“Like what’s happening now,” I said. Riley nodded. “And people think Terry Lawrence was actually capable of all that? That he could curse something?”

“I know it’s weird,” Riley said. “No one believed him at first, of course. But after all that…”

“Didn’t people think that Terry did all those things? To make it seem like the curse was real?” George asked.

“Some people did, but the police were never able to confirm it,” Riley explained. “He always had airtight alibis.”

“So what about now? Would Terry Lawrence have anything to do with this?” asked Bess.

“Yeah,” said George. “He could be trying to sabotage this exhibit, right?”

“Oh,” said Riley. “No. Terry Lawrence died years ago. Years before Christopher DeSantos, even.”

George slumped back in her seat. “So that’s a dead end,” she said.

“Can you think of anyone still living who might want to sabotage the exhibit?” I asked.

“And who would be willing to kidnap people in order to do it,” added Bess.

Riley’s eyes went wide and she said, “Actually, yes. And she even lives in town.”

“Who?” Bess, George, and I all asked at once.

At first Riley looked a little nervous about what she was going to say. But eventually she grinned conspiratorially and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Beverly DeSantos had something to do with it. Christopher DeSantos’s granddaughter.”

“Beverly DeSantos?” I asked. “Isn’t she the one who found and donated all the photographs to the museum in the first place?”

“Well, yeah,” said Riley. “But it’s pretty well known that she never liked her grandfather. She even once said in an interview that she wished she had been born into a different family. It’s very possible that she still holds a grudge against him. In the interview, Beverly said—”

Just then Riley stopped talking. All the color drained from her face, and I saw that she was looking at something behind Bess and George.

I looked up. There had been a woman in the booth in front of us, but we were only able to see the back of her head. Now she was suddenly standing and looking right at us. Her long dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her dense eyebrows were drawn together, like she was thinking hard about something. She had a thick curtain of bangs, and I couldn’t help but feel like the rest of her face was hiding behind them. Her eyes were light in color, and they looked vaguely familiar.

“Riley?” Bess asked.

Riley just shook her head and wouldn’t say anything else. I didn’t actually know what Beverly DeSantos looked like, but I was willing to guess she was the woman standing right in front of us. And she had been close to enough to hear our entire conversation.

CHAPTER THREE The Hidden Doorway

BEVERLY DESANTOS DID NOT STAY or attempt to confront us. There was a long pause as she continued to look in our direction. Then she turned around and headed outside, the door sweeping in a gust of cold wind behind her.