Merrill Cooms new project, After, got off to a start the week we first met Julie. Betsy spotted the web site and began monitoring it daily.
"They keep close tabs on scores of open cases and use freedom of information statutes to monitor progress," she told me. "The site is helpful in tracking the status of our tips because they keep asking questions until they get answers. I can see where the local law enforcement people wouldn't be thrilled with these folks looking over their shoulder and pushing them."
"How do you find individual cases?" I asked.
"The site is indexed and assigned case numbers. It's easy to identify specific crimes and follow them up. After is getting a lot of hits. The public loves it."
Our unknown contributions to the web site continued to methodically move forward. Most of our cases proved to be runaways or missing persons and our limitations due to non-specific known time or age of the event continued to plague us. Quinn, the scientist, remained frustrated with his inability to bring Howie back to a specific place and precise time further back than a day or two. It exasperated him that he never gained any knowledge how Howie possessed his ability.
Betsy's clandestine research about Julie, such as it was, was shared only with me. Birth information showed her age at twenty-six. Thomas O'Malley, presumed to be her father, died fifteen years ago. Mildred O'Malley, his wife was not listed as living in Massachusetts and the name was too common for Betsy to look in all the states. A brother Robert, the friar, was a Vermont citizen.
Julie maintained no Face Book or Twitter account, nor could Betsy locate her on any other social network sites. No smoking gun revelations resulted from her clandestine research.
Howie neglecteded to mention his girlfriend as he plodded through the week. The rest of us waited in nervous anticipation for her Friday arrival, not knowing if we'd even see her when she returned. Weekends were private time for all of us and we weren't sure if Howie would adopt the usual routine of doing our own thing.
Successes were limited for the week with one found child, accidently trapped in a locked room of an empty house and one spousal abduction, in the face of a restraining order. I was surprised when the recipient of my muffled tip-calls was not the usual person. This new person was there for the entire week. I was tempted to comment, but refrained and kept my conversation all business.
The few times Howie was out of ear shot, the rest of us gossiped about his love life like back fence crones but failed to reach a consensus. We had little choice but to wait and see if the weekend presented any answers. Betsy and Martha, often confidants, admitted to one another that they'd both researched Julie with similar bland results.