CHAPTER 5: WHAT THE CAMERA DIDN’T SHOW
Ortiz returned after her shift to look at the folder.
She did not treat the pictures as proof of wrongdoing.
She asked when they were taken, where the cabin stood, and whether my father had recorded the names of everyone present.
I could answer none of those questions.
The back of one photograph carried a date in black ink.
It was November 6, the day before Laurel disappeared.
Patricia’s hand rested on Laurel’s shoulder, and both women looked directly into the camera.
The image seemed ordinary until I noticed Laurel’s other hand.
She was gripping the wrist of a little boy who stood partially outside the frame.
Only his striped sleeve and the top of his head were visible.
“Who was that?” Ortiz asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Your sister ever babysit?”
“Sometimes.”
Ortiz made a note and asked permission to copy the material.
I agreed.
She also photographed the sealed letter to Claire without opening it.
“That letter is yours to decide about unless a court says otherwise,” she explained.
“But if you think Claire is connected to your sister, I would start by finding her.”
I looked at the return addresses on the money orders.
Several had been purchased from different towns.
The payee line on each had been left blank in the copies.
Someone had deliberately concealed the recipient.
Ortiz warned me not to confront Patricia with the photographs.
“She already damaged property once,” Ortiz said.
“We don’t know what she is afraid of.”
She left after sunset.
At nine that night, a man I had never met knocked on my door.
He looked about sixty and wore a raincoat despite the warm weather.
“I’m Martin Voss,” he said.
“Patricia’s husband.”
I knew she had been widowed, so I told him he had the wrong house.
His face tightened.
“She told everyone I was dead,” he said.
“That tells me she’s more frightened than I thought.
”
