Book 1 - The Boy in the Yearbook: The Photograph - Chapter 13 - The Blackwood House

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The words on Elliot's letter followed Clara all the way home.

He isn't the boy in the photograph.

She had read the sentence at least twenty times.

It still didn't make sense.

Elliot was the boy in the photograph.

Wasn't he?

Unless the photograph wasn't showing who she thought it was.

Unless the entire mystery had been built around the wrong boy.

Clara sat in the back of Adrian's car, staring through the window as Blackwood Academy disappeared behind them.

Adrian drove silently.

Noah, Maya, and Elena had stayed at school to search through the remaining archives.

Clara had agreed to go home.

But Adrian had other plans.

Clara: "Where are we going?"

Adrian: "The Blackwood house."

She looked at him.

Clara: "My house?"

Adrian: "Your family's old house."

Clara frowned.

Clara: "That's where I live."

Adrian: "Not the one you live in."

He glanced at her.

Adrian: "The original one."

Clara sat up.

Clara: "What?"

Adrian: "There's another Blackwood property."

She had never heard of it.

Clara: "Where?"

Adrian: "Outside town."

Clara stared at him.

Clara: "How do you know?"

Adrian was quiet for a moment.

Adrian: "My father mentioned it once."

Clara: "What did he say?"

Adrian: "That your family kept the things they didn't want anyone finding there."

Clara's stomach tightened.

Clara: "Including records?"

Adrian: "Probably."

She looked out the window again.

Clara: "Then let's find out."

The old Blackwood house stood behind a rusted iron gate.

Clara had never seen it before.

The house was enormous.

Three stories.

Dark stone.

Broken windows.

Ivy covered most of the walls.

It looked abandoned.

But something about it made Clara feel as though someone was watching them.

Adrian turned off the car.

Adrian: "Stay close."

Clara: "You say that like we're entering a haunted house."

Adrian: "Maybe we are."

They approached the front door.

Clara noticed a Blackwood crest carved into the stone.

She touched it.

The door unlocked.

Clara pulled her hand away.

Clara: "I didn't do that."

Adrian stared at the lock.

Adrian: "Neither did I."

The door opened slightly.

Clara looked at Adrian.

Clara: "Still want to go in?"

He nodded.

Adrian: "Yes."

They entered.

Dust covered everything.

Old furniture sat beneath white sheets.

Portraits lined the walls.

Clara walked slowly through the foyer.

Then she stopped.

A portrait showed a young woman.

Her mother.

Clara's heart tightened.

Clara: "That's my mom."

Adrian came beside her.

Adrian: "Elizabeth Blackwood."

Beneath the portrait was a date.

1981–1999.

Clara stared.

Clara: "She was only eighteen when she disappeared."

Adrian looked at her.

Adrian: "Disappeared?"

Clara nodded.

Clara: "That's what my father told me."

Adrian: "He said she died."

Clara looked at him.

Clara: "She did."

Adrian didn't respond.

Clara stepped closer to the portrait.

There was something written beneath the frame.

A date.

October 14, 1997.

The same date as the photograph of Clara with Elliot.

She turned toward Adrian.

Clara: "Why was my mother here?"

Adrian pointed toward a hallway.

Adrian: "Maybe she left something behind."

They searched room after room.

Old bedrooms.

A library.

A dining room.

A study.

Nothing.

Then Clara noticed a bookshelf.

One book was pushed slightly forward.

She pulled it.

The entire shelf moved.

Behind it was a narrow staircase.

Clara: "Adrian."

He joined her.

Adrian: "Secret passage."

They descended.

The room below was smaller than the archives at Blackwood Academy.

But it was packed with boxes.

Documents.

Photographs.

Family records.

Adrian found an old desk.

Adrian: "This is it."

Clara looked around.

Clara: "How do you know?"

Adrian: "Because my father described this room."

He opened a drawer.

Inside was a leather folder.

Stamped with the Blackwood crest.

Clara took it.

Clara: "What is it?"

She opened the folder.

Inside was a family document.

At the top:

BLACKWOOD FAMILY CONFIDENTIAL RECORD

Beneath it was a list of names.

Charles Blackwood.

Elizabeth Blackwood.

Clara Blackwood.

And several others.

But one name had been added in handwriting.

Elliot Ashford.

Clara's heart stopped.

Clara: "Why is Elliot on my family's record?"

Adrian read the next line.

His expression changed.

Adrian: "Clara..."

She looked at him.

Adrian: "It says he was designated as your mother's guardian."

Clara stared.

Clara: "That's impossible."

Adrian turned the page.

There was another document.

This one was dated:

October 14, 1997.

Clara's hands began shaking.

The document stated that Elizabeth Blackwood had entrusted Clara to Elliot Ashford.

Clara whispered:

Clara: "My mother gave me to him."

Adrian: "Apparently."

Clara: "Why?"

There was no answer.

Then Adrian found another page.

He read it silently.

His face went pale.

Clara: "What?"

He handed it to her.

It was a birth certificate.

Clara looked at the name.

Her name.

Clara Elizabeth Blackwood.

But beneath the parents' names was another section.

LEGAL GUARDIAN: ELLIOT ASHFORD.

Clara's breath caught.

Clara: "My father wasn't my guardian."

Adrian shook his head.

Adrian: "No."

She stared at the document.

Clara: "Elliot was."

A noise came from upstairs.

A floorboard creaked.

Adrian immediately closed the folder.

Clara: "Someone's here."

They turned off the light.

Footsteps moved across the floor above them.

Slow.

Careful.

Adrian whispered:

Adrian: "Stay here."

Clara: "No."

He looked at her.

Clara: "We're doing this together."

He nodded.

They climbed the stairs silently.

The hallway was empty.

But the front door was open.

Someone had entered.

Clara noticed muddy footprints leading toward the study.

Adrian followed them.

The study door was open.

Inside, the desk drawers had been pulled out.

Someone had been searching the room.

Clara looked at Adrian.

Clara: "They knew we'd come here."

Adrian's expression hardened.

Adrian: "Yes."

On the desk was a single photograph.

Clara picked it up.

It showed her mother.

Elliot.

And a six-year-old Clara.

But this time, Clara wasn't smiling.

She was crying.

Elliot was kneeling beside her.

Her mother stood behind them.

On the back was handwriting.

He promised he would keep her safe.

Clara turned it over again.

There was more.

He failed.

A sound came from behind them.

Clara turned.

A man stood in the doorway.

Older.

Tall.

Wearing a dark coat.

Adrian stepped in front of Clara.

Adrian: "Who are you?"

The man stared at Clara.

Then at the photograph.

His expression changed.

Man: "You're Elizabeth's daughter."

Clara stepped forward.

Clara: "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer.

Instead, he said something that made Clara's blood run cold.

Man: "Your mother wasn't supposed to have you."

Clara froze.

Clara: "What does that mean?"

The man looked toward Adrian.

Man: "Your father never told you?"

Adrian's hand tightened into a fist.

Adrian: "Tell us."

The man smiled sadly.

Man: "Elliot wasn't protecting Clara from the Blackwoods."

He looked directly at Clara.

Man: "He was protecting the Blackwoods from Clara."

Then he turned and disappeared into the hallway.

Adrian ran after him.

Clara followed.

But the hallway was empty.

The front door slammed.

They rushed outside.

No one was there.

Adrian looked around.

Adrian: "He vanished."

Clara stared at the photograph in her hand.

Then she noticed something written at the bottom.

A sentence she hadn't seen before.

CLARA WAS THE SIXTH.

Her heart stopped.

The six people.

The photograph.

The missing name.

The secret.

It wasn't Elliot who was the sixth.

It had always been her.

And somewhere in the darkness beyond the house, a distant voice whispered:

"Now you remember."

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