Page 56 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“What?”

“That whoever is doing this didn’t find what they were looking for the first time, so they moved on to your house and tried there.”

“Well, duh. What gets me is that they have to be spying on us. Otherwise, how would they know I wasn’t at home? Besides that, you haven’t spent that much time at my house. Why do they think you’d keep anything valuable there?”

“Good point. It occurs to me that we could search online for any death that happened in San Mateo County on November 27th, 1999, that appears out of the ordinary.”

Daniel nodded. “The date of death listed on the headstone and death certificate.”

“Exactly. And then verified three days later by none other than a funeral director, not a medical examiner. Narrows it down, right? That seems to be when all this kicked into high gear—Saturday, November 27th, 1999.”

“Then it has nothing to do with the shipwreck?”

“I didn’t say that. But we could also do a search using that social security number on the death certificate to find out if it matches back to a child, any child born in 1995.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you want to run a parallel investigation alongside Brent’s.”

“I don’t see it that way. What does it matter about a few online searches? I’m just curious about what happened on November 27th, 1999, in or around Redwood City. So will you help me?”

“Sure. As soon as I clean up this mess off the floor.”

She moved over to her laptop and waited for it to boot up. “Since Brent took the death certificate with him, I don’t have the exact social security number. But I think I can remember enough numbers. I can also start digging for deaths on or around that time period.”

Daniel joined her loaded down with an armful of papers, organizing them in an orderly fashion on the table before watching her key in the date. “Anything yet?”

Over the rim of her monitor, she glared at him. “I’ve barely gotten started. Give me a chance before you pass judgment.”

He held up his hands. “I’m just tired. And cranky. And you sound like you’re headed that way.”

Thirty minutes ticked off the clock before Rowan got a hit. “Wait a sec. I think I might’ve found something. What was that time of death again?”

“Uh, I believe it read nine-thirty-two. PM.”

“Shouldn’t a four-year-old have been in bed by then?”

Feeling groggy from lack of sleep, Daniel was beginning to nod off when he grunted in agreement. “Do you have anything or not?”

“I’m suddenly on a roll. The first one comes from the San Mateo County Times. It’s an obituary about a five-year-old girl who died Friday, November 26th, 1999, from leukemia.”

“That’s not exactly a perfect fit, though, is it? The girl’s too old and the date’s wrong. Besides, why would anyone need to cover up a death from cancer?”

Rowan frowned. “But it’s close enough to check out.”

“Still—”

“Okay, how about this one? Authorities found a teenage girl who drowned near the riptide off Pillar Point Harbor at Half Moon Bay on that Saturday afternoon during Thanksgiving weekend.”

“That’s not remotely relevant.”

“You’re a hard man to please. Okay. How about this one? Here’s another newspaper article about a woman drowning in a swimming pool at a fancy party held in Redwood City—San Fran’s entertainment hub on the peninsula— during Thanksgiving weekend. The story mentions how drugs and alcohol flowed for three straight days. The date this woman died was Saturday, November 27th. Bingo. Her name was Tamsin Southwick, carrying a British passport, visiting from Worcester, England. According to this, Tamsin was intoxicated when she jumped into the pool attempting to save a child from drowning.”

Daniel’s head whipped up. “Could you have been that child?”

“See? Weird, huh? Got your attention now. Fancy party with drugs. That sounds like Gwynn’s wheelhouse, her favorite place to be on earth. I’m emailing this article to Brent and Eastlyn for further exploration. Maybe they can track down anyone who was there that night.”

“You send that to Brent, and he’ll know you’ve been sleuthing behind his back. Not to mention, it’s a long shot at best. Who would come forward about a party held more than twenty years ago where a woman drowned?”

“Too late. I already sent it off to Brent. As for the long shot angle, I’d say it describes what we’re looking for right now, something totally out of the blue. It won’t hurt to check it out. I could even make a few phone calls. But wouldn’t it be better if the calls came from law enforcement?”

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