They took her to the hospital to be tested, and kept me for further questioning. They didn’t seem to believe anything I had said, but after looking at the records a few hours later they brought me back out.
Apparently there was a boy who had disappeared back in the eighties and lived in that house. He had been on their missing person’s reports since 1988, but nothing had been heard from the case in years. Apparently, they had also found the wife stabbed to death two years before, during the beginning of winter. My stomach dropped as I realized that was only weeks after we had bought the camera from her. The police supposed it was the husband who murdered both of them, but he was a missing person’s case of his own. However, since I had nothing more to offer them, they were incensed and it was almost back to the cell for me. But then Gina strode in.
Her first words, “I know where the body is.” The officers stared at her dumbfounded. “Trust me, he told me, or showed me. Whatever. It’s on an island upstate, at that park we stayed at. His father killed him, back in the late eighties. I think he got drunk and accidentally smashed his head in. Then he transported the body to the place the family used to vacation. I can show you where, you just have to trust me.”
Even though the officers were skeptical, within twenty-four hours, we stood on the shore of a tiny island in the middle of Cranberry Lake, staring out over the water while a team of officers recovered his bones from a pine grove. Gina didn’t say much more than she had to, and didn’t seem desiring to explain how she found these things out. All I knew was that she was scared.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes while she looked out over the cool blue water, watching the waves lap at the shoreline. Silently, she raised the camera, steadied it, and took a quick photograph. As it came out, she stared at it was a profound sense of nervousness. Then as it faded into color a smile replaced the frown, for what seemed like the first time in years.