Trace Their Shadows Read Online Free

columnist gave for the witness. A half hour on the phone to nearby Mount Dora located his mother. “Seymour’s home from college for the summer,” the woman said. Her voice rose and sharpened. “Why would a reporter want an interview?”
    More manipulation needed, Brandy thought. The boy’s mother mustn’t be apprehensive. “We’re considering a story about summer jobs for college students,” she said, and told herself Mr. Tyler might okay one.
    The woman’s voice warmed. “That would be great. Seymour works nights at the Burger King on Route 441. He’d love to find something, well, more genteel.” Brandy left her name.
    Mid–morning at the Chamber of Commerce meeting she heard architect Curt Greene argue for a lands acquisition and protection program. Most Lake County developers like Blackthorne would fight a voter referendum. John Able had his job cut out for him. The only citizen to speak up for preservation was a lakeside restaurant owner. His Irish pub in Tavares benefited from the view.
    A nervous city council candidate backed off the environmental issue, but Brandy raised her own morale with chocolate chip cookies at the library bake–off contest, and returned to the office to type her stories. A telecom system would transmit them to Mr. Tyler’s screen for his often caustic editing.
    At four she nosed her ‘84 Chevrolet hatchback——the major purchase of her young life——west on her missing woman mission, through heavy traffic along the narrow arm of land that separates three large lakes. Here Florida’s native live oaks and cypress had been replaced by eight miles of billboards, gas stations, strip shopping centers, and the Buick and General Motors dealership where Mack Lynch worked for his father.
    When Brandy spotted Mack’s big Sierra pickup in the rear, she pulled into a parking space. Through the plate glass window she could see his muscular form in a chest–hugging polo shirt, tipping back a coke can in the air– conditioned display room. It was a sight that excited most of the female population of Tavares. When he saw her, his square face broke into a wide grin and he waved. Now’s as good a time as any, she decided.
    As soon as she stepped though the door, he threw an arm round her shoulders. “What can I do for you, kid?”
    She knew exactly what she wanted him to do, but she wanted to spring her plan in a more seductive setting. Twisting free, she glanced at the open office door. “Your dad’s probably watching. But, yeah, there is something. How about meeting me at the Pub on the Lake tonight about six–thirty? I have a favor to ask.”
    His thick blond eyebrows contracted. “Like what?”
    Moving closer, she beamed up at him. “Like you remember the movie Ghostbusters? You can help me on a stake–out.”
    It took a minute for the words to register. Then he threw back his head and let out a yelp of laughter. “You’re kidding!” He gave her arm a nudge. “I can think of something more fun than that.”
    No need to scare him off. She patted his hand. “At six–thirty. We’ll talk then.” He was still chuckling when she trotted back down the steps.
    ***
    At the Leesburg Public Library Brandy asked for the 1945 microfiche files of the Commercial. When the missing girl vanished into Lake Dora, Brandy judged the news would be covered by the county’s largest newspaper. Perched in a carrel before a viewer, she began to check the editions after September 2, the day World War II ended.
    In a November edition, she finally found the story of the drowning, the heading prominently displayed on page 2 of the first section: Tavares Girl Dead in Tragic Accident and beside it, her photograph. The picture, undoubtedly an earlier high school yearbook pose, took Brandy by surprise. It showed a stunning face——great, dark eyes, delicate features, dark hair caught up in a pompadour and then allowed to fall in a shining sheath to her shoulders. Beneath it ran a two–column story:
    A