CHAPTER 63 - Bend, Oregon Friday, August 2, 2024

CHAPTER 63

Bend, Oregon Friday, August 2, 2024

THE DARKROOM GLOWED AN EERIE CRIMSON AS SLOAN AND NORA stared at the photo of Ellis.

“What was Ellis doing at Annabelle’s house that day?” Nora asked.

The question came in a whisper and Sloan got the impression she was asking herself.

“Let’s see what else is on the roll of film,” Sloan said.

Nora looked at her and nodded. She hurried to feed the film into the enlarger and worked to see a preview of the negatives.

“The next several are blurred,” Nora said.

“What’s on them?”

Nora shook her head as she tried to decipher the images. “They’re too blurry to make anything out.”

She kept feeding the film through the enlarger.

“Here,” she said, squinting at the tiny image and trying to make sense of it. “It’s . . . two people. Let’s develop this one.”

They ran through the process again, exposing the image onto the photo paper in the easel, and then transferring it to each of the three trays of chemicals—the developing solution first, then the stop bath, and finally the fixer. Nora started the timer and after the paper was in the last tray of liquid for a minute, she lifted it out with tongs and clipped it to the drying rack. Sloan squinted through the darkness to make out the image that was slowly evolving.

“Here it comes.”

In the photo were two people facing each other. Their shapes sluggishly took form.

“It’s Annabelle,” Sloan said. “But . . . how?”

Nora moved closer to the photos and waited another few seconds until the image took hold.

“That’s . . .” She paused, as though allowing the print to come into fuller form, to make sure she was correct.

“Tilly,” Nora finally said. “That’s Tilly standing with Annabelle in the kitchen.”

After another few seconds the colors came through, and a clear image formed. Sloan saw Annabelle and young Tilly Margolis standing in front of the kitchen counter.

Sloan looked at Nora. “All the pictures we’ve developed to this point were taken by Annabelle.”

“Yeah?” Nora asked, not understanding.

Sloan pointed at the photo. “So, there’s Annabelle in the photo. Who the hell’s taking this picture?”