When Paul emerged from the library, the team looked up at him in unison. Their BLTs forgotten, they expectantly waited on what the historian had uncovered. Jackson's gut had been eating itself for two hours.
"So." Paul claimed a dining room chair near Ava and scooted closer. He handed her a piece of paper. "This is Peter Trumble. His wife had the likeness painted shortly before their first son was born. It took a lot of digging to find it. I had to go to one of those Ancestry sites. A distant relative of yours had this posted."
Her eyes bugged. "No way."
The team rose and formed a circle around her, where Jackson got a good look.
Peter Trumble had a long, straight nose, square jaw, and formidable mouth, which was unsmiling in the likeness. His hair, a dark brown and curled slightly at the ends, was long enough to brush the top of his ears and collar. Under two bushy eyebrows, eyes the same shape and color of Ava's stared back at them.