Page 150 of Trust No One

I turned pages—Gabe, Maria, Ken, and Amy. Amy wasn’t in the portrait section, but I found a candid of her. Standing behind Raine and Maria, her gaze locked on the duo. She’d dyed her hair a softer blond. Odd that Amy had been at the game. Wasn’t it her job to care for Mrs. Hale while Raine took a night off?

On the yearbook’s title page was the photography curator and president of the yearbook committee. A quick search of her, and I pulled up her married name: Jennifer Thompson Sawyer. Finding her phone number was easy.

I checked my watch. Seven a.m. Not too early to call. I dialed.

“Hello?” a woman asked.

“This is Agent Judson Blackwood with the Virginia State Police. I’m trying to reach Jennifer Thompson.”

“This is she. Is everything all right?”

The hitch of panic urged him to qualify quickly. “No issues. I’m looking into an old case. You oversaw photos for the Western High School yearbook.”

“Judson Blackwood the football player?”

“That’s me.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this. Blast from the past.”

“Can you talk now?”

“Sure. Just slowing my racing heart. I have a teenager who just drove off to school. He’s a new driver. I thought for a moment this was about him.”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry to upset you.” As her fast-paced words fired, memories of a thin, pale girl with wire-rimmed glasses rose to the front. She was always hiding her face behind a camera.

“No worries. What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for pictures from our senior year of high school.”

“Why?”

“It’s related to a case.”

“That feels a little random.”

“Do you have pictures from those days? Ones that might not have made it into the yearbook.”

She chuckled. “I’m a pack rat. I have them all. Anyone in particular?”

“Amy Stocker is top of the list.”

“Ah, Ghost Girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“No one saw her much. We called her Ghost Girl. I heard she went back and got her GED.” Water turned on and off as if Jennifer was at a kitchen sink. “I can bring the pictures that didn’t make it in the yearbook to you.”

“I’m happy to come get them.”

“Okay. I’ll dig them out and have them for you in an hour.”

“You must be pretty organized.”

“I am. I leave for work at nine.”

“I can be there by eight.”

“Perfect.” She rattled off the address.