glanced around, making sure I had the right universe.

And spotted Hi, jacket inside out, sneaking back up the steps.

Frick.

“Hold it!”

Hi straightened, slowly turned, and trudged down to my bench.

“Oh, hey.” Feigned nonchalance. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Come on, Hiram.” My hands found my hips. “Why the embarrassed face? What is it you think you just saw?”

“Not you and Chance canoodling like newlyweds, if that’s what you mean.” He smiled, then tsked. “Shame, shame! When good girls go bad!”

“It wasn’t like that.” My face burned to the tips of my ears. “Or maybe it was. I don’t know.” I covered my eyes and peeked through my fingers. “He started it!”

“None of my business,” Hi said. “And don’t worry. It’s in the vault. Forgotten.”

“Thank you. FYI, I’m not out to steal anyone else’s boyfriend. He hit on me.” Pause. “I think.”

“Sure.” Hi winked. “Whatever you say, TB.”!!!Grrr.

“What did loverboy have on the print?”

I looked at my notepad, thankful to change subjects. “It was left by a guy named James Newman, a local meathead with ties to organized crime.”

“Organized crime?” Hi’s eyebrows plunged into a V. “That sounds unpleasant. Where does he hang?”

“We’ve got to find him.”

“Right. The cops can’t but we will.”

“We have to. The guy was scoping out our activities at the library. That makes him our only lead in the Heaton case.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Hi dropped down beside me. “We may be going about this the wrong way. This Newman guy probably works for someone, right? That’s who we have to find.”

“Okay. How?”

“Motive,” he said. “We need to find out why Heaton was killed.”

That tracked right. And seemed safer than chasing a dangerous felon across greater Charleston.

“Then we should investigate Katherine’s disappearance,” I said. “Find something the cops missed back in ’69.”

“We already checked the newspapers,” Hi said. “Where else could we look?”

I had a sudden thought.

“What about Katherine’s family?”

“Her father was an orphan. And her mother died in childbirth.”

“Katherine was only sixteen when Frankie Heaton was killed in Vietnam. She must’ve been living with someone while he was overseas.”

“Maybe her mother had family?” Hi sounded dubious.

“Whoever it was, if that person’s still alive, they might remember details of the day Katherine vanished.”

Hi scratched his chin. “Back to the public library?”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“What is the DOE Network?” Hi asked.

“An organization that investigates old missing person cases.” We were once again in Bolton’s computer lab. “Cold ones. It’s a long shot, but they might have a file on Katherine Heaton.”

After logging on, I navigated to the website and entered Katherine’s name. A link popped up the screen.

“Yes! She’s on here.”

I double-clicked to open the file. A case synopsis appeared. Barely breathing, I read the report.

“Someone named Sylvia Briggerman submitted the original missing person report.”

“On it.”

Hi walked to the next terminal and ran a search. “There’s one Briggerman listed in the Charleston area. Centerville address, on James Island. Shall I give her a ring?”

I nodded.

Hi dialed, listened, disconnected.

“It’s a retirement home. I can’t get through to her room without an access code.”

I looked at the clock: 3:45 p.m.

“The city bus would get us to Centerville in less than thirty minutes.”

“I’m supposed to help Shelton with Cooper,” Hi said. “The little guy’s all alone at the new bunker we found.”

“Shelton will be fine. This is more important,” I said. “Briggerman might be the last person to see Katherine Heaton alive.”