Page 42 of Skin Game
“Did you try the library archives? I think they’re available online. Or the newspaper? I think the state archives also sometimes stores old phone books if that’s what you’re focusing on.”
“Yeah, but what I want is before 1982, and I’m really trying to avoid adding a trip to Olympia in. It might be worth a try though. And I do have a fancy new library card in my possession. Well, a temporary one.”
Picking up his cup, one with a Smokey the Bear graphic on it and the phrasePlease Help Smokey, Casey crossed the room to sit down next to Gabe, unintentionally jostling the computer as he did so.
“Oops, sorry.”
“No worries,” Gabe murmured, focused on the screen. Casey took a sip of his coffee and skimmed the web page in front of Gabe.
“Have you searched like, uh, news headlines in Westfort from the late 1970s?” Casey asked him. “Or around the time of the yearbook? I mean, most likely Heidi-slash-Holly wouldn’t have been in the news back then, at least I hope not, but what if something big happened, and that set off a chain of events? Maybe somehow the event was connected to her or to the name Pritchard. Could that have eventually led to her leaving town and changing her name?”
“Sure, why not? I was looking for Pritchards in a haystack. At this point, I’d use a damn Magic 8 Ball.”
“Good luck. I’m going to put some more clothes on.”
“Such a shame,” Gabe said.
Casey chuckled. “You may appreciate the lack of clothing, but Greta will not.”
“Fine,” Gabe huffed. “Go ahead and get dressed if you insist.”
EIGHTEEN
GABE – THURSDAY MORNING
“I’m heading out,” Casey announced as he walked out of the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe saw him grab his empty cup and carry it into the kitchen. The water turned on, and Gabe knew he was rinsing the cup out and setting it in the dish rack. Casey was much tidier than Gabe, who just stacked dishes in the sink during the day and washed them all at night. Sometimes Gabe wondered if Casey was bothered by his messier habits, if this was going to be a sticking point if—when—they moved in together.
He looked up from the laptop and frowned. Casey had put a shirt on, dammit. His sexy, bare chest was always a pleasure.
“Alright,” Gabe said, instead of complaining about the need for clothing when one had a real job. “I’m going to keep at this for a while longer, then I’ll give Elton a call and see if he learned anything interesting yesterday. So far, the big news I’m finding is Ted Bundy’s second arrest, but that was in Florida, and I doubt Heidi had anything to do with it anyway. She was more likely to have been a victim.”
Coming back around the kitchen counter, Casey stopped in front of him, gently looming. Gabe dragged his gaze up Casey’sbody and decided for the hundredth time that his well-filled-out ranger uniform was as good as a sexy, naked chest. A happy sigh escaped him. There was almost nothing better than his man in uniform.
“If Heidi or her”—Casey seemed to be picking his words carefully—“relations were generally on the wrong side of the law, maybe that was an inciting factor? At the very least, I think we can assume she ran away from home. Since she may have been a minor, those records might not be readily available. I don’t even know where you’d look. Maybe call the Westfort police?”
“Yeah, nope.” Gabe set his laptop to the side and rose to his feet. “Anyway, have a great day at work, honey. Make good choices.” The last bit he chanted, his voice pitched higher than normal.
Casey snorted, and Gabe leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips.
“I feel like I’m the one who should be reminding you to make the good choices.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe said absently as he sat back down and returned his attention to the search.
Once Casey and Bowie had departed, the house was quiet, and Gabe wasn’t sure he liked it that way. After a lifetime of moving around with Heidi and then living by himself for the most part, he was realizing how much he enjoyed companionship, how much he just plain liked Casey Lundin. What he felt was more thanlike,but he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud.
Three coffees and one trip to the bathroom later, Gabe abruptly stopped typing and stared at the screen. “What do we have here?”
At Casey’s suggestion, he’d logged in to the public library site. After a steep learning curve, he had eventually figured out how to search the electronic archives. He also had developed an even healthier respect for librarians and archivists.
Keith, who’d curled up next to him to use Gabe as herpersonal heater after her breakfast, did not have an answer for him. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all.
Westfort, WA., August 2 (AP) –No Arrests In Local Gallery Art Heist.
The newspaper article wasn’t even on the top of the page. He’d almost missed it because Gabe’s eyes had started to water, and, frankly, his search for something interesting during the late 1970s had begun to feel futile. But then, there it was, the kind of news he’d been looking for, just below the fold on the front page.
The 201 Gallery, at 201 Water Street in downtown Westfort, was broken into sometime over the busy summer weekend, and several valuable paintings stolen.
“We don’t know how the thieves got in,” gallery employee Carla Pritchard attested. “We locked up after close on Sunday evening, and they were just gone when we came back Tuesday.”