A Long Time Gone

CHAPTER 50 - Cedar Creek, Nevada Thursday, August 1, 2024

CHAPTER 50

Cedar Creek, Nevada Thursday, August 1, 2024

SLOAN AND NORA TOOK TURNS CHECKING THE STREET FOR NEWS CREWS. They made it through the second box of photos and found, toward the bottom, an envelope of pictures dated July 4, 1995—the day Annabelle Margolis disappeared with her husband and two-month-old daughter. The day, Sloan knew from the case file, that a large amount of Annabelle’s blood had been cleaned up from the kitchen floor.

“Here,” Nora said. “These are from July Fourth.”

Nora quickly paged through the photos.

“Yeah. I remember developing these. I didn’t do it myself. I brought the film to the drugstore to be developed. The rolls of film were among Annabelle and Preston’s belongings when we eventually cleared out the house weeks after they . . . and you, went missing.”

She handed the photos to Sloan.

“Who’s looked at these?” Sloan asked.

“I have, but years and years ago. And the detectives investigating the case wanted to see them. But they never found anything interesting. They gave them back to me, and they’ve been sitting in my attic ever since. Until Ellis pulled them out for me the other day.”

Sloan and Nora removed the pictures—dozens of glossy 4x6s—and spread them across the table. Sloan’s fingers tingled with anticipation as she arranged the photos. They revealed the story of her and her birth parents’ last day in Cedar Creek, told through the lens of Annabelle’s camera. The images began in the morning, with beautiful shots of the sunrise off the back deck of Preston and Annabelle’s new home. Then, the photos proceeded to the Split the Creek Gala in town, where the Fourth of July celebration had taken place.

“Here’s you in your stroller,” Nora said, passing Sloan a photo of baby Charlotte tucked into a stroller and protected from the sun by the overhanging visor. “You were so dang cute!”

There were several photos of baby Charlotte alone, and a few with her in Preston’s arms.

“All of these were taken on the Nikon FM10 I gifted Annabelle that summer,” Nora said. “She carried that camera everywhere. Kept it hanging around her neck and shot anything that looked photogenic.”

Nora removed the last photo from the envelope.

“God she was good,” Nora said. “Look how she framed this photo of you.”

Nora held up a photo of baby Charlotte lying on a red-white-and-blue blanket positioned on the lawn next to the creek, blurred images of sailboats drifting past in the background.

Sloan took the photo and examined it. The date was stamped in red at the bottom of the photo.

“The Split the Creek Gala for the Fourth,” Sloan said. “Is that still a thing around here?”

“Oh, sure. It’s been going on as long as I can remember. This past July was the biggest turnout in Cedar Creek history.”

“So it’s an all-day thing?”

“Yes. Starts in the morning and runs straight through until sunset. A huge fireworks show wraps things up at night.”

Sloan held up the photo of herself on the blanket. “So this is sometime in the late morning or early afternoon, based on the sunlight. And this is the last photo in the bunch. Are there more from that day? It’s the day we all disappeared. It’s worth looking at what Annabelle’s last photos were. Unless this is it, and then it doesn’t tell us much.”

Nora shook her head. “These photos were from the last roll of film we found. We didn’t find any other rolls in the house.”

“What’s in the last box?” Sloan asked, pointing at the lone remaining cardboard box at the end of the table.

“Just random photography equipment that was left at Preston and Annabelle’s house. No one knew what to do with the stuff when we were emptying out the house, so I took it.”

Nora stood up and walked to the far side of the table. She lifted the last box and carried it over to Sloan. When Nora removed the top, she paused. Her forehead burrowed with wrinkles.

“What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Sloan asked. “More pictures?”

“No, just this.”

Nora reached into the box and, from the random bits of equipment, removed a camera.

“It’s Annabelle’s. The Nikon FM10 I gave her that summer.”

“Why is that strange?”

“Because this wasn’t with Annabelle’s belongings when we cleared out the house.”

“Are you sure? It was nearly thirty years ago.”

“I’m sure. I gave it to her as a birthday present, and I wondered where it went. Part of me figured that if Annabelle had gone on the run, she’d have taken it with her.”

“We both know Annabelle didn’t go on the run.”

Nora nodded.

“Then how did her camera end up in the box if she didn’t leave it at her house?”

Nora looked at Sloan and then back to the camera, turning it over as if holding an ancient relic. “I don’t know.”

Nora twisted the camera one last time and then pulled it close to examine it.

“Son of a gun,” Nora said. “There’s still a roll of film in here.”

“In the camera?”

“Yes.”

Sloan stood. “Are there photos on it?”

“It shows three shots remain. That means there’re twenty-one undeveloped photos in here.”

“A continuation of what’s here,” Sloan said, pointing to the photos that covered the table. “From the day we all disappeared, right? They have to be from the same day.”

Nora’s lips remained separated, slack-jawed by what they’d discovered. “Let’s find out.”

Sloan’s stomach roiled with anxiety and a foreboding sense that the mystery of her life was about to be uncovered.

“What’s wrong?”

Sloan shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just nervous, I guess. To see what’s on the photos.”

“We don’t have to look at these.”

“Of course we do. Can we develop them in the darkroom?”

“Yes. But only if you’re sure.”

“Let’s go.”

They heard the back door open.

“Nora?” Ellis said as he walked into the studio. “We’re ready, but we’ve got to leave now. The news crews are still outside the house, but my parents are leaving through the maintenance road behind the property.”

“I had Sloan pack her things,” Nora said, pointing to Sloan’s suitcase.

“Perfect,” Ellis said, wheeling Sloan’s suitcase to the back door. “I’ll put this in the car.”

“What about Annabelle’s photos?” Sloan asked in a whispered voice.

Nora took the camera and stuffed it into her bag.

“I’ve got a darkroom at the house up north. We’ll develop them there.”

“At the winery?”

“Yes, from back in the day.”

“Ready?” Ellis asked a moment later.

Nora nodded. “Are we all driving together?”

“Not driving,” Ellis said. “Flying. My father chartered a helicopter to get us the hell out of here.”