Undeniable Proof

She peered into the hole and thought she saw another piece of the torn photograph. How odd.

Vaulting over the couch she dug in her purse for the penlight on her key ring. In the kitchen she found a butter knife and returned to behind the couch.

Shining the tiny light into the hole, she began to dig out the pieces of the photo with the butter knife. She still couldn’t tell how deep the hole was—obviously too deep for her dim light. But there were more pieces of the photograph in there, as if they’d fallen down from the floor above.

Diligently she worked the pieces out until she couldn’t reach any more.

Just as she was starting to collect the scraps, a sliver of light sliced down through the top of the hole. Willa angled her gaze upward into the opening and saw light coming through what appeared to be a crack in floorboards upstairs.

She’d thought no one lived directly above her. She heard the creak of footsteps on the floor overhead. The light went out. She listened, but heard nothing more.

Taking the pieces of the photograph over to the small kitchen table, she pulled up a chair and began to fit the pieces together like a puzzle, curious after seeing the veiled face in the first piece.

The graphic artist who’d mentioned Cape Diablo had also been an avid photographer. Was it possible this was one of her photos? Or maybe that she’d even stayed in this very room?

The photograph began to take shape. Several of the edge pieces were missing but she was starting to see an image. What was it she was looking at?

She laid down the last piece and felt a jolt. It was a photo of the pool in the courtyard, the water murky and dark.

Funny, but the face that had spurred her curiosity enough to put the photograph back together in the first place seemed to have disappeared.

That was strange.

Carefully she turned the pieces of the photograph a hundred and eighty degrees and gasped.

A boy of about four was lying on the bottom of the pool in the deep end, the dark water like a mask over his face. There was no doubt that the child was dead.

Chapter Five

Abruptly Willa shoved back her chair and stumbled to her feet. Odell had said Andres Santiago’s only son had died here. Drowned in the pool? But that had been more than thirty years ago.

Her hands were shaking. How long had this photo been in the wall? If the shot had been taken by her friend, then it would have been just weeks ago.

Suddenly scared, Willa looked at the photograph again.

The body on the bottom of the pool was gone. So was the little boy’s terrified face.

She stared down at the photograph. Had she just imagined seeing the little boy? Could it have been a trick of the light? Or just her imagination after the terrible story Odell had told her?

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