I made my way over to the second photograph, the one of the crying girl’s boyfriend, by cutting through the crowds once more. The photograph looked nearly the same as the one of Grace. I couldn’t see any flaw in the image; it really did look like he was walking through the background. And like the photograph of Grace, there was a lock on the side of the frame, protected by a combination. A quick glance around was all I needed to confirm that the other photographs in the exhibit were similarly protected by locking frames.

After I felt satisfied with my investigation, I made my way back to where I had left Bess and George. It wasn’t easy, even though I was now trying to move farther away from the photographs instead of closer to them. Everyone in the crowd seemed just as unwilling to let me through.

I couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes, but by the time I got back to where Bess and George had been, they were gone. I quickly looked around. I didn’t recognize anyone. There were a few children running around, boys who must have been around five or six and who were playing tag. There was an older couple, sitting on one of the benches and leaning against each other. There were a lot of people with cameras like Riley’s. I assumed they were all fans who had traveled to Shady Oaks to see this exhibit. But I didn’t see Bess or George anywhere, and for a moment I panicked and wondered if they had been trapped inside the photographs as well. I quickly pulled myself together. Of course that was impossible. People do not get trapped in photographs, and I would just have to look around in order to find my friends.

I stuck to the outer edges of the room, especially the places where there were no photographs, as these were the least populated areas. If Bess and George were still here, I knew they would have kept to these places, anywhere where there weren’t too many people.

I wasn’t having much luck. Bess and George must have left the museum altogether. I was about to go outside when I realized something else interesting. From the outside, the museum had looked gigantic. It was easily the largest building on the block, much taller and wider than the small stores surrounding it. But the room set aside for the exhibit was incredibly small. There didn’t seem to be any way to reach the other sections of the museum, or signs for any other exhibits.

I could only see one door besides the one at the room’s entrance. It was marked STAFF ONLY.

I looked around. No one was paying much attention to me. Everyone was too distracted by the DeSantos photographs, both the impossible ones and the ordinary ones that had not been tampered with, which were distracting enough in their own right. I made my way over and snuck through the door.