Cassie’s heart kicked to a higher pace, and whatever remnants from her early crying jag remained scattered on a wave of adrenaline. There were two stacks bound by clips—one with color pictures and a background that was unmistakably from the bar area at André’s, and another in grainy black and white in an office-type environment. She flipped through the library pictures first. A woman with two children in tow. A balding heavyset man. A person wearing sweats and a ball cap that she was pretty sure was a woman, but couldn’t be positive. A teenage boy toting a backpack that looked like it weighed a ton.

She studied the next three behind it, then went back to the top of the stack. “There aren’t very many from the library.”

“The library opened at 10 a.m. that morning,” Roman said. “The email was sent at 10:30 a.m. Those were the only people there during that time period.”

Cassie hesitated at the picture of the woman in the ball cap. “I can’t make a face out on this one at all.”

“They only have one camera in the computer room,” Kir said. “None of the other angles from other rooms gave us any more detail.”

With a sigh, Cassie shifted to the pictures from André’s. “Well, you had a lot more to choose from here.”

Frieda leaned in for a peek and chuckled. “That’s because people can’t do without their phones anymore. I remember refusing to go someplace with my mom and dad because I was waiting for a boy to call and didn’t want to miss it.”

“No way,” Evette said.

Cassie flipped to the last photo—a blurred profile image of the woman she’d seen at the bar that night tucking her phone into her purse.

“Way,” Frieda said. “When call waiting became a thing and you could actually buy an answering machine, it was as revolutionary as a cordless phone.”

The whole table, save Cassie, laughed.

Kir must have noted her attention rooted on the photo in front of her, because his laughter died off and he leaned closer. “You know this person?”

“No, but I remember seeing her at the restaurant when Evette and I were coming out of the bathroom.”

Evette stood and came around to look over Cassie’s shoulder. “I don’t know her.”

“I don’t think I do either, but she seemed familiar to me that night.” She went back to the top of the stack. “Any chance I could study the live videos? Maybe if I see them in motion it’ll trigger something?”

Roman looked to Kir, a silent question on his face.

Kir nodded. “Of course. I’ll upload them and provide you with a link so you can study them as you have time.”

She tucked the pictures back inside the folder. The reporter in her wanted to ask questions. To dig and claw her way into every action Kir, Sergei and Roman had taken.

But another, more quiet and gentle instinct urged her to relax. To let go and trust. An odd and foreign sensation to be sure, but also a huge relief. “So, does that mean we’re at a dead end?”