"That's personal!" Cynthia said. "You can't go around reading other people's mail!"
"It's Fred's computer. That gives him the right. I'm sure there's a Latin term for it."
"Snoopus maximus, I believe," Cynthia answered. "Besides, think of the jury trial! It might taint Fred's open mind."
Dean looked at his stepfather, who nodded in agreement. "Then show me how to do it," Dean whispered as an aside.
"Don't think you can get in without their password," Fred answered as Cynthia rolled her eyes.
The phone interrupted any further discussion of electronic larceny. Cynthia answered. Her side of the conversation consisted of a short series of no's. When she hung up, there was a questioning look on her face.
"That was the strangest conversation I've ever had," she said. "A woman identified herself as Mrs. Fryatt and asked if Martha had telephoned today, or if we'd heard from her, or from her mother, or anyone else concerning Martha. Then she said thank you and hung up."
"Was Mrs. What's-her-name from the state?" Dean asked.
"I think so, but she began asking questions so quickly she didn't give me time to ask."
"Did she sound-concerned?" Fred asked.
"It was difficult to tell."
"Those state agency people never get excited," Dean said. "They've seen everything and nothing fazes them anymore."
"Maybe Martha's coming back and the woman just wanted to know if we've been told!" Fred wore an ear-to-ear grin. Dean didn't want to pop his bubble, so he remained quiet. His interpretation of the conversation was decidedly different. He could tell by the look on his wife's face that she shared his concern.