Page 32 of The House on Forgotten Hill

“I was about to say the same thing.” I looked from him to Estelle. “No matter what’s on this film, I don’t want anyone else hearing about it until I’ve had time to decide what I need to do next. But I promise you, I’ll do the right thing.”

Caleb folded his arms and nodded. “You have my word.”

“Mine too.” Estelle hesitated, then added, “But if what’s on that film has anything to do with Lara, I expect you’ll turn it over to the police.”

I reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “I promise.”

Caleb stood, and I handed him the roll of film.

“Let’s see what your father left behind,” he said. “You can wait out here until I’m done. It shouldn’t take too long.”

He disappeared through a door at the back of the studio, leaving Estelle and me alone. For a while, neither of us spoke, the ticking of an old clock on the wall filling the silence as we waited for the good news, or bad, depending on how one looked at it.

Estelle sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring at the floor. “You think he found something, don’t you?”

“My father?”

She nodded.

“I think he suspected something,” I said, “and that he was trying to prove it. Maybe that’s why he never said anything to you. He wanted to be sure.”

She let out a long sigh. “I spent twenty years believing there was more to your father’s death than anyone wanted to admit. Now I’m terrified we might actually find out the truth.”

I didn’t know what to say because I was terrified too.

Almost an hour passed before the darkroom door opened and Caleb stepped into the room carrying a thick stack of photographs.

For a moment, he just stood there, his face forlorn.

“Caleb?” Estelle asked. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” he said. “You need to see these photos for yourselves.”

He crossed the room and handed the stack of photos to me.

As I lifted the first image, my hand trembled.

It was a bedroom.

The picture had been taken from a distance, through a window.

Standing inside the room were a man and a woman.

“Do you recognize anyone?” Caleb asked.

Estelle leaned closer.

Then her eyes widened, and she pointed at the man. “It’s Preston.”

I looked again.

Even from a distance, there was no mistaking him.

The dark hair.

The broad shoulders.

The profile.