58. Jace
Chapter 58
Jace
T he university library was the fanciest fucking library I’d ever seen. Wolf and I had made our way through glass doors and into a sprawling modern building with multiple floors and massive windows.
Checking in with the archival desk was like trying to get into a courtroom for the trial of the century. The older woman in front of us had to store her bag in a locker, and we were given a long list of instructions for handling archived material along with gloves we were supposed to use when handling books and documents.
A greeter called someone to let them know we’d arrived and a few minutes later a young guy — a student probably — in jeans and a collared shirt showed us down to the basement with the woman, who was apparently doing research for a book.
We took two flights of stairs to the basement where several rooms were enclosed in walls of glass.
“You can wait here,” the archive specialist told us. He turned to the woman. “Follow me. I’ll set you up."
She gave us an encouraging smile and followed him into one of the glass rooms.
“I can’t believe this is a library,” I muttered to Wolf.
“No kidding,” Wolf said.
The kid returned a few minutes later. “What is it you’re looking for again?”
“Back issues of The Daily Free Press ,” Wolf said.
“Years?”
Wolf thought about it. “Say… 2000 to 2006?”
The kid nodded. “Those are digitized. I’ll take you to the computer room.”
“Could we have accessed these online?” I asked. “We looked and didn’t find them.”
The kid shook his head and opened a glass door to one of the enclosed rooms. Beyond the glass I could see two tables, rows of sleek new computers lined up on both of them.
“They’ve been digitally archived, but they’re only accessible through the closed network on our system,” he said as we stepped inside. “You're the independent journalists, right?”
“Uh… yep.” I’d forgotten that was the reason Wolf had entered for our visit when we’d booked the time slot.
“Cool,” he said. “It’s a growing field. Super interesting.”
“It is.”
“You looking into a cold case or something? True crime is my jam.”
“Something like that,” Wolf said.
“Nice.” He turned on two of the monitors. “Take a seat and I’ll queue up the Free Press archive.”
Wolf and I sat side by side while the kid spent the next ten minutes showing us the search and navigation functions.
“You can print,” he said, “but the computer will keep a record and the fee is ten cents a page if you’re not a student.”
“Thanks,” Wolf said.
The Daily Free Press was printed in a classic news font at the top of my screen.
I was scrolling before the kid was even out of the room.