“Oh,” Sam says. “Speaking of old pictures. I have something for you. Your dad called yesterday, and I told him what’s going on and where you are. He was actually planning on coming to Sherwood.”
“He's back?” I ask.
“Yeah, he's at home. He says he'll come to see you as soon as we’re back. But then he scanned some pictures and emailed them to me. He made me promise to print them out and bring them to you.”
Just as Sam is handing me the stack of pictures, Dean comes out of the back area that has two bunk beds and a small bathroom. The first few make me smile and bring a nostalgic tear to my eye. But that disappears when I get to the last one.
Dean looks over my shoulder and rests his finger on the picture in front of me.
“That's me,” he says. “It looks like I'm down near the lake. But who is that?”
He points to the little girl standing beside him with her back to the camera, seeming to look toward someone calling her name. I separate the pictures and bring one of the first in the stack up to display beside it.
"That's me."
"You?" Dean asks, sounding as shocked as I felt when I first saw the picture. "Where did you get that?"
"My father sent them to Sam. There is a bunch of the park and me, then this one of us."
"I don't understand," he frowns.
"Neither do I," I say. "But I feel as if I've seen this picture before."
"Maybe your father showed it to you when you were younger?" Dean asks.
I shake my head. "No. Not this exact one. Something like it."
It doesn't make sense. I didn't know Dean existed until encountering him on that train. How is it that there is a picture of us together here at the campground? I grab my phone and continue to stare at the picture as it rings.
“Hey, sweetie,” my father says when he answers the phone.
“Dad, what is this picture?” I ask.
“Sam gave it to you?” he asks, not sounding at all as if there's something strange about it.
“Yes,” I say. “But I don't understand it. Neither does Dean. How is there a picture of us together when we were little children?”
“I never mentioned it because I didn't know if I should,” Dad starts. “But when Sam told me that the two of you were there investigating the murders and this woman's disappearance, I got to thinking about that day. I didn't know if I still had the picture, but I found it. I don't know if Dean remembers, but he used to go camping up there with his mother when he was a little boy. She loved being outside and feeling so free and safe. Do you remember going up there when you were little, Emma?”
“I remember camping. I didn't realize it was at this campground,” I tell him.
"It wasn't always," Dad says. "We went camping in other places, too. But we did occasionally go to Arrow Lake. One summer, while we were there, Dean's mother happened to bring him at the same time. The two of you migrated toward each other. We didn't even realize she was there until we saw you playing with him. It was as though you were drawn to each other.
“I took that picture, but your mother decided we needed to keep you two apart. We didn't even know that Jonah was Dean's father at the time. But she didn't want that kind of fusion between her career and her home life. She didn't want to put you at any risk."
“Thank you, Dad,” I say.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it sooner. Seeing the two of you so close, it's nice knowing you always had that bond. Even when you didn't know it," he says.
"It is,” I say. “Look, Dad, it's really nice to talk to you and I'm glad you're home. I really look forward to seeing you when all this is over. But I’ve got to go.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I don't think so,” I say, not knowing for sure which of his questions I'm answering.
Chapter Thirty-One
I end the call, then pull up a quick search. It takes a couple of tries, but I find what I'm looking for and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest. Taking a screenshot, I sweep the search off my screen, then immediately head for the office area and the case files. I dig through them, pulling out specific pictures and laying them out so I can take pictures of them on my phone.
“What's going on?” Dean asks.
“I need to see some things. Out in the campground,” I tell him.
“I'll get dressed,” he nods, bustling out of the room.
“What did you figure out?” Sam frowns.
“I'm not positive yet,” I tell him. “But something caught my eye when I was looking through this photography project, and I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to make sure I’m actually seeing what I think I am.”
It takes another twenty minutes for everybody to get ready to go, and I'm on edge by the time we head out of the cabin and into the waiting woods. The day is already hot. Oppressive humidity closes in around us. Sweat drips down my face and along my spine as we trudge through the thick sections of trees. One by one we stop at locations, and I compare images on my phone with what I'm seeing.
The more stops we make, the more the feeling in my stomach twists in knots. It's late in the afternoon by the time we get to the waterfall. Being close to the water cascading down the rocks and bouncing up in a fine mist is refreshing. I want to just stand there at the edge and close my eyes so the cool droplets can bring down the stinging heat on
