“Not sure. Can I look at 1983, too?”
“Of course, help yourself. Leave all those boxes on the table when you’re done—I’ll clean up later.”
Once the 1983 boxes are on the table in front of her, Diana reads quickly, eager for more news, ideally a report of some other crime. The newspapers from January through May of that year are clear of any details that could explain Tom’s letter. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing criminal beyond speeding tickets handed out by the Hamilton police and shoplifting reports from the local supermarket. It was a stretch anyway; Tom was away at college at that time, far from Hamilton, Vermont.
There’s no more news about Carson Roy either. She does find an article about the O’Connors in June of that year, when the school committee announced a scholarship in William’s memory for a deserving Hamilton High graduate. She reads through July, in case any news from June, when Tom was still eighteen, was reported later, but there’s nothing of note.
As Diana snaps a photo of William O’Connor’s obituary, Kara shuffles into the room, tugging a cardigan over her wool sweater. Dianahastily drops her phone into her pocket. She hasn’t asked if taking photos is acceptable and doesn’t want to strain Kara’s good-natured assistance.
“It’s cold in here all the time,” Kara says. “I ask to increase the temperature, and the publisher says there’s no money in the budget.” She chuckles in a way that sounds like her opinion of the publisher is not high. “What do you have there?” She leans over the table. “Oh, William O’Connor. What a loss.”
“You knew him?”
“We both taught at the high school. Home economics was my subject. William was the history teacher all the kids loved. I’m friendly with Grace through the Women’s Club here in town.”
“She still lives in Hamilton?” Kara stands so close Diana can smell her cloying perfume and another scent, one that clouds her nostrils.Mothballs,Diana thinks, taking a discreet sniff.
“Yes, though she no longer runs her land as a farm. No more horses either. Not since William died.” Kara puts on her glasses to read the article, the beaded string swinging. “He was such a good man. That Carson Roy caused heartache for so many people.”
For a moment, too quick to hold on to, Diana thinks Kara is talking about Tom, the past morphing right in front of her into an alternate reality. Woozy, she grips the edge of the table and squeezes so hard the blood leaves her fingers, while Kara chatters away next to her.
“Carson was an only child, and his dad left town before he was born,” Kara says. “His mother died a few years after him. It was icy out, and she drove into a tree. The police ruled it accidental, but I’m not sure everyone believed that.”
William O’Connor, Carson Roy, his mother, Tom: all dead.
Diana remembers Jonathan’s phone call during Duncan’s basketball game, when he told her he hadn’t been able to find evidence that Tom had been arrested.He never took responsibility for what he did,Jonathan said.Therefore, there wouldn’t be any arrest records.
Which means there probably wouldn’t be any news stories either.
Has this visit to theStarbeen a waste of time?
Kara dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief from her cardigan pocket. “It was a difficult time for the whole town. William was a special person.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Diana says automatically.
Kara waves at Diana, as if erasing the apology from the air. She smooths her hands over her generous belly and changes the subject. “Tell me, did you like the graduation coverage? The senior profiles are a very popular feature with our subscribers.” When Diana looks at her blankly, Kara gestures to the box of May and June 1982Stareditions. “The story about your husband’s high school graduation?”
Diana forgot about that box. She opens it now and flips through the issues until she comes to the June 17 paper, which features an in-depth profile of the senior class and their graduation ceremony. On the front page is a full-color shot of the graduates standing on the high school football field. She scans for Tom and finds him on the edge of the crowd. Dressed in jeans with his sandy hair cut in a shaggy mop, he’s laughing, his head angled to the side. His right hand clasps the upper arm of a dark-haired teenager. Chris.
“There’s my niece. She lives down in Norwich. Has twin boys.” Kara points to a blurry girl in the front row. “There’s Carson Roy.” Kara’s finger, the nail painted a pale pink, rests on a boy in the back row. He is turned away from the camera, his arms spread out as if he’s planning to jump from the frame.
“They were in the same high school class?” Diana says, not realizing she’s spoken the words out loud.
“Your Tom and Carson Roy? Why, yes, they were.”
Diana opens the paper to the profiles of the ninety-one graduating seniors. She finds Tom on page three. His senior portrait, which she’s never seen before, is printed in the top, left corner. Underneath, reminding Diana too much of Duncan’s interview of Tom from the time capsule, is his profile:
Name: Thomas (Tom, Tommy, TM) Morgan
Favorite Subject: English
Favorite Memory: Lunch with Chris & skipping class with Carson (sorry, Mom!)
Goals: College and travel
Parting Thoughts: Thanks to Mom, Uncle Brian, Aunt Teresa, Mr. & Mrs. O’Connor! I couldn’t have done this without you!
Tom knew the O’Connors, enough to thank them in his senior profile, and he knew Carson—or, at least,aCarson.
