A return text from Joyce arrived.

I’ll think on it, hon! If anything occurs to me, or if I can find any Bonnie memorabilia in one of my closets, you’ll be the first to know.

I appreciate your help.

Bonnie had been living in Atlanta by the time Ian had been born. Atlanta was a city of half a million people. Trying to find Bonnie in an Atlanta newspaper brought to mind the proverbial needle in the haystack. She’d likely have better results searching for Bonnie in her hometown paper.

On her phone, Leah pulled up information about the town that had been listed as Bonnie’s birthplace on Ian’s death record. Oxford, Alabama. Its population had enjoyed a forty-six percent increase in the past twenty years and now boasted twenty-one thousand residents. It made sense that Bonnie might have migrated to Atlanta from Oxford, because even though the Alabama/Georgia line separated the two cities, they were located only eighty-eight miles apart.

She typed Newspaper for Oxford, AL into her Google app, then dialed the number provided.

“Calhoun County Post,” a young, sweet-voiced woman answered.

Leah explained that she was looking for newspaper mentions of a woman who’d been born in Oxford named Bonnie Byrne or Bonnie O’Reilly.

“I’d be glad to help,” the woman said. “But, just so you know, this isn’t something I can pull up quickly. I’ll have to work on it in my downtime. It might take me a bit.”

“No problem at all.” A thought occurred. “Would it be too much trouble to also keep an eye out for mentions of Ian O’Reilly?”

“That’s absolutely fine. I’ll add him to the list.”

Almost as soon as Leah ended the call, her phone dinged. She checked her texts, anticipating another follow-up from Joyce. It wasn’t from Joyce. It was from Claire.

My dad’s really, really angry. Can you come get my sisters and brother and me?

Panic flashed in Leah’s chest. She placed a call to Claire. No answer. Leah texted instead.

Claire, call the police. If you can get out of the house, do. If you can’t, try to lock yourself into a room.

No answer. No scrolling dots to indicate Claire had seen the message.

Tossing what was left of her pie in the trash, she rushed to her car. Once she’d shut herself inside, she dialed Misty River’s police headquarters.

A female voice answered.

Leah identified herself and rapidly relayed the text she’d received from Claire.

“Leah, this is Marilyn.” They knew each other slightly from church. “I’m so sorry to hear about your student.”

“I’m concerned.”

“I understand. Listen, the officers we have on duty are currently at the scene of a collision on Summit Road. I’ll ask if one of them can drive over to Claire’s residence as soon as possible.”