of the photograph.
“Why would Claire keep this?”
“Because it mattered to her.”
“Then why did she let my mother disappear?”
Daniel had no answer.
A corridor stretched beyond the lobby. The doors were marked with small brass numbers.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen.
My footsteps slowed as we approached sixteen.
At the end of the hall stood room seventeen.
The lock was old and tarnished.
I took out the key.
Daniel remained behind me.
“If you want me to leave—”
“Stay.”
The key entered the lock smoothly.
For a moment, it
