after page was now filled with her neat handwriting as she’d meticulously documented everything she’d been told about the Lynches and about the house itself. Every single scrap of information, from Killian and his wife Hope, to Kelley and the eccentric ladies of the historical society.
Half of it was crap of course, in fact probably more than half if she was being totally honest. It was going to take a while to weed through decades of teenage over-imagination and small island gossip.
It was intriguing though, she had to admit, plus it gave her something to occupy her time. After all there wasn’t much she could do while the house was being ripped apart and put back together. She could help carry debris as the house was cleared and she could wield a paintbrush fairly efficiently, but that was the sum total of her manual labor skills.
It was the thrill of uncovering a century old mystery that had her skin tingling and her blood pumping. She glanced across at the photo frame she’d recovered from the house. At that moment it was nestled on a plastic bag to stop any broken glass from falling onto the bed. Sliding it over so it was directly in front of her she picked up the frame, careful to hold it over the plastic. She’d dusted out most of the broken glass and was now able to study it more carefully in the daylight, than she had been within the dim confines of the boarded-up house.
The woman in the picture really did have the tiniest waist, making her chest look oddly puffed out like a hen. Nestled against the dark gown she wore was a small round locket on a long chain, a detail Ava hadn’t noticed the first time. The little boy standing beside the well-dressed woman, wore short pants but his legs were covered with long socks, stockings almost, ending in tightly laced boots. The picture was black and white so it was hard to tell what colors they might have been wearing. The boy had very light hair and pale eyes. Although the woman had darker hair, her eyes looked eerily similar to the child. The man looked like neither of them.
They had to be a family unit Ava guessed. Photography was very expensive back then and certainly not done on a whim. Turning the picture over she studied the back of the frame. It was now nothing more than withered leather and tiny flaps of rusted metal holding the picture in place. Digging her fingernails in Ava managed to scrape the metal leaves aside so the back loosened, and as she removed the brittle leather something fluttered into her lap.
It was a small lock of hair, barely more than one tiny blonde curl, tied with a faded, musty blue ribbon. She pulled the photograph from the frame, staring at the back of it. Printed in a neat typeset were the words LHJ Linden Photographic Studio. Her gaze wandered further down the yellowed paper to a looping scrawl in faded black ink which read, My darling Peter…
Ava picked up the lock of hair, holding it gently in her fingertips as she turned the photo back over and stared at the three faces.
‘So, which one’s Peter?’ she mused out loud.
It had to be the kid, she concluded. If the lock of hair belonged to someone in the picture, the young boy was the only one with fair hair.
‘Who are you?’ Ava whispered curiously.
She looked up sharply as Bailey suddenly sprang up from the bed and darted toward the door, barking loudly. Tucking both the picture and the lock of hair in her notebook, she shut it carefully and secured it with an elastic band before shoving the remnants of the damaged frame into the plastic bag to dispose of later.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she padded to the door on bare feet and swung it open. Before she could stop her Bailey leapt out, barking playfully as she dashed off.
Unable to see what had her dog so worked up Ava climbed absently down the steps from the RV while she stared across to where Bailey had disappeared around the corner of the house.
‘BAILEY!’ she called out, but as her foot hit the dry grassy ground she cried out at a sudden sharp stab of pain in her foot.
She sat down heavily on the steps and lifted her injured foot, propping it on her other knee so she could inspect