As Val googled, searching for any news at the time, Gabrielle’s name, the Morgan name, was noticeably missing. There was simply nothing about this tragedy out there. The story of Gabrielle’s life, apart from maybe a few rare moments, was not on the internet.

Val’s fingers clicked through the posts quickly, scrolling from page to page. At the end of each one she swore this would be the last. Wasting her time, that’s what she was doing. One news source, ten pages deep in Val’s query caused her fingers to pause, the cursor hovering over the text, at the article headline: Gabrielle Morgan, Daughter of John Morgan, of Morgan Foods, Was Not Alone at the Family Home When her Brother and Sister Drowned. Val frowned. Seemed like a muddled, crappy, non-reliable news post from a rag of a publication that had gone out of business not long after this story came out. Then Val saw two names. Bethany Arias and Melinda Holbright—confirmed to be at the house the day of the drownings. Val’s heart pounded. She read further.

The maid from the house next door was in front of the kitchen window doing the dishes and saw the girls running from the Morgans’ back door, which was the servant’s entrance. Not long after, she heard ambulance sirens. The maid, Ingrid Gruber, said there was only about a ten-minute lag in time between the girls running out and the sirens blaring. She knew because she had something cooking in the oven and was using the timer.

Val clicked through the photos in the article and shot back from the screen on the third one. The pictures taken back then, of the maid, of Ingrid… holy crap, she was the spitting image of Jennifer Ballard now.

Val now typed Ingrid Gruber and Jennifer Gruber. Nothing came up. Val’s next search, Ingrid Gruber and Gabrielle Morgan. Several articles popped up, all describing Ingrid as an unreliable witness with an unreliable story. She had a documented drug and alcohol problem and made multiple attempts to blackmail the Morgans before being committed to a rehab facility, where she later died. Seems she fell and cut her leg while in the facility. The wound became gangrenous and she died from sepsis.

“Are you almost done?” Gwen said as she entered their shared office. “Want to grab some lunch?”

“Almost,” Val said, her eyes glued to the story about Ingrid Gruber.

“I can go for Thai. Sound good?” Gwen leaned against the wall.

“Sure… Gwen, you have to see all of this.” Val motioned for her colleague to look at the screen.

Gwen peered over Val’s shoulder. As she did, Val’s phone buzzed and she looked to see who was calling. She nearly dropped the device.

“Who is it?” Gwen asked. She must have seen Val’s reaction.