When Frost clicked the button, only one name appeared and caused him to snort. “Art D. Healer.”

“Click on the name.”

Frost obeyed and another screen opened up. “It’s private.”

“And you can’t see who it belongs to?”

“I can try.” Frost grabbed a second laptop from the desk next to him. Stickers covered the back of it. He typed a bunch of ones and zeroes Charlie couldn’t follow. A few minutes later Frost pulled his hands back from the keyboard. “The only name that comes up is Art D. Healer. I’ve got some friends who—”

“No.” Charlie roughed his chin. “We have to do this legally. We’ll call Agent Padello. He might be able to help.”

“The FBI will have to help, because I doubt Art D. Healer is a real person. I mean, come on. How lame is that?” Frost leaned back in his chair. “No imagination.”

“May I?”

Frost slid his chair back and grabbed a sandwich out of the bag.

While Frost munched on his cold lunch, Charlie clicked through the photos again.

“Heard the autopsy report was gruesome,” Frost said through a mouthful of food.

“I guess that depends on what one considers gruesome.”

Frost’s chewing stopped.

“It wasn’t pleasant.” And it wasn’t, but Charlie’s opinion of gruesome had been formed on the battlefield.

“You probably saw a lot of death in the war.”

“More than I’d like.” Charlie paused on a picture. It was different from the rest. Not a close-up of a painting like the others. This one was taken outside, looking into the storefront of a gallery. He looked closer. “Ever hear of Ainsley’s Antiques?”

“No.”

“Google it. Find out where it’s located.”

“Are you looking for antiques?” Frost licked his fingers and was about to wipe his mouth across the back of his sleeve when he looked up and saw Charlie watching him.

“No, but we might be closer to finding out why Sydney has a Facebook page of art.”

Frost grabbed a napkin before leaning in. “What? How?”

“Look at the reflection in the window.” Charlie focused on the lettering above Sydney’s head. “The gallery in this picture is nearby Ainsley’s Antiques and maybe someone at that gallery knows about Sydney’s secret love of art.”

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you caught that.” Frost pushed up his glasses. After a quick computer search, a smile appeared on his face. “Bohemian Signature Gallery is located by Ainsley’s. It’s in Savannah.”

“What’s in Savannah?” Sheriff Huggins stepped into the room, his large frame dominating what remained of the cramped space.

“Deputy Frost found a private Facebook account linked to Sydney Donovan.” Charlie lifted his eyebrows so Frost could continue. “He’s got some serious computer skills.”

“That he does.” Sheriff Huggins patted the young deputy on the back. “Show me what you got.”