Page 128 of Buried Too Deep

She opened the yearbook and thumbed through the pages until she came to the Ws. “Here she is. Priscilla Winslow. She was so pretty.” She held up the book so that Phin could see.

“She looks like you,” Phin said with a smile.

Cora smiled back, muted but real. He wanted her smile to be unfettered, without worry. They’d make it happen.

“Winslow sounds very Mayflower,” Burke commented. “This is pretty.” He’d found a box filled with blown glass.

Phin wondered how much it was worth. Maybe Cora could sell some of it to pay for new wiring. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that she’d need to do a full electrical overhaul soon, and Phin wasn’t a licensed electrician. He could do the job, but he’d need oversight by a licensed contractor.

“My grandmother used to talk about her grandparents and how they said our ancestors came over on the Mayflower.” She huffed. “They really didn’t, but it made for a good story. Huh. Maybe that’s why my father picked that poem for my mother—‘The Courtship of Miles Standish.’ Miles Standish, John Alden, and Priscilla Mullens all came over on the Mayflower.”

Phin opened a different yearbook and started paging toward the Es for Jack Elliot. But the voice in his head told him to keep going.

To the Ns. For Napier. What if…?

His heart sank when he found Patrick Napier’s photo. He’d been a handsome man then, his smile bold. He’d majored in both computer science and art history.

Computer science.

That didn’t mean he’d been good at searching for and procuring new passports and other identification papers.

It didn’t mean he hadn’t been good at it, either.

Patrick had also been part of a fraternity. So what about Jack?

Hands unsteady, Phin worked his way back to the Es.

Jack Elliot was in the same undergraduate class as Patrick Napier. He’d also double majored—in accounting and computer science. He and Patrick may have shared classes.

But they’d definitely shared a home.

Jack had pledged to the same fraternity.

Phin had found it. The connection between the two men.

Shit. How do I tell Cora?

This is going to suck.

Phin heard a little whine. SodaPop had wedged herself against his side.

Because he was breathing too hard and too fast.

A soft hand covered his. “Phin?” Cora asked, her voice thin. Concerned and scared, all at once. “What’s wrong?”

He shook himself, clearing his mind. “Patrick Napier graduated from LSU with his bachelor’s degree the same year your father did.”

Cora’s mouth fell open, her face gone slack with shock. “What?” Then she shook her head in denial. “Lots of people went there, Phin. It doesn’t mean anything. It was a big school. They might never have met.”

Phin exhaled. “They were both computer science majors. And they were fraternity brothers.”

Cora’s face crumpled. “No. No.”

Phin handed her the yearbook open to Jack’s page, his finger marking Patrick’s.

Cora looked at both pages, then closed her eyes. “Patrick wasn’t here when the letters started. He didn’t live here then.”

Phin hated to burst her bubble of hope. “Let’s find a way to ask Tandy if he made visits to New Orleans in those days. Do you have anything he’s handwritten?”

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