Page 32 of Cold Case Murder Mystery

Right. She nodded and got out of the car, following Thomas up the porch and waiting after he knocked on the door.

The woman who answered carried a tiny baby. She greeted them with a politeness and warmth that was antithetical to the situation. She ushered them into a big, cozy living room. Chloe was already there, sitting next to one of the Hudsons Brooke could remember by name. Jack Hudson was the sheriff of Sunrise, and the de facto leader of his siblings. He’d also been shot twice last month in the situation that had led to the discovery of human remains in the cave, causing her to stick around beyond just identifying the remains of his parents.

It wasn’t obvious he’d been seriously hurt from just looking at him, but Brooke noted a cane in the corner next to the couch he sat on. And the careful way Chloe sat next to him.

“Chloe. Jack,” Thomas greeted. “You remember Brooke Campbell, the forensic anthropologist.”

Another woman entered. She didn’t look like a Hudson, but a lot of significant others lived on the property, so Brooke assumed she was one of them.

“Brooke, this is Dahlia,” Thomas introduced. “She’s a librarian, but she has some archivist training. She’s helping us keep the integrity of the scrapbook intact, like you suggested.”

They exchanged pleasantries then everyone who was still standing sat down around a coffee table where Thomas placed the scrapbook with care. He opened up to a page in the middle. The pages were black, with black-and-white photos pasted in careful rows. He pointed to one such row.

“Doesn’t this look like the preserve?” he asked everyone.

Jack and Chloe leaned forward and peered at the picture while Brooke did the same. She felt like an expert of the area around the cave now, but the photo wasn’t very clear, and the black and white made it difficult to really determine. The picture could have been any rocky area with mountains in the distance.

Thomas slowly turned the page. “And these.”

These pictures had two men in almost all of them. The prints weren’t much clearer than the photo of the preserve, but it was obvious the subjects were in some kind of rock enclosure. It could definitely be a cave—but it could be their cave or any others.

“Aren’t these pictures too old to use flashes or whatever in a dark cave?” Chloe asked. “Those guys look pretty old-timey.”

“Yes, they do, but flash photography is pretty old,” Dahlia replied. “Flashes have been around in some form or another for a long time, and there could have been other light sources involved outside the picture. There are photographs of caves over a hundred years old.”

“Do you know who the subjects are?” Brooke asked. The surroundings didn’t tell them much, but something about the two men drew her attention. She didn’t know enough about historical fashion to know what era they were from, but certainly a long time ago.

“Let’s see if we can remove the photo from the page. There might be a label on the back. Besides, we’ll want to eventually remove all the pictures. The glue and paper used in these old scrapbooks are often harmful to photographs over time.” Dahlia rummaged through her supplies, pulled out what resembled dental floss, and then carefully slid it under the upturned corner of the photo. With a sawing motion, she pulled the floss through until the photo detached from the page.

She lifted the photo to the light, looked at the back. “The writing is faded, but it looks like it says ‘F. Brink and L. Rogers.’”

Everyone turned to Chloe, whose father was a Brink and mother was Jen Rogers, the suspected murderer.

Chloe shook her head. “Far as I know, my grandpa Brink’s name was George. Never met my mom’s father. I always assumed he was dead or a deadbeat. But Rogers certainly explains my mother’s connection to the scrapbook.”

Brooke studied the picture. She didn’t think anyone would assume the background of the black-and-white picture was a cave if they weren’t currently dealing with a cave. But she could see what Thomas was talking about.

Certain formations surrounded the people were similar to the area she had just started excavating. Not irrevocable proof of the same cave, but maybe too much of a coincidence to not be.

“I could look into the family histories. See if these are direct ancestors of yours, Chloe. And if they are, it’d help us date the photograph. If you think it might help the case, Detective Hart.”

Thomas frowned. “Not sure it’ll help, but it can’t hurt.”

“This book adds to the case against Jen,” Jack said. “She was living in that cave. She’s the one who took the scrapbook from the police. Now you’ve found the scrapbook in there and there’s a link to the Rogers family. Maybe it doesn’t tell us anything new, but it can be used in the case against her.”

Thomas nodded in agreement. “But why did she want to steal it then hide it?”

Brooke didn’t have any answer for that question, but she kept studying the picture, trying to orient herself. Because caves changed over time, so it wasn’t the same as now. But the formations were in the same spots, just different sizes.

And if she was seeing things correctly, and not jumping to conclusions, both men were standing next to each other in a corner of the cave she hadn’t yet gotten to but knew made up the edge closest to the center of the cave. She’d purposefully left that spot for last because she’d wanted as much space around the interior studied and opened.

Maybe caves could appear similar, but there were too many coincidences here.

“Do you have a magnifying glass?” she asked absently to no one in particular. Some object at the men’s feet looked like...something.Maybe if she could make it out, she could be sure one way or another.

Dahlia pulled a magnifying glass out of her supplies and handed it to Brooke. Brooke used it to analyze the lower corner of the bottom photograph. As the magnifying glass settled over the corner, the shape of something that looked like... hair and an ear. But the angle was all wrong. It was straight up and down, like it didn’t have a body but had been propped there.

Brooke’s heart started beating hard in her chest. She swallowed so her voice would sound calm. She held out the magnifying glass to Hart. “Is that a head?”

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