She kept scrolling, but after the article about their wedding, photos of Trudy as a Friendly’s Girl disappeared. Jay himself didn’t seem to be in any more articles either. It wasn’t until she was about to stand and take the slides out of the machine that she spotted his name one last time. She sat back down and read the article.

June 11, 1982—Jay Malone, owner of Friendly’s Ice Cream, was last seen around midnight on Friday, May 16, leaving the Showboat on Little River. Witnesses report he was not alone when he left, and the motor of his single-engine fishing boat could be heard heading north on the river. No one has heard from him, and his boat hasn’t been spotted anywhere on or near the river. Malone’s wife, Trudy, too grieved to speak, has retreated to the home of her sister, Violet Figg. No evidence of foul play has been found.

Liza scanned back to the photo she’d seen of Trudy standing next to Jay. Jay’s arm around her shoulders was affectionate, but now Liza noticed the indentation his fingertips made on the skin of her upper arm.

She sat back in her chair and stretched her neck. Too grieved to speak. What a strange phrase to use. Had she actually been unable to form words? Could grief do that, or was it something else?

At first glance Trudy bore the same wide CoverGirl smile that the other Friendly’s Girls had sported, but when Liza peered closer, she picked up on something else. Call it a reporter’s hunch, a premonition, or what have you, but what Liza saw in that woman’s eyes was not joy or love or even happiness, despite her marriage to the man, despite the dazzling smile. Liza saw fear. Trudy was a woman on high alert, a woman wary of upsetting the man next to her.

Liza stood and pushed away from the table. She quickly pulled the slides from the machine and set everything back in its place. When she walked back to the front lobby, Emmajean was at the desk.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

“I think so. Thanks for your help.” Liza was about to open the double doors to the parking lot when she paused. “Have you lived here long?”

“In Sugar Bend? My whole life. I was born on the river.”

“Do you know what happened to Jay Malone? Was he ever found?”

Emmajean stilled. Finally she shook her head. “No one ever saw him again. I remember for a while there was a question of whether or not they were going to drag the bottom of the river to see if he’d drowned, but they never did. I’m not sure why. Eventually people just stopped talking about it.”

“What happened to his ice cream stores?”

Emmajean shrugged. “They closed and that was that. Once Baskin-Robbins came in, no one cared anymore.”

Liza sat in her hot car with the door open to release the wavy heat and let her thoughts settle. Could this be the story she’d been waiting for? A story bigger than feuding farmers and nosy neighbors? Maybe this was it.