Page 335 of Hidden Depths

Everyone looked at him.

“If they came for the journal, they won’t leave without it.”

Frank appeared in the shattered salon doorway.

His white shirt was smeared with dust.

His hair stood in every direction.

But Grandpa’s journal remained clutched against his chest.

“They didn’t get it.”

Rose stepped beside him.

“And they aren’t going to.”

Ward looked at the journal.

Then toward the dark marina.

“They may not need it anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They heard us read the entry aloud.”

The truth settled over us.

They knew about Thomas.

They knew about the second entrance.

And they knew we were planning to call Mom.

Hazel suddenly looked around the salon.

“Where’s Mom’s photograph?”

“What photograph?” I asked.

“The one Ivy brought from Thomas’s boathouse. The picture of Grandpa, Dad, Mom, and Thomas standing beside the old yacht.”

Ivy looked toward the broken camera bag.

“It was in the side pocket.”

The pocket had been cut open.

The photograph was gone.

They hadn’t come for the journal.

They had come for the picture.

For the faces.

Grandpa was dead.