Page 66 of Asher's Assignment

Esther gave a weary sigh. She was getting tired of recanting this story. But she did it, anyway, starting with what she first told Edie and going all the way through what she heard from the Tinsdales at the pizzeria tonight.

“I was just about to look through the results of the image search I did on a picture I found of the Tylers from a news article,” she finished.

“Send that to me. I’ll get better results than those pathetic excuses for AI searching.” She gave Esther her email address.

Esther chuckled. “I think I like you,” she said as she opened her email.

Jo laughed. “While I don’t aim to please anyone but myself, I’m glad.”

That was a good philosophy to have. It was impossible to please everyone. The only person whose opinion should matter was one’s own. Esther felt that if she couldn’t live with herself, it was hard to expect others to do the same.

Attaching the full image to an email, Esther clicked send. “There, sent.”

“Cheers, thanks. All right, let’s see what we’ve got.” A short pause came over the line. “Nice looking family. Poor kid. How’s she doing? Health-wise, I mean. I know she’s in a spot of bother right now.”

“She’s been doing well. Her doctors are happy with her progress.”

“That’s good to hear. My sister had a kidney transplant when she was seventeen. Lupus. It’s rough. Okay… let’s see.”

Esther scrolled through the images on her computer while she waited for Jo. It was a lot of pictures of blonde women. But none of them matched.

“Hmm…”

The note of curiosity in Jo’s voice piqued Esther’s attention. “What?”

“I’m sending you a picture. Look at it and tell me if you think it looks like Connie Tyler.”

“Okay.” Esther clicked into her inbox. A moment later, a message arrived. She opened it and clicked on the attachment.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes.” Esther tipped her head, staring at the young woman on the screen. And she was young. Late teens. But she looked like Connie. “It looks a lot like her, yes. Who is she, and where did you find that?”

“It’s from a social media post on a school web page. She was in a group. There aren’t any names. It just says ‘French Club.’”

“What school?”

“Pierpoint High School in Pennsylvania.”

Esther typed it into her browser and found the web page. “I wonder…” She opened a new tab and let her voice trail off.

“What?”

“So, I have a subscription to a website that contains an online archive of yearbooks. I’m on the reunion committee for my class. Anyway, I’m wondering if her yearbook is on there.” She logged into the website.

Jo let out a soft snort. “Love, you missed your calling. That’s good thinking.”

“Thanks.” Esther typed the name of the high school into the search bar. “Is there a year on that post?”

“Yes.” Jo read it off.

“Perfect, thank you.” Esther added it. Her heart thudded as the screen went blank while the search started. When it refreshed, a list for the school appeared. She let out a soft squeal. “We’re in business. Okay. Going back fifteen to twenty years…” She scrolled, then clicked on a year. “We’re lucky. This isn’t a large school.” It would still take her a little time to look through all the grades, though.

“What’s the name of this website and what’s your login information? I can use my software to find a match.”

“Oh. That would be faster, yeah. Okay.” She gave Jo the information. Through the phone, she heard a flurry of typing.

“We just need to give it a minute to work. The news article picture is a good one, so hopefully—wait.”

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