Free The Photographer by Barbara Steiner Page A

the bathroom for his darkroom. She tried the bathroom door. Locked. Now what? Where would he keep a key? On his key chain, with him? Hidden in his room? Quickly, she searched the tray on his dresser. Some small change, a tie clip. Pulling out each drawer quietly, she shined her light.
    Where would I hide a key, she thought. None of the drawers looked promising, and she felt funny going through piles of Derrick’s neatly stacked underwear and handkerchiefs.
    On one wall was a bookshelf with some books, some knickknacks. Shells from trips, a ship model, old Tonka toys. Megan smiled. Had Derrick really been a normal little boy, playing with trucks and jeeps?
    For a moment she stopped to listen. Mrs. Ames would know Derrick was gone, since his van wasn’t in the drive, so she’d be suspicious if she heard noises from his room. Then, standing on his desk chair, she ran her hands along the top bookshelves. At the very end was a large conch shell. She picked it up and heard a rattle. Holding the light between her knees, she took both hands and turned the shell upside down to let a key slide into her hand. She smiled. It had to be!
    Leaving the chair in place so she could return the key, she ran quickly to the bathroom door. Yes, it fit. Her flashlight showed her dark shades on the only window. She snapped on the room’s light to get her bearings, then flicked it off again. Turning around to the solid wall formed by the partitioned-off bedroom door, she gasped. There, arranged in neat rows, were dozens of photos pinned to the corkboard. All of them were duplicates of the photos she’d held in her hands so recently. But there was one difference. Around each girl’s body was a glow, as if something surrounded or emanated from each person.

Chapter 11
    Megan studied the photos, running her light past row after row. Cynthia at Homecoming, many informal shots at the game and at the dance. Also Cynthia at the hospital with Bunny and Roxie. But there were more. With what had to be a telephoto lens, Derrick had caught Cynthia coming out of her house, in town, at school, informal shots, as if he’d followed her around. Photographs not assigned by either the annual or the newspaper. Photographs he’d taken on his own initiative.
    Quickly, she glanced at the rest of the pictures on the bulletin board and the stack on the table in front of the display. All were of Bunny, Roxie, Candy, Marva, and Lora. All the girls who were ill. In one corner near the bottom of the groupings were four recent snapshots of Derrick’s mother, obviously unposed, probably taken without her knowing. And his mom’s face and body was surrounded by the same glowing light.
    â€œI’ll leave Sunday if I feel better.” Megan remembered Mrs. Ames’s comment to the person on the phone. Feel better? Derrick’s mom wasn’t feeling well? How did she feel? Weak? Or did she have a cold? Maybe her drinking was making her sick.
    There was no real answer here to what was going on. Derrick had taken all these pictures—many more than he needed. And all of his subjects were ill. That was fact. Megan knew it wasn’t coincidence, but this was no real proof. How did the photos work? Why had Derrick done such a thing? Megan had the evidence that told her Derrick was behind this. But absolutely nothing that would stand up if she were to go to the police or even accuse Derrick to his face.
    Megan was used to seeing a camera and photographs side by side, so it took her a moment to register that one of Derrick’s cameras was also in the darkroom. How many cameras did Derrick have? Megan searched her memory. She remembered Robert commenting on Derrick carrying two cameras, but she couldn’t remember if he’d always carried two. Was this.…
    She picked up the camera and examined it, turned it over and over. It looked like a normal camera, except … except.… there was no label on it. What brand was it?