Hidden Pictures

by Carolyn Keene

  I leaned back into the soft sofa. None of this was as clear a lead as I was hoping for. Bess, George, and I all went quiet for a few moments. George started typing away on her laptop again, brow scrunched as she sorted through information. Bess and I went back to our pastries and coffee, both of us trying to work through the mystery.

  After a while, I noticed that someone was talking fairly loudly on the other side of the coffee shop. I sat up and looked behind me. There was a small crowd of people gathered on that side of the shop. Some of the people were sitting and some were standing. They were all looking toward someone in the middle of the group, and when the crowd shifted, I could see who was in the middle of it all: Emily.

  “What’s wrong, Nancy?” asked Bess, who must have noticed me changing my position to see what was going on.

  “One second,” I whispered back. I wanted to hear what Emily was saying, and I didn’t want her to see or hear us just yet.

  It was difficult to fully understand her, but it sounded as though Emily was retelling the story of Jacob’s disappearance. I heard her once more insist that the photographs in the exhibit were cursed. I watched the expressions of the people in the crowd. Some of them seemed skeptical, but others were nodding along with everything Emily said.

  “We should all call the police,” Emily said. “We should demand that they shut down the museum now, before anyone else goes missing.”

  This idea was met with mixed replies. Some of the crowd seemed to agree with her, but others were shaking their heads. If the town really was benefitting from all the increased tourism, I knew Emily was going to have a difficult time convincing everyone that the museum should close.

  I turned back to Bess and gestured in the direction of the crowd. “That’s Emily,” I said. “The girl Riley, George, and I talked to yesterday.”

  Bess peered over the edge of the couch. “If I didn’t know any better,” she said, “I’d say she was enjoying telling her story.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I said. I still wasn’t sure what to make of Emily, but there was definitely some piece of information about her that I was missing. I decided to try and interview her again later in the day to see what I could learn.

  Just then Bess reached down for her phone. “It’s Lucas,” she said, while clearly reading a text. “Do you mind if I invite him over here for breakfast?”

  “I don’t know, Bess,” I said. Really, I wanted to keep discussing the case, and I wasn’t sure that was going to be possible with someone else around. “Do you think we can trust him with all this information?”

  “Nancy,” said Bess, “Lucas is just a student! He isn’t even from around here. Besides, he might be able to give us some insight on this case. I’m sure he knows more about Christopher DeSantos and Terry Lawrence than we’ll be able to find on our own.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said. Telling Riley about the case had turned out to be the best move we’d made. Why not bring some more expertise in? “All right, invite him. Let’s just all be careful with what we say.”

  Bess nodded and quickly texted Lucas back. George gave me a thumbs-up over her computer screen, confirming that she knew to speak carefully while Lucas was around. After only a few minutes, Lucas entered the coffee shop. He was wearing nearly the same thing as yesterday, which was his leather jacket and jeans and his shark-tooth necklace. Once he spotted us, he waved and headed over in our direction.

  “Have you guys been listening to that?” he said as he sat down. He gestured over to where Emily was telling her story.

  “Nancy was,” said Bess. “She thinks something suspicious is going on.”

  “Bess,” I said. That was exactly the kind of information I was nervous about sharing with Lucas.

  “Really?” said Lucas. “So you are here to try and solve the case of the missing people, then.”

  Bess and I quickly looked at Lucas. Even George looked up from behind her computer screen. I turned to Bess, thinking she must have mentioned something to Lucas about me being an amateur detective.

  Bess understood what I was thinking almost immediately. She said, “I didn’t say anything, Nancy. Really.”

  “She didn’t,” said Lucas. “Actually…” He paused here and looked like he was possibly embarrassed, or maybe just nervous. “I’ve heard about you before. You’re Nancy Drew, right? I’ve read about some of the mysteries you’ve solved. You’re pretty impressive.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Thank you.” I was completely surprised that Lucas had heard of me before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit flattered, too. I looked at Bess and she was beaming at me. She was clearly pleased that Lucas was making such a good impression.

  Bess, Lucas, and I continued talking a little more about Emily’s story and, eventually, about Lucas’s studies as well. I was trying to keep my guard up, but it appeared that Bess was right about Lucas. He did seem very nice.

  Finally George announced that she’d found Beverly DeSantos’s interview. “Should I give you the highlights?” she asked.

  I nodded enthusiastically. “Just keep your voice down,” I said.

  George began skimming through the interview and gave the rest of us a summary. Mainly it said that Beverly didn’t enjoy growing up in the public eye. “According to the article,” said George, “Beverly said that she really didn’t like how many photographs of her as a child ended up being sold to complete strangers who just wanted to own an original DeSantos. Some of them even ended up in magazines, or published in other places. She did say that she wished she had been born into another family. The writer of the article wrote that Beverly looked sullen as she said this, bordering on angry.”

  “I don’t know, Nancy,” said Bess. “That doesn’t sound very good.”

  “Yeah,” said George. “If we’re looking for a motive, this could definitely be it.”

  “Maybe,” I said. There was something about it that didn’t sit right with me, and I couldn’t help but think that there was certainly a difference between hating your grandfather and not wanting to be famous.

  “What do you think, Lucas?” asked Bess, turning toward him.

  “Oh,” said Lucas. He was shifting in his seat. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m not a detective.”

  “But you have to admit it’s not a positive portrayal,” said George.

  “Well,” said Lucas. “Yes, I can admit that. And I do know that when it came out, it made a lot of DeSantos fans pretty mad. I’m not sure his strongest supporters ever got over it. Some of them can get pretty fanatical about this stuff.”

  I thought about this for a moment. Lucas was making a good point. What if a DeSantos fan was doing all this to frame Beverly, to get back at her for her negative interview? It was certainly possible and seemed just as likely as Beverly herself being a suspect.

  Regardless, I still didn’t have enough information. “I think we need to change direction,” I said. “There are other questions we can answer. Like, how are those missing people showing up in DeSantos’s photographs at all? And where are Grace and Jacob now?”

  Lucas shook his head. He said, “I’ve been here since the exhibit opened. When Grace disappeared, no one saw her leave the museum. It was like she just vanished. And the same thing with Jacob. Not one person saw him leave the building.”

  “Well,” I said, “just because no one saw them leave the museum doesn’t mean they vanished. Or… maybe they didn’t leave at all.”

  Lucas was clearly confused by this, but after a moment Bess and George seemed to know what I meant.

  “Oh!” said Bess. “That door behind the bookshelf!”

  “You think they’ve been trapped back there?” asked George.

  “I think it’s possible,” I said. I turned to Lucas and quickly told him the story of my run-in with Beverly DeSantos and Susan in the museum’s staff hallway. “The museum looks so large from the outside,” I said, “but the exhibit space is relatively small. There has to be more than enough s
pace to keep two people hidden back there. I want to try and get through that door again. Maybe I can figure out the combination for the keypad over the door handle, or maybe the combination is written down somewhere, in one of the offices in that hallway. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of Christopher DeSantos and his relationship with Terry Lawrence, or his relationship to his granddaughter. But that doorway has to be something.”

  Bess and George both nodded at me. “So back to the museum?” asked George. She began typing faster as she spoke, and I knew she was trying to get in as much Wi-Fi time as possible.

  “Back to the museum,” I confirmed.

  “Lucas,” said Bess, “do you want to come with us?”

  “Um.” Lucas paused. “Actually, I just remembered I already made plans with a friend. Maybe I’ll see you guys later. Bye, Bess.”

  Lucas quickly stood, threw his leather jacket back on, and headed toward the door. I looked at Bess, and she seemed a little surprised by his sudden departure. I couldn’t say I felt the same way, though. I couldn’t help but wonder if inviting someone to sneak around the restricted section of a museum was just too much for a new friendship.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Warning

  BESS, GEORGE, AND I BEGAN walking in the direction of the museum. It was another day of confusing weather in Shady Oaks. One minute it was overcast and on the verge of pouring down rain. The next minute the sun was peeking through the clouds and catching on all the fall leaves and it was nearly a warm day. I kept my red raincoat on just in case. Underneath my raincoat, however, all I needed was a long-sleeved T-shirt to feel perfectly comfortable.

  Just like yesterday, the museum seemed to be filled with people. Even as we stood outside and watched how many people walked in and out the front door, I could tell it was going to be difficult to sneak around unnoticed.

  As the three of us began walking up the museum’s front steps, I leaned in close to Bess and George. “It’ll be easier for just one of us to get into that hallway than all of us,” I said. “I think I’ll need you both to create a distraction. And I’ll try to get through the STAFF ONLY door while everyone is looking at the two of you. Is that all right?”

  “Sure,” said Bess. “But what kind of distraction?”

  I thought about this as we walked into the exhibit room, but as it turned out, I wouldn’t need a distraction at all. Everyone inside was gathered around one photograph on the far side of the space. They were all pushing against one another, and no one was looking in the direction of the staff hallway at all.

  “Actually,” I said, “that’ll work. I’ll be right back. You guys check out what everyone is looking at. I hope it’s not another missing person.”

  Bess and George nodded at me and then began to walk over to where everyone else was standing. I hung back and made my way slowly toward the STAFF ONLY door. Doing my best to look unsuspicious, I leaned against the wall next to the restricted door. When I was certain no one was looking, I opened the door just a crack and slipped inside.

  The hallway looked just the same as I remembered it. There was still all the clutter and the dust, and as soon as I stepped inside, I sneezed twice in quick succession.

  First I wanted to check the door behind the bookcase and make sure it was still locked. I walked as fast as I could manage while still being as quiet as possible. It took me only a few light steps, walking on the balls of my feet, to reach the end of the hallway and slip behind the large bookcase. I reached my arm out toward the door handle and gave it a tug downward. Still locked. Above the door’s keypad there were four small lights. They weren’t on now, but I was willing to bet this meant the combination would be four numbers long. I just had to figure out what they were.

  I stepped out from behind the shelf and dusted myself off. I remembered seeing two offices in this hallway. I thought that maybe one of them had the code for the door written down somewhere.

  In the first office there was a desk, but otherwise the room was mainly empty. I walked around anyway, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. There were frames that looked similar to those out in the hallway, and leaning against one of the walls was a collection of large signs. But there really wasn’t anything that made me think this room was still being used as an active office space. I walked back over to the door and took one last look before moving on.

  The second office was a bit larger, and slightly less cluttered than everywhere else. There was a name tag on the desk that read SUSAN MILLER, and behind that was a large pile of paperwork and mail. I began shuffling through it all, and found that Susan had a number of unpaid bills and overdue payment notices. She clearly had not been lying about the museum not doing very well.

  Unlike the rest of the room, Susan’s desk was pretty well organized, so I was able to search through everything fairly quickly. I opened one of her drawers to find an old card she’d received, the lease for the museum, and letters from a few more companies the museum owed money to. I got out my phone and took photographs of them all, in case they might be useful in the future.

  I’d already been back here for a while, and I knew that the longer I stayed, the more likely it would become that I would get caught. Reluctantly, I gave up the search and crept back over to the bookcase.

  If Susan had chosen a random set of numbers to be her combination, then I had no hope of figuring it out. But most people don’t use random numbers. I had a few ideas for what the combination could be. First I tried the museum’s address, which I had just found written down in Susan’s office. It didn’t work. I tried the year the museum had opened, and the last four digits of the museum’s phone number. Frustratingly, the door remained locked. Whatever Susan had chosen as her combination, it wasn’t written down in her office.

  As a last resort, I tried just knocking on the door. If Grace and Jacob were trapped back there, maybe they would hear my knock and know that someone was searching for them. After knocking a few times, I pressed my ear to the door and listened. It was completely silent.

  I let out a deep breath. I had been so certain that I’d be able to get through this door, and if I couldn’t find a way inside, I really wasn’t sure what to do next. I decided to check Susan’s office one last time and was just about to walk back out from behind the bookcase when I heard a voice say, “Now, really.”

  I stopped moving. Whoever was in the hallway couldn’t see me yet, but I must have been making a great deal of noise as I typed codes into the door’s keypad and tried to force the door open again and again. Not to mention the knocking.

  “Yes, I heard you,” said the voice. “You can come out now.”

  I could recognize the voice now. It was clearly Susan’s wheezing, nervous way of speaking. Reluctantly, I made my way out from behind the bookcase and turned to see her standing in the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest.

  Right as I stepped out, I noticed that Susan had been watching the bookcase with her eyes narrowed and her expression stern. But as soon as she saw that it was me, her expression turned to one of complete shock.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of the way Susan was looking at me. All I knew was that I desperately wanted to get behind that door.

  “Oh, you’re here?” Susan asked me. I thought it was a strange way to phrase that question. Even more strange, however, was the way Susan was looking at me. She was staring at me like she was perhaps a bit frightened. I nearly questioned her about this, but instead I decided that getting behind that door had to be my first priority.

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be back here. But I really need you to open this door. I think the missing people from the photographs, Grace and Jacob, are trapped in whatever space is back there.”

  I knew it was a long shot that Susan would believe me. I also knew it was even possible that Susan knew the missing people might be back there, but things were going so well for her business she just didn’t want to look into it. I didn’t have a better idea, though, and I knew
I had to try something.

  Susan took a moment to respond. She still looked surprised to see me back here. But then she seemed to come back to her senses and to fully process what I had just said.

  Looking a bit frustrated with me, she said, “There is no one trapped back there. It’s just a closed-off wing of the museum! And it’s only closed because we don’t have the funds to keep such a large space running. What kind of an article are you writing?”

  I ignored Susan’s question. “But isn’t it possible that someone could have gotten back there when you weren’t watching?” I asked. “You’re the only one running this entire museum. You must be very busy.”

  “No,” said Susan. She seemed very certain about this. “That door is always locked and no one has access. And look.” She pointed up at the ceiling. In the corner of the hallway was a small video camera with a blinking red light. “We have a security camera here and three in the exhibit space. I would have seen if anyone was sneaking around. And before you ask: No, you can’t see the video camera’s footage. The police have already viewed it and they didn’t find anything. You can’t think you’d do better than the police.”

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the video camera. Arguing with her about seeing the footage seemed futile. But there was something else Susan had said that didn’t sit right with me.

  “There really isn’t anyone who has access?” I asked her. “I mean, obviously you must.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I do. It’s the same combination as the front door to the museum, so my employees and I all know the code. Well, employee. Grace was my only one. And, well…” Susan paused here and seemed reluctant to keep speaking. “Beverly DeSantos has access too.”

  I could feel my blood run cold. “Beverly DeSantos has access to this door? Why?”