either direction of the cabin.”
“Did he have a cell phone?”
Rachel grimaced. “ He couldn’t afford one. I offered one as a gift, but he refused it.”
“So how did he survive…financially, I mean?”
“He owns the truck, and the cabin. He lived off his social security, and a small annuity. His only real expenses were for his darkroom.”
“Darkroom?” Michael frowned. “Does he have a studio?”
“Nope.” Rachel laughed at the memory of the first time she’d gone to see his famous darkroom. “He turned the one bathroom in the cabin into a darkroom, and bought an outdoor shower. You know, the type rich people have at poolside—”
“Could you take me there?”
Rachel put down her coffee mug. “Why?”
He stroked Ralph’s fur, and eyed her from across the table. “An idea, that’s all.”
“You think there’s a connection between those guys wanting my camera, and Grandpa Henry’s darkroom, don’t you?” she asked, her voice rising.
Had the PD removed any film or photographs Grandpa had been working on since she was there last? Had Michael seen something in his file? She’d avoided going back to the cabin after that first investigation, not wanting to spend her days in tears again. But now she needed to get into the darkroom as soon as possible and find out.
Michael gave her the most heartwarming and sympathetic look. He shook his head. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m not sure there’s any connection at all. But this morning, you may have taken photos of something the guy didn’t want you to see.”
“And now you think maybe Grandpa had done something similar.” Rachel nodded, and bit at her lower lip. Her thoughts were racing and colliding into each other. “It’s highly likely—”
“I didn’t say that,” Michael said. He shook his head and raised both hands.
“I know.” She ignored his exasperated gaze. “But I can tell by the light in your eyes.”
Michael’s lips twitched, and she sensed the smile he repressed.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “But I photographed geese. They were close-ups too, because I wanted to capture the water droplets as the birds hit the surface of the sea.” A few seconds elapsed, and then she sat up taller as the realization hit home, and her heart did a leap. “At least, geese are what I shot on the stolen camera, on the Leica…”
“What are you saying?” Michael leaned across the table, his fingertips brushing hers.
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and her breath came faster. She leaned forward and grabbed Michael’s hands with both of hers, but had to pull in a quick breath or two before she could find her voice. “My digital,” she said. “Before shooting the bird photos, I had started to feel a bit emotional about…well, about Grandpa Henry.”
He nodded and squeezed her hands. “Go on.”
She could see the confusion flooding his face, and then she looked down at where she gripped his hands, and slowly withdrew hers. She cleared her throat. “I thought about how everything around the sea is dilapidated…I took a few shots with my small digital.”
“Which is where?”
“I put it in my windbreaker pocket. Oh, hell, I left it in the truck.”
“Let’s go.” Michael jumped up, and then signaled the waitress. He peeled off way too many bills from a wad he took out of his wallet, scooped up Ralph, took her by the elbow, and propelled her toward the sliding door. Her heart pounded, but this time with excitement instead of fear. Finally she felt closer to discovering what had happened to Grandpa than ever before. He is alive . She felt it in every cell in her body.
“Gotta run,” Michael said to the waitress, and handed her the cash.
The waitress’s eyes strayed to the gun in his holster.
“Great breakfast. We’ll be back again.”
The woman nodded, grinned at Rachel and pocketed the tip. They wove through the small crowd of customers still waiting for an indoor booth to open up,
Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman