Something that Stevie said made Janelle lift her chin in interest. She turned on her heel and walked into the room in the back. Stevie could hear her shifting boxes along the concrete floor. She emerged a minute later holding one, which she set on one of the tables.

“This one has loads of old paperwork in it,” she said, removing the lid and pulling out handfuls of loose, dog-eared paper in a variety of colors and conditions. “Just order forms and things like that, but I feel like I saw . . .”

Janelle shuffled through the box until she found what she was looking for and passed it to Stevie. It was an old pink piece of paper.

“It caught my eye because of the name,” she said. “But I put it back because it’s nothing.”

Stevie took the paper and examined it.

EXTRA SUPPLY ORDER FORM

REQUESTSED BY SABRINA ABBOTT

JUNE 20, 1978

Paints: waterculors, acycilcs ($60)

Pencils and brshes: ($50)

Ceramics: ring boxes, earring stands, cats, dogs, cookie jars; trash cann, turtle, teddy bear, roller skate ($ 28)

String: leather, cloth ($18)

TOTAL: $156

“So much crafting, so cheap,” Janelle said wistfully. “I mean, adjusted for inflation it’s more, but I want to imagine it is this cheap for a second.”

Stevie examined the piece of paper in her hand. It was nothing special—a faded old supply list from a box of useless paperwork.

“How did they do anything with typewriters?” Janelle went on. “When they made a mistake, it was like, I guess that’s just how it’s going to be. Everything must have taken forever. Anyway, do you think Allison would want it?”

“Yeah,” Stevie said. “I do.”

“What about our problem?” Janelle said. “Any brain waves on that?”

“No.” Stevie shook her head. “But whoever it was has been leaving our cabin alone, which is good.”

Leaving our cabin alone . . .

The cabins were empty right now. Everyone was out. Stevie took out her phone and pulled up the digital files that Carson had sent to her.

“Map of the camp in 1978,” she said. “It’s in here somewhere.”

She flicked through the folders and documents before finding what she wanted.

“Carson, you magnificent weirdo,” she said. “You scanned everything. Where’s the camp map, map, map . . .”

They had been given printed copies the day before in their welcome bags. She had folded hers up and shoved it in her bag. She pulled it out and compared the two.

“Sabrina was in the Sparrow bunk,” Stevie said, glancing between the documents. “Sparrow bunk was . . . fourteen. What is it now? Here . . . Pandas.”

If there was ever a good time to have a look in another bunk, this was probably it. She knew where all the counselors were, and there were no kids around yet. Everything was quiet.

“I’ll meet you over at lunch,” she said to Janelle.