Hidden Pictures

Dear Diary,

YOU WOULD THINK A TOWN as small as Shady Oaks wouldn’t have too much going on. At least that’s what I thought, before I was sent a mysterious newspaper clipping about the town museum’s newest exhibit. Apparently, one of the museum’s employees has gone missing, only to show up in one of the photographs on display!

Now I have to know: Who sent me this article and why? Is someone tampering with the exhibit? Or is the explanation a bit more supernatural? According to the article, the photographs are rumored to be cursed. But I’m sure I don’t believe in curses….

CHAPTER ONE It’s Raining Suspicion

“HEY, NANCY!” BESS CALLED TO me from across the street. “This is him, right? The photographer?”

George and I made our way over to where Bess was standing. She was looking in the front window of an arts and crafts store, where there was a printout of a large black-and-white photograph. The photo was of a serious-looking man with heavy wrinkles, dark hair, and wide, light gray eyes. Or at least they looked gray, since the photograph had no color.

“Right,” I said. “That’s Christopher DeSantos.”

We were in the town of Shady Oaks, a drive of several hours from River Heights. It was fall and there were trees everywhere, shading the town with red, orange, and yellow leaves that were covering everything like one large umbrella. Lining the main street were lampposts, and each of them was draped with a banner for the Carlisle Museum and the new exhibit featuring pictures of Shady Oaks by the world-famous photographer Christopher DeSantos. DeSantos had grown up in town and spent his teenage years taking pictures. None of these photographs had ever been seen before. They had all been donated only recently by DeSantos’s granddaughter, who had lived here with her grandfather after his retirement. She had moved to Shady Oaks when she was only a child, over twenty years ago, but she had apparently never left.

“He looks…,” began George, before eventually finding the right word. “Intimidating.”

“It’s probably just the photograph,” said Bess. “If the lighting were different and if he was smiling, he wouldn’t look so…”

“Frightening?” George tried again.

“Well, yes,” said Bess.

Bess and George were my best friends, but they couldn’t be more different. That much was clear just by looking at them. It was raining lightly in Shady Oaks and Bess had brought along a pair of polka-dotted rain boots, pulled up carefully over her jeans, and a matching polka-dotted umbrella. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears and protected entirely from the rain. George, on the other hand, had thrown on an oversize green parka. She had pulled the hood down low over her forehead, but tufts of her dark hair still peeked out from underneath it and were slowly soaking up rainwater.