The Photograph That Should Have Been Destroyed
Chapter 06 - The Photograph That Should Have Been Destroyed
Eleanor arrived with an old photograph sealed inside a plastic sleeve.
The image was grainy and dark.
Rain streaked the driveway of the Whitmore estate.
A black sedan waited beneath the entrance canopy.
Two men stood beside it.
Between them was a woman wearing a pale coat.
Her face was partially turned away.
But I recognized her hair.
Her posture.
The shape of her face.
Catherine.
My mother.
Alive after the fire.
Charles stood beside the open rear door.
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
"Where did you find this?"
Eleanor sat across from me.
"An old security employee contacted me after hearing about you."
"Why didn't he come forward sixteen years ago?"
"He said he'd been threatened. He kept copies of several photographs but never knew what happened to Catherine."
Rebecca examined the image.
"We'll need the original file or negative and information about its source."
Eleanor nodded.
"I know."
I pointed to the man standing near the driver's door.
"Who is he?"
She leaned closer.
"I don't know."
He was broad-shouldered, with thinning hair and a dark coat.
Something about him seemed familiar.
I couldn't place it.
Then Mia entered the room.
She looked at the photograph.
And froze.
"Noah."
I turned.
"What?"
She pointed at the man.
"I know him."
Eleanor stared at her.
"How?"
Mia swallowed.
"He came to Dad's funeral."
My chest tightened.
"Who?"
"His name was Leonard Shaw."
The name meant nothing to me.
Mia continued.
"He said he'd worked with Dad years ago."
I remembered a quiet older man standing near the back of the funeral chapel.
He'd offered condolences.
Then disappeared before the reception.
"Do you know where he lives?" I asked.
Mia shook her head.
"But Dad kept his phone number in an old address book."
We found the address book that evening.
Leonard Shaw was listed beneath the letter S.
Next to his name was a number and an address in southern Wisconsin.
Rebecca arranged for a licensed investigator to check the information before anyone approached him.
Two days later, she called.
"Leonard Shaw is alive."
I sat upright.
"Where?"
"A small town near Madison."
"Does he know we're looking for him?"
"Not yet."
I looked toward Eleanor.
"Then let's find him."
Leonard lived in a modest brick house near a wooded road.
He answered the door himself.
When he saw me, his expression changed.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he whispered, "Thomas's boy."
I stared at him.
"You knew my father?"
Leonard lowered his eyes.
"Which one?"
The question hit me harder than anything else he could have said.
Rebecca stepped forward and introduced herself.
Leonard looked toward the road.
Then opened the door.
"Come inside."
His living room smelled of coffee and old books.
He sat across from us, rubbing his hands.
"I wondered when this day would come."
I placed the photograph on the table.
Leonard looked at it.
His face drained of color.
"Where did you get that?"
"Who took my mother away?"
He closed his eyes.
"Son, there are things you're better off not knowing."
I leaned forward.
"I spent sixteen years without knowing my own name. Don't tell me what I'm better off knowing."
Leonard looked at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"You're right."
He pointed to the photograph.
"I was the driver."
My heart pounded.
"Where did you take her?"
He swallowed.
"To a private medical facility outside Milwaukee."
Eleanor gasped.
"What facility?"
Leonard hesitated.
"It changed names several times."
Rebecca opened her notebook.
"Do you remember an address?"
He nodded slowly.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
"I thought she was sick."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Charles told me Catherine had become unstable after the fire. He said she was a danger to herself."
My hands clenched.
"Did she look unstable?"
Leonard shook his head.
"No."
"What did she look like?"
He stared at the photograph.
"Terrified."
I swallowed.
"Did she ask about me?"
Leonard began crying.
"Every mile."
I couldn't breathe.
"She kept asking where Julian was. She said someone had taken her son."
I looked down.
Leonard continued.
"And when we arrived, she begged me not to leave her."
My vision blurred.
"Why did you?"
He covered his face.
"Because I was afraid of Charles."
The room went silent.
Then Eleanor asked, "Did you ever see Catherine again?"
Leonard lowered his hands.
"Once."
"When?"
"About six years ago."
I stared at him.
"What happened?"
He looked directly at me.
May you like
"She was still alive."
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