We stopped at a red light. Squares would not turn and look at me.

"I have to keep searching," I said, "because I'm not sure what I'll do if I don't. I'm not suicidal or anything, but if I stop running" I stopped, tried to think how to say this, settled for the simple "it'll catch up to me."

"It's going to catch you eventually, no matter what," Squares said.

"I know. But by then, maybe I'll have done something good. Maybe I'll have saved her daughter. Maybe, even though she's dead, I'll have helped her."

"Or," Squares countered, "you might find out that she was not the woman you believed her to be. That she fooled us all and worse."

"Then so be it," I said. "You still with me?"

"To the end, Kemosabi."

"Good, because I think I have an idea."

His leather face cracked into that smile. "Rock and roll, dude. Lay it on me."

"We've been forgetting something."

"What?"

" New Mexico. Sheila's fingerprints were found at a murder scene in New Mexico."

He nodded. "You think that murder has something to do with Carly?"

"Could be."

He nodded. "But we don't even know who was killed in New Mexico. Hell, we don't even know where the murder scene is exactly."

"That's where my plan comes into action," I said. "Drop me off at home. I think I need to do a little Web surfing."

Yes, I had a plan.

It stood to reason that the FBI were not the ones to discover the bodies. Probably a local cop did. Or maybe a neighbor. Or a relative. And since this murder had taken place in a town not already anesthetized to such sudden violence, the crime had probably been reported in the local paper.

I surfed to refdesk.com and clicked on national newspapers. They had thirty-three listings for New Mexico. I tried the ones in the Albuquerque area. I sat back and let the page load. Found one. Okay, good. I clicked on to the archives and started searching. I typed "murder" in. Too many hits. I tried "double murder." That didn't work either. I tried another paper. Then another.

It took almost an hour, but I finally nailed it:

TWO MEN FOUND MURDERED

Small community shocked by Yvonne Sterno

Late last night, the gated Albuquerque suburb of Stonepointe was reeling from news that two men were both shot in the head, probably in broad daylight, and found in one of the community's homes. "I didn't hear a thing," said Fred Davison, a neighbor. "I just can't believe something like this could happen in our community." The two men remain unidentified. Police had no comment other than to say that they were investigating. "This is an ongoing investigation. We're following several leads." The homeowner is listed as Owen Enfield. An autopsy is scheduled for this morning.

That was about it. I searched the next day. Nothing. I searched the day after. Still nothing. I searched for all the stories written by Yvonne Sterno. There were pieces on local weddings and charity events. Nothing, not another word, about the murders.

I sat back.

Why weren't there more stories?

One way to find out. I picked up the phone and began to dial the number for the New Mexico Star-Beacon. Maybe I'd get lucky and reach Yvonne Sterno. And maybe she'd tell me something.

The switchboard was one of those machines that ask you to spell your party's last name. I had dialed the S-T-E-R when the machine cut in and told me to hit the pound key if I was trying to reach Yvonne Sterno. I followed orders. Two rings later a machine picked up.

"This is Yvonne Sterno at the Star-Beacon. I'm either on the phone or away from my desk."

I hung up. I was still online so I brought up switchboard. com I typed in Sterno's name and tried the Albuquerque area. Bingo. A Y and M Sterno" was listed as living at 26 Canterbury Drive in Albuquerque. I dialed the number. A woman answered.

"Hello?" Then she shouted, "Quiet back there, Mommy's on the phone."

The squeal of young children did not let up.

"Yvonne Sterno?"

"You selling something?"

"No."

"Then yes, speaking."

"My name is Will Klein "

"Sure sounds like you're selling something."

"I'm not," I said. "Are you the same Yvonne Sterno that writes for the Star-Beacon)"

"What did you say your name was?" Before I could reply, she shouted, "Hey, I told you two to knock if off. Tommy, give him the Game Boy. No, now!" Back to me. "Hello?"

"My name is Will Klein. I wanted to talk to you about that double murder you wrote about recently."

"Uh-huh. And what's your interest in the case?"

"I just have a few questions."

"I'm not a library, Mr. Klein."

"Please, call me Will. And bear with me for just a moment. How often do murders occur in places like Stonepointe?"

"Rarely."

"And double murders where the victims are found like this?"

"This would be the first that I'm aware of."

"So," I said, "why didn't it get more coverage?"

The kids erupted again. So did Yvonne Sterno. "That's it! Tommy, get up to your room. Right, right, save it for the judge, bud, let's move. And you, give me that Game Boy. Hand it over before I stick it down the disposal." I heard the phone being picked up again. "And again I will ask you: What's your interest in the case?"

I knew enough reporters to know that the way to their hearts is through their byline. "I may have pertinent information on the case."

"Pertinent," she repeated. "That's a good word there, Will."

"I think you'll find what I say interesting."

"Where you calling from anyway?"

" New York City," I said.

There was a pause. "A long way from the murder scene."

"Yes."

"So I'm listening. What, pray tell, will I find both pertinent and interesting?"

"First I need to know a few basics."

"That's not how I work, Will."

"I looked up your other pieces, Mrs. Sterno."

"It's miz. And since we're all buddy-buddy, just call me Yvonne."

"Fine," I said. "You mostly do features, Yvonne. You cover weddings. You cover society dinners."

"They have great eats, Will, and I look fabulous in a black dress. What's your point?"

"A story like this doesn't fall in your lap every day."

"Okay, you're getting me all hot and bothered here. Your point?"

"My point is, take a chance. Just answer a few questions. What's the harm? And who knows, maybe I'm legit."

When she did not respond, I pushed ahead.

"You land a big murder story like this. But the article doesn't list victims or suspects or any real details."

"I didn't know any," she said. "The report came in over the scanner late at night. We barely made it in time for the morning edition."

"So why no follow-up? This had to be a huge event. Why was there only that one piece?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

"Give me a second. The kids are acting up again."

Only I wasn't hearing any noise this time.

"I was closed down," she said softly.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we were lucky to get even that much into the paper. By the next morning there were feds all over the place. The local SAC "

"SAC?"

"Special Agent in Charge. The head fed in the area. He got my boss to shut the story down. I tried a little on my own, but all I got was a bunch of no-comments."

"Is that odd?"

"I don't know, Will. I haven't covered a murder before. But yeah, I'd say it sounds pretty odd."

"What do you take it to mean?"

"From the way my boss has been acting?" Yvonne took a deep breath. "It's big. Very big. Bigger than a double murder. Your turn, Will."

I wondered how far I should go. "Are you aware of any fingerprints found at the scene?"

"No."

"There was one set belonging to a woman."

"Goon."

"That woman was found dead yesterday."

"Whoa, Nelly. Murdered?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"A small town in Nebraska."