When Rosario's phone buzzed again, the train was pulling in at Grand Central and her thoughts were already hurtling on ahead. Was it even worth diving back into the newspaper archive if this guy was so media-averse? She didn't wanna discount it, but... ugh, maybe she was coming at this wrong. At Columbia he hadn't been shy, obviously. He'd been, like... Archer before Archer. People remembered him. So, college archives, then. Yearbooks. Student press. If she could pick up a trail there, maybe she could follow it?
The subway car juddered to a stop and Rosario stood, shouldering her bag. It'd have to wait till Monday after work. She could do some preliminary digging from the public library, though. Plus she had the wife's name – well, a first name – that was something she could look into. Maybe there'd been a marriage announcement. And she really wanted to find out how somebody went about wiping themself from Google.
She dug out her phone on the way to the turnstile and the crease of concentration between her brows softened as she read the message.
Lyra was the best friend. She could be getting drunk with a bunch of rich kids right now – well, technically she was getting drunk with a bunch of rich kids right now, and well on the way there going by the emotional turn in her messages, but she could be doing just that and instead she was pushing them for information and texting Rosario between drinks.
I love you too, superspy. Are you hydrating?
To someone who didn't know her, her reply might have read as a blow-off, the Rosario said nothing less than what she meant. Besides, who else was gonna remind Lyra to drink water?