Buried Truth

by Jannine Gallant

  “Stop right there.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “You may want to avoid my kitchen.”

  “Good to know, but what I was going to say is I can change. I have clothes from my trip in the Jeep, since I haven’t been back to my mom’s yet.”

  Knowing he’d come straight to see her the minute he arrived in town filled Leah with warmth despite the cold wind. She kissed him again and stepped back. “Go change.” She paused to pull the film canister from her pocket. “On your way through, can you please put this on the table? Barney buried it in the garden.”

  “What have you got there?”

  “The film roll we found in the time capsule. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to it. Now I can get the pictures developed.”

  He took it from her and popped the lid. “There’s some corrosion on the casing. Dampness might have damaged the negatives. I’m not sure a technician would want to touch this.”

  “No? That sucks. I was looking forward to seeing those photos. Do you think they’re all ruined?”

  “I really don’t know. Some of the roll might have survived.” He frowned. “I could try to develop the film. I’ve done a little photography, including the technical side, but I don’t have access to a darkroom here.”

  “There’s one at the high school, and I know the woman who teaches the photography and art classes. I could ask her if she’ll let you use their darkroom.”

  “Sure. I’m curious to see if any of the negatives can be salvaged, too.”

  “Then I’ll call her. In the meantime, go change. I need to finish in the garden, and I promised Barney a walk later.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Leah did a happy dance down the row between the pumpkins and the squash before dropping to her knees beside the potato hills. Slowly her smile faded. She couldn’t deny her feelings for Ryan had escalated far beyond friendship and attraction. His presence made her day complete. And his absence, well . . .

  She picked up the trowel and stared blankly at the loosened earth around the plants. He cared about her. A lot. But she couldn’t help wondering if all those dirty dishes in the sink would be a deal breaker. Nor did she have any desire to start making her bed every morning. She couldn’t change who she was any more than he could.

  Did something as petty as cleaning habits even matter? She had a job in Siren Cove, one she enjoyed most days, one she had no intention of quitting. Not that she could afford to, anyway. And Ryan had made no mention of staying in town after his mom got her cast removed.

  She glanced over at Barney, tail waving as he stuck his nose down a gopher hole, not a care in the world. Right now, all she wanted was to be like her dog and bury her head in the sand—or more accurately, the dirt—and pretend the problem didn’t exist. So when Ryan returned, wearing faded jeans and a smile, she pushed her worries to the back of her mind as her heartbeat quickened. She’d ignore her fears, at least for today . . .

  * * *

  Ryan stared at the row of prints laid out on the counter in the high school darkroom. Only five had been salvageable, and the quality of those was pretty horrible after twenty years buried in the ground. Blurry and distorted, he tried to make out the images in the dim light. Maybe photos from a Halloween party? Figures dressed in costumes stood around a bonfire. Not kids, though. He was pretty certain they were adult-sized. He picked up one picture by the edge and held it closer to the light. Strange, all the figures seemed to be dressed in long robes. Not white like ghost costumes. Gray, with a single man—or possibly a woman—garbed in black in the center of the group.

  When a rap echoed through the room, he laid the photo down with the others and stepped around the center island to open the door. “Hey, Britt, come on in.”

  Britt Forsythe didn’t look old enough to be a high school teacher. Hell, she barely looked old enough to be one of her own students. The photography teacher pushed heavy, horn-rimmed glasses up her nose and snapped her gum. “How’d it go?”

  “Only five negatives from the center of the roll came out. The rest weren’t salvageable.”

  “That’s too bad. Anything good on the ones you printed?”

  “They’re sort of odd.” He waved a hand toward the counter. “Come have a look.”

  “I would, but I’m running a little late. If you’re finished . . .”

  “Sure. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Ryan gathered up the prints and slid them into a folder along with the negatives. “I really appreciate you letting me use your lab.”

  Britt gave him a shy smile. “Happy to help out our most successful alumnus to date.” She flipped off the light in the darkroom and walked beside him between groupings of tables. “Old Mr. Anderson, the computer science teacher, uses you as an example of what can happen if students apply themselves to their studies.”

  Ryan grinned back at her. “That’s hilarious since I seem to remember spending more time in his class daydreaming than listening to his lectures.”

  “Apparently all that dreaming paid off.” She shut the classroom door behind them and locked it.

  “I like to think so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded check. “Here’s a donation for photography and art supplies for your classes. Thanks again for helping me out.”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “I want to. I appreciate your time.”

  She took a quick peek at the check, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my. You can use my darkroom anytime you want.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He followed her outside and headed straight to his Jeep. After starting the engine, he pulled out his cell to call Leah. “Are you home from work yet?”

  “Just got here. Did any of the photos turn out?”

  “A few of them. Can I come over?”

  “Of course. I’ll just straighten up . . .” Her voice faded.

  He frowned then shifted into gear. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Great.”

  Ryan dropped the phone on the seat as he cruised slowly over the speed bumps in the parking lot and headed out to the main road. Leah had been acting a little odd since he’d returned from Portland. Jittery. He’d love to chalk it up to nerves after having been clocked on the head, but he had a sinking feeling the problem was more personal. Almost like she was afraid of . . . something. He didn’t have a clue what. Or maybe his imagination was working overtime. She’d certainly seemed happy enough to have him around.

  A few minutes later, he turned down her driveway and stopped in front of the carport. After grabbing the folder off the dash, he got out, slammed the door, and greeted Barney. “Hey, bud.”

  The dog licked his hand before running off toward the back of the house.

  “Over here, Ryan.”

  He changed directions to approach the front porch, where Leah leaned against the railing. “How was your day?” He took the steps two at a time and pulled her close to drop a kiss on her upturned lips.

  “Good.” She pointed toward the rattan couch. “It’s such a nice afternoon, I thought we’d sit outside. I can’t wait to see those photos.”

  He followed her over to the seat and dropped down beside her. “The pictures aren’t of our classmates. They’re actually pretty weird.”

  Leah pushed a long strand of hair behind one ear and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “See for yourself.” He opened the folder across his knees. “The images are a little difficult to make out, but it looks like some sort of costume party in the woods. There are trees in the background.”

  She picked up the top photo then glanced through the others. “These are strange. They look like adults or teens, not kids. What’s that dark shape in the center? A table of some sort?”

  Ryan pulled out one of the other photos. “This one has a slightly better view. It’s definitely something large and flat. Is there someone lying on top of it?” He touched a whitish blur. “Those look like legs.”

  “I’m getting a l
ittle creeped out here.” Leah shuddered. “You can’t see any faces. Those hoods cast shadows that distort their features in the dark.” She touched each figure and counted. “Eight in gray plus the one in black. Then whoever was taking the pictures.”

  “Unless the camera was set up on a tripod. The angle is exactly the same in each photo. Only the people have moved.” He touched one hooded figure. “This guy is a little taller than the others, and that one is beefier. Their positions shift from shot to shot, so maybe they were taken over time.”

  “I wonder why one person is dressed in black.”

  “Haven’t a clue.” Ryan held up a picture. “In this one, it looks like there’s something shiny in his hand, but the photo’s so blurred it’s hard to tell what it is.”

  Leah rose to her feet. “I’ll get a magnifying glass. Maybe that’ll help, although I’m not too sure I want to see exactly what they’re doing.” Her eyes widened. “Some kind of frat house initiation ceremony?”

  “Could be, but how would film belonging to students at the university wind up in our time capsule? That’s over an hour’s drive from here”

  “Good point.” She turned away. A moment later, the screen door slapped shut behind her as she entered the house.

  Standing, he laid out each photo on the porch railing where the setting sun cast direct rays on the pictures. When Leah returned, she handed him an old-fashioned magnifying glass with a long black handle.

  “Let’s see what we have.” He focused on the photo with the clearest view of the black-robed figure. Enlarged, the object in his hand appeared to be—

  “Is that a knife?” Leah’s voice rose. “The firelight reflects off it the way it would on shiny metal.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” He studied each hooded figure in turn. “I’m not sure why, but I’d say they’re all men.”

  “It’s the way they stand. Anyway, I’d swear this one has a beard.”

  “Yeah, there’s a dark shadow on his chin. No way to identify any of them, though.”

  “What about the person lying down? Maybe with the magnifying glass . . .”

  He held it over the center of each photo in turn. “Yeah, those are legs and feet. You can see them clearly between the two figures on the right in this shot.”

  Leah gripped his hand. “Here.” She positioned the magnifying glass above the third photo. “Check the gap between the guy in black and the tall one. Is that what I think it is?”

  “Looks like a bare breast.”

  “Yeah, it does, and I’d swear that’s long, pale hair hanging down over the edge of the table or whatever it is.”

  “There’s some kind of cloth draped over it. Too bad you can’t see the woman’s face in any of the photos.”

  Leah jerked back and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Ryan.” Her voice broke. “What are they doing to that poor woman?”

  He dropped the magnifying glass and pulled her against his chest. His heart pounded as he held her close. “Nothing good.”

  She pressed her face to his shoulder. Her words came out in a whisper. “Something . . . evil.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Leah scrubbed a pan crusted with oatmeal and wondered why no one had patented the adhesive quality to use as glue. Maybe if she’d washed the dishes this morning instead of leaving the pan to sit on the stove . . . She gripped the handle with shaking fingers. She needed to pull herself together.

  Ryan jotted something down on the pad of paper resting next to the pictures he’d spread across the table before glancing up. “I’d like to consider what we know first. These photos were taken twenty years ago. There’s no rush to turn them over to the authorities this second.”

  He had a point. Whoever the woman stretched out naked in the pictures was, they certainly couldn’t help her after all this time. A shudder rippled through her, and she turned back to the sink full of dishes. Just looking at those images made her feel sick.

  “What, precisely, do we know?”

  “Well, the exact date the roll of film was put in the time capsule is established. Identifying the people in these pictures may not be possible, but we can figure out who had access to the box our class buried twenty years ago.”

  She sloshed water as she rinsed the oatmeal pan and set it on the drain rack. “Why would anyone put undeveloped film of sicko photos like that in our time capsule? It makes no sense.”

  “I can only think of one reason.” Ryan’s voice hardened. “To hide it. Dropping it in the box must have been a spur-of-the-moment decision and implies the person was desperate or frightened.”

  Tamping down her emotions, she tried to look at the facts like a puzzle. How did each piece fit? “Okay, I agree with your hypothesis. Whoever was carrying around that film put it in the time capsule to get rid of it in a hurry, knowing it wouldn’t be found for years . . . if ever.”

  “Exactly. So the challenge is to determine who had access to the box before it was buried. I’m making a list.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Leah waved a hand. “You’re organized, and I’m not. The state of my kitchen is ample proof of that. Sorry, but I’m a little on edge.” She rinsed the last of the dishes and dried her hands on a towel. “So, who’s on your suspect list? Us?”

  He regarded her steadily as she walked over to pull out the chair next to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess. Those photographs bother me . . . a lot, but I’m not going to lose it on you.”

  “You aren’t the only one feeling disgusted and angry. That’s why I want to figure this out.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I know. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I believe we can eliminate the twenty-odd kids who were in Sloan Manning’s class. We were ten at the time, and we’ve agreed the people in these pictures aren’t children. So, let’s focus on the adults who had access to the time capsule.”

  “Okay. Obviously Sloan did.”

  “He’s at the top of my list.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I, but it has to be done.”

  She pressed fingers to her eyes and forced herself to think before glancing up. “Edgar Vargas was in and out of the room. I remember he went to get a hammer to nail down the lid.”

  Ryan made a note on his list. “We had a party. There were parent helpers in the classroom, including my mom.”

  “Paige’s mom brought frosted sugar cookies.”

  He nodded. “I remember those cookies. Delicious, and she always decorated them for the holidays. I seem to recall the room was all decked out for Halloween.”

  “It was actually early November when we buried the time capsule, and we hadn’t taken down the witch and skeleton art projects yet. We planned our reunion over the Fall Festival weekend, hoping to get a better turnout, so we were a few weeks shy of twenty years when we unveiled the time capsule.” Leah planted an elbow on the table. “We didn’t wait for the exact anniversary.”

  “Obviously you have a better memory than I do. Which other moms were present?”

  “Don’t be sexist. A couple of dads dug the hole.” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to picture that day so long ago. “I think Pete’s father was one of them.”

  “Interesting.” Ryan added Waylon Brewster to the list then pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll ask my mom. Maybe she’ll remember the other parents since she helped that day.”

  Leah couldn’t control the bitter edge to her voice. “Are you going to put her name and Ava Shephard’s on that list?”

  “I guess I should.” He was silent for a moment. “You really hate this, don’t you?”

  “I look for the best in people instead of the worst.” She stood. “I’m not very hungry, but I suppose I should start dinner while you talk to her.”

  Ryan rose slowly and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Sit. You can pick m
y mom’s brain while I cook. Tell her I haven’t forgotten she has her book club meeting tonight, and I’ll be home in an hour to drive her there.”

  “Fine.” She returned to her chair. “How much of this situation do you want me to explain?”

  “Whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulled a bowl off the cupboard shelf then opened the refrigerator door.

  Leah took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts to dial. Marion answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Mrs. A. It’s Leah.”

  “Well, hello there. How are you, dear?”

  Her cheerful tone eased some of Leah’s tension, and she loosened her grip on the cell. “Fine.”

  “Are you looking for Ryan? I’m afraid he isn’t here right now, but—”

  “Actually, he’s with me. He asked me to tell you he’ll be home shortly to take you to your book club meeting.”

  “No need. Flo is picking me up. I’ve told that boy time and again I’m perfectly capable of getting along on my own, but he won’t listen. Not that I want him to go home. Still . . .”

  Leah pressed a hand to the ache in her chest as Ryan’s mother chatted away. Apparently his time in Siren Cove might be even shorter than she’d thought. When Marion paused to take a breath, Leah broke in, “Uh, we were wondering if you could help clear up a few facts about the day we buried the time capsule all those years ago.”

  “Well, sure, if I can. I remember taking an extra-long lunch break from work at the travel agency to help with the class party. That was back before everyone booked their own vacations online. What did you want to know?”

  “Which other adults were around that day? I know Paige’s mom helped, and I think Waylon Brewster was there.”

  “That’s right. Let me think.” She paused for a moment. “Three dads were out digging the hole where they buried the time capsule. I remember thinking they were acting like little boys, bickering over who should do what, while Tina Radcliff, Ava Shephard, and I worked together inside like a well-oiled machine.”

  Leah smiled. “I’d forgotten Quentin’s mom helped out. Who were the fathers, do you remember?”