The next morning, Rachel Ward arrived with the detective from the sheriff’s office. She was smaller than Helen expected, hair streaked with gray, but her eyes were sharp. The detective carried an old folder, its edges worn. “We’ll need to see him,” he said quietly. “We have the original photos to verify with.”
Helen led them to Room 304. The man lay propped against white pillows, looking both older and strangely young, like time had been paused around him. Rachel paused in the doorway, hand clamped around the folder. “Caleb?” she whispered, voice shaking. His eyelids fluttered.