“I’m on it.” Zander pulled out his phone.

“Meadow Springs went out of business a decade ago,” said Kenner, entering the room. He had a small, clear, rectangular object in his hand. “The place sat empty for a few years before a new group bought it. You’re gonna have to do some digging. Who knows if the new owners got the old records? I guess they might be able to put you in touch with the previous owners.”

“Shit,” stated Mason. Another speed bump.

“Exactly,” agreed Kenner. He handed Mason the rectangle. “Try this.”

It was a magnifier. Mason set the photo on the table and the three-by-five piece of plastic directly on top of it. The image jumped in size and big smiling faces grinned at him. “Perfect,” he breathed.

“Easier than moving my reading glasses on and off when I’m at my desk,” Kenner commented. “Tried bifocals and hated them. This works like a charm.”

Mason slid the rectangle across the photo. Grainy faces emerged and vanished as the block moved.

“Go back,” said Ray, leaning over the table.

He slid the block back an inch and spotted a familiar face at the same moment Ray exclaimed, “There!” Carson Scott.

Carson stood in the back row. He was taller than 90 percent of the other kids. His smile as distinctive then as it was today. Was last week.

Ray leaned closer as Mason studied the boys standing closest to Carson. “Is that Joe Upton?” he asked, placing a finger on the block. Mason studied the young face. All the older images he’d seen had been of Joe at a much heavier weight.

“I think that’s him,” asserted Ray. “Look at the eyes and shape of his nose.”

Mason agreed. Joe stood three people away from Carson in the back row. He took a closer look at the boys between them, searching for Aaron King. He spotted him in the next row forward. “Aaron’s in the row before Carson. Same general area, though.”

Where is the man from the convenience store video?

He slid the block to the far right and stopped. The last boy in the row was the tallest.

A tingle started in his stomach. “This is him.”

Ray stared and Zander came around the table to study the image. Both men started to nod.

“He’s tall,” said Zander. “Like the man yesterday. And has the same narrow face. I think you might be right.”

“Now, how do we get a last name?” asked Mason. “There has to be a faster process than hoping that the old camp records exist.”

“We can run a search on all the Troys on the list,” Zander said. “We’ll eliminate the younger ones, look for ones that have died, or moved out of state. We should be able to get driver’s license pictures pretty fast. We’ll take a closer look at the ones who are still in the area first.”

“Searching Facebook might be even quicker as far as photos,” added Kenner. “You wouldn’t believe what people will post on their pages and leave wide open for anyone to look at. I wouldn’t automatically eliminate the counselors. Are there any Troys on that list?”

“One,” said Mason. “We can check him along with the rest.”

“What about Laura King?” suggested Ray. “Weren’t she and Aaron together in high school? Or at least knew each other? Maybe she’ll remember a guy named Troy whom Aaron kept in touch with.”

“I’ll start with our databases,” Zander said. “Mason, why don’t you contact Laura King, and Ray, you do the Facebook search.” He glanced at Detective Kenner. “Mind if we use your conference room for a while?”

“Go right ahead. I’ll look online, too,” Kenner offered.

Zander and Ray whipped out their laptops and Mason stepped out of the room to use his phone and call Laura King. He kept the photo of their three victims in his hand and squinted at the grainy image of who he hoped was Troy.

She answered on the third ring. He identified himself. “I’m trying to find out if Aaron might have had a friend during or even after high school whose first name was Troy. They would have shared an interest in rocket building, but I don’t think he went to the same school.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“I don’t know, Detective,” she said slowly. “Troy’s a rather common name, and Aaron had given up the rocket thing by the time he was finished with high school. That FBI agent took the box with the old yearbooks and rocket memorabilia. Seems like there were some photos in there. Did you look at those?”

Mason had. Several times. “They didn’t have names on them. We’re trying to figure out the last name of a rocket enthusiast named Troy that Aaron may have met at a summer camp.”

“I can’t think of anyone,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”

They ended the call, and Mason bit the inside of his cheek. A dead end. It’d been a bit of a stretch. He thought it was pretty rare that friends from high school kept in touch. Friends? Or would you avoid a person you’d committed murder with? Hell. He’d stay as far away as possible from a guy who knew that about him. And there was no way he’d introduce him to his wife or family. He’d been barking up the wrong tree by calling Laura King.

So what do you do with people you want to forget?

He went back to check on Ray and Zander’s progress.

Ray had pulled up the original Fremont Bridge video and convenience store video for Detective Kenner to watch. Together they were searching every Troy from the roster through social media.