“Hey,” I said. “Have you seen my friends Bess and George anywhere? I was supposed to be meeting them.”

Both Susan and Beverly shook their heads. I thanked them anyway and then peeked inside the museum. They weren’t there. Then I looked around the front entryway before heading back outside. They were nowhere to be found. For a moment I became worried that perhaps this whole case wasn’t really over, that now my friends were missing. But then I spotted them just around the corner from the museum, sitting at the park picnic bench where George and I had once spent some time talking.

I began heading in their direction, and Bess waved to me over George’s shoulder. George turned around and waved at me as well.

“Were you just talking to Susan and Beverly?” Bess asked once I was in earshot.

I nodded. I told them what Susan had said, about making the installations permanent. Both Bess and George looked conflicted over the idea that the images of fake missing people—including one of me—would now be hanging in a museum long term.

“That’s… interesting,” said Bess.

“And what about the police station?” asked George. “What did Officer Patty say?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “He still didn’t want to share too much information with me about what would happen to Lucas, Grace, and Jacob. But they have all confessed to faking the curse.”

“What about the defacement of art?” said George. “Isn’t that against the law?”

“Actually,” I said, “Officer Patty did tell me that the photographs are fine. It was like I had guessed: Lucas transferred the images of me, Grace, and Jacob to three pieces of glass, which he then switched with the glass in each of the picture frames. The photographs were never touched.”

Bess looked thoughtful, and then said, “Lucas did love photography. He didn’t lie about studying historical photographs in school. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to ruin a photograph, in the end. Even if it was one taken by his grandfather’s rival.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was another case of Bess attempting to find the best in someone, even when they didn’t deserve it. I decided that perhaps this time I’d try to believe that she was right. “Yeah,” I told her. “Maybe that’s true.”

Eventually the three of us stood and headed back in the direction of the Carlisle Museum. I did want to take one last look at the photographs before we left town.

As we were walking over, I spotted Riley and her red hair glowing in the sunlight. I called out to her and held up her camera so she could see it.

When we were close enough to each other, I handed the camera back over to her. “Thanks for letting me borrow this,” I told her. “It was a huge help. Sorry I’m getting it back to you so late.”

“That’s all right!” said Riley. But I noticed she was holding on to her camera very tightly. She slipped it back over her neck and seemed instantly more comfortable, like it had perhaps been a part of her that was missing.