The photograph changed the investigation.
Until then, Beatrice could have argued that she was protecting the camp from a misunderstanding.
She could have claimed ignorance.
She could have blamed staff.
Now there was a photograph placing her at the retreat house decades earlier.
She had not simply arrived recently.
She had history there.
And she had lied about it.
Detective Alvarez enlarged the photograph on her tablet.
The children stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the same weathered building.
The trees behind them were younger.
The roof had a different shape.
But the front porch was unmistakable.
“So she was there in 1998,” I said.
“Looks that way.”
“Doing what?”
“We're finding out.”
Renata watched the photograph.
“She wasn't the director then.”
“No.”
“She was a counselor.”
Detective Alvarez looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Daniela found her name.”
“Where?”
“In an old book.”
“What book?”
“She said it had pictures.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
Renata looked frightened again.
“She said the director didn't want anyone opening it.”
The detective wrote this down.
Then another officer entered.
“We found the cabinet records.”
“What kind of records?”
“Attendance books.”
“From 1998?”
“Some from then. Others from later years.”
“Anything about missing children?”
The officer hesitated.
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are gaps.”
“Gaps?”
“Pages removed.”
My stomach turned.
“How many?”
“Different books. Different years.”
Detective Alvarez looked at me.
“They may have been hiding something for a long time.”
I thought of the list of twenty-nine names.
Then the gray blanket.
Then Daniela.
“How many children?”
“We don't know yet.”
Renata whispered, “Twenty-nine.”
The detective looked at her.
“What?”
“Twenty-nine names.”
“You mean the wall?”
Renata nodded.
“Maybe the list isn't only this summer.”
That possibility was worse than anything I had imagined.
Detective Alvarez returned to the camp.
I remained with Renata.
She asked for water.
I helped her drink.
Then she said something that made me stop.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Daniela said her mother didn't know.”
“Know what?”
“That she was scared.”
I waited.
“She said her mother thought camp was safe.”
I felt a pressure behind my eyes.
“What did Daniela say about her mother?”
“She said she promised to come back.”
I took Renata's hand.
“Did she say why?”
“She wanted to tell her everything.”
“What everything?”
“The room.”
I looked down.
The room without windows had become the center of everything.
At noon, Detective Alvarez called again.
“We found another entrance.”
“Where?”
“Behind the laundry room.”
Renata had been right.
“Does it lead under the house?”
“Yes.”
“Where does it come out?”
“Near the storage building.”
I closed my eyes.
“How old is it?”
“Hard to say.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A child's shoe.”
My breath caught.
“Red?”
“No. Blue.”
“Could it belong to Daniela?”
“We don't know yet.”
Renata heard me.
“Daniela wore red shoes.”
The detective heard that through the phone.
“We'll check.”
Then the line went quiet.
A few seconds later, Detective Alvarez said, “There's something else.”
“What?”
“The tunnel walls have marks.”
“What kind?”
“Height marks.”
My skin prickled.
“How many?”
“Several.”
“Children?”
“Possibly.”
The detective sent another photograph.
A wall.
Horizontal lines.
Dates beside them.
Some were old.
Some were recent.
One line was dated three days earlier.
The initials beside it were D.M.
I stared.
“That's Daniela.”
“Yes.”
Renata looked at the photograph.
She nodded.
“That was her.”
The evidence was becoming impossible to explain away.
She had been there.
She had been measured.
And someone had recorded the date.
I asked Detective Alvarez whether they had found Daniela herself.
“No.”
The word landed heavily.
“But we found a second room.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Beyond the tunnel.”
“What is inside?”
“We're waiting for the forensic team.”
“Is there a door?”
“Yes.”
“Windows?”
“No.”
Renata closed her eyes.
“That room.”
Detective Alvarez said, “We haven't entered yet.”
“Why?”
“There are signs the door was recently opened and closed.”
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
“Could someone still be there?”
“We're treating it as possible.”
I held Renata's hand.
Then a loud sound came from the hallway.
An officer hurried past.
Detective Alvarez spoke into her radio.
“What happened?”
A nurse appeared at the doorway.
“Someone tried to enter the evidence room.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
The nurse looked frightened.
“A man wearing a maintenance uniform.”
“Did he get inside?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“He ran.”
Detective Alvarez stood.
“Did he touch anything?”
“The door handle.”
An officer immediately began securing the area.
I looked at Renata.
She had gone pale.
“Do you know him?”
She shook her head.
Then she whispered:
“He was in the picture.”
I turned.
“What picture?”
“The old one.”
Detective Alvarez heard her.
“Which man?”
Renata pointed toward the tablet.
A man stood behind the children in the 1998 photograph.
His face was partly hidden.
But he wore a dark jacket.
Renata's finger trembled.
“That man.”
The detective stared at the photograph.
Then at the hallway.
“Get me the security footage.”
She moved quickly.
I stayed with Renata.
“What did he do at camp?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Daniela know him?”
Renata nodded.
“What did she call him?”
She swallowed.
“The caretaker.”
I looked at Detective Alvarez.
She had heard.
“What's the caretaker's name?”
Renata shook her head.
“She said everyone called him Mr. Gray.”
The detective's face tightened.
“Find out who that is.”
An officer ran toward the elevator.
Minutes later, Detective Alvarez received a message.
She read it once.
Then again.
“Who is Mr. Gray?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“The retreat's maintenance contractor.”
“And?”
“He died eleven years ago.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead Appeared in the Hospital Footage, Forcing the Police to Question Who Had Been Protecting the Camp
The Bus Arrived Late, and One Small Detail Made Me Realize My Daughter Had Come Home Carrying Something No Child Should Have
Part 7 of 27
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