64
Freddy Hagerman hunched forward, bathed in the dim red glow that struggled to keep the darkness at bay. A line of damp photographs dangled from clips along the clothesline, which stretched above the bathtub in the motel bathroom. As he studied a drying photograph in the makeshift darkroom, Freddy rubbed his chin.
His insistent need to cling to the old ways of doing things sometimes paid dividends. One thing you missed in digital photography was the way a photograph magically appeared from the foggy background as the development process continued. And for someone as good at that process as Freddy, there were moments as the picture emerged where otherwise hidden details stood out. One of those moments now stared him in the face.
Freddy had been photographing the Henderson House compound for the last six days, from as many different vantage points as possible. He hadn't known exactly what he was looking for, but before he set foot on the property he would. One thing he did know; the more he watched the place, the more he felt that he was peering at one of those old horror movies, the ones shot in black and white.
That was stupid, of course, probably a side effect of the utterly bizarre architecture and the white uniformed attendants that roamed the grounds. Still, Freddy was having a hard time shaking the irrational fear that had been growing in his mind.
But at the moment, his attention had been seized by a photograph of a helicopter landing on the back side of the estate. Freddy had been lucky to get it. The spot was mostly blocked from view by the buildings that surrounded it. Freddy had been in a spot on a hill opposite the gatehouse that yielded a very narrow line of sight to the helipad, when he had seen the helicopter approaching.
He had begun snapping pictures, following the chopper with his lens as it settled to the ground. All but one of those pictures had turned out to be useless. And Freddy might have missed the point of interest in this one if he had not been watching as the picture emerged on the photographic paper as it swam beneath the development solution. For a few seconds, a single face had clarified ahead of the background against which it might otherwise have been concealed.
Just visible in the image as it passed around the far side of the chopper, a familiar face angled toward him. Freddy leaned in for a closer look, shaking his head in astonishment.
Now what the hell was Dr. Donald Stephenson doing at Henderson House?