A third picture of Eleanor, partially obscured by a flyer, caught Jessica’s eye. She reached into her bag and pulled out the picklock set. Looked around, saw the college guys were busy with their game of pool, not taking any notice of her. The amount of booze she’d consumed made springing the lock a trickier task than it should have been, but eventually it yielded.

Jessica cracked open the frame just wide enough to carefully slide her fingernail under the thumbtack, pulling it out along with the photo. She held the glossy print under the restroom sign’s neon light for a closer look.

Eleanor Lavelle’s arms were wrapped protectively around the neck of a slightly awkward-looking guy in his early twenties. He had piercing blue eyes and long dark curly hair that fell around his face. He wore an Alice in Chains T-shirt and baggy, ripped jeans. Even in the ’90s, the bar staff’s uniform at Ace’s appeared to have been a band tee and jeans, with only the fit of the pants changing in the ensuing years. Jessica flipped the photo over and saw some words written in neat capital letters on the back: Eleanor and Rob, Aug ’92.

She shoved the photo into the back pocket of her cutoffs and pushed open the door to the ladies’ restroom. Jessica stumbled against the washbasin and retched a couple of times, but nothing came up. She turned the cold tap on full and splashed water onto her face and wiped her hands on her shorts. Then she pulled the photo from her pocket and looked at it again under the glare of the fluorescent lights.

The writing on the back told Jessica the couple captured by the camera’s lens were Eleanor Lavelle and Rob Young.

The photo itself told her they were Eleanor Lavelle and Tony Shaw.

18 ELEANOR

18

ELEANOR

OCTOBER 2, 1992

Eleanor filled Darla’s glass to just below the rim. The deep-burgundy liquid was almost black in the dimness of the candlelit room.

“Why are we drinking fancy red wine anyway?” Darla giggled and took another sip of the expensive merlot. “It’s definitely an improvement on our usual Friday-night beers.”

Eleanor smiled mysteriously. “Because we’re celebrating.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow over her glass. “Really? What are we celebrating?”

They had drunk a full bottle between them already, and Darla’s cheeks were flushed the same color as the wine.

Eleanor took a last hit of weed, licked her thumb and forefinger, and doused what was left of the joint. She dropped it in an ashtray and wafted her hand in front of her to clear the air.

“Let me just get rid of the evidence first, and then we’ll talk.” She winked at Darla, picked up the ashtray, and headed for the hallway. “Stick some music on. But not too loud.”