The abandoned funeral home loomed in the darkness like a monument to forgotten grief.
Nia remained across the street, watching.
The light she’d seen upstairs had disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.
She checked the time.
10:43 p.m.
The building was supposed to have been vacant for nearly twenty years.
So who had turned on a light?
She raised her camera again and zoomed toward the second-floor window.
Nothing.
Just cracked glass and faded curtains.
Then…
Movement.
A shadow crossed the window.
Gone before she could press the shutter.
Nia lowered the camera.
Whoever was inside knew the building well.
And they clearly didn’t want to be seen.
She decided against going in.
Not alone.
Not at night.
Instead, she drove home, determined to return the next morning with daylight—and perhaps Harold.
As she turned into her mother’s neighborhood, she noticed another familiar sight.
The black SUV.
Parked beneath a streetlight.
Engine off.
Empty.
Or at least it appeared empty.
The moment she slowed her vehicle, the SUV pulled away.
No headlights.
No hurry.
Just enough movement to let her know it hadn’t been parked there by accident.
The following morning, Nia skipped breakfast and drove directly to Aunt Lorraine’s Victorian home.
If Tanya’s handwritten list was accurate, Lorraine had kept the family’s original records.
She also might be the only person who knew what had been removed.
Lorraine answered the door wearing gardening gloves.
“Nia.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You always interrupt.”
She smiled, though the warmth didn’t reach her eyes.
“What brings you here?”
“I wanted to ask you about the family archives.”
Lorraine hesitated.
“What about them?”
“I’d like to see the original photographs.”
“I’ve already shown you everything worth seeing.”
“I don’t think you have.”
Lorraine invited her inside.
The house smelled of lavender and old books.
Shelves lined every wall, filled with genealogy binders, newspaper clippings, and carefully labeled photograph albums.
It was less a home than a museum.
The Carter family museum.
“You’ve always loved history,” Nia said.
“Someone has to preserve it.”
“Or rewrite it.”
Lorraine looked up sharply.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Tanya’s photographs are missing.”
“They were damaged.”
“All of them?”
“They faded.”
“Every single one?”
Lorraine didn’t answer.
Nia wandered through the study while Lorraine made tea.
On the far wall hung a massive Carter family tree stretching back more than a century.
Names filled every branch.
Birth dates.
Marriage dates.
Death dates.
Then she noticed something strange.
Between Denise’s generation and the younger cousins…
A gap.
One branch ended abruptly.
The space looked too wide.
Almost as though another name had once been written there.
Then removed.
“Nia.”
She turned.
Lorraine stood behind her carrying two cups.
“You shouldn’t touch that.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were looking.”
“So?”
Lorraine set the tea down.
“Some things are better left alone.”
After a few moments of polite conversation, Nia excused herself to use the restroom.
Instead, she quietly stepped into the hallway.
She remembered something from childhood.
Behind Lorraine’s study was a small storage room.
Always locked.
Always off limits.
She reached the door.
Locked.
Just as she’d remembered.
But something caught her eye.
Fresh ash.
Scattered across the hardwood floor beneath the door.
Someone had burned paper recently.
A faint smell of smoke lingered in the hallway.
Not from a fireplace.
Burned photographs.
Burned paper.
Nia knelt beside the door.
A tiny strip of charred paper had slipped beneath it.
She carefully picked it up.
Only part of a photograph remained.
The edge of a smiling face.
And the letters…
…NYA
Her pulse quickened.
“Nia?”
Lorraine’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“I’m coming.”
Nia slipped the charred fragment into her pocket.
When she returned to the study, Lorraine was standing beside an open window.
“You took longer than expected.”
“I couldn’t find the bathroom.”
“It’s the only door that isn’t locked.”
The statement landed harder than Lorraine intended.
Nia smiled politely.
“Funny.”
Neither woman laughed.
Before leaving, Nia paused at the front door.
“One more question.”
Lorraine folded her arms.
“What?”
“Why are you burning old family photographs?”
For the first time, genuine fear flashed across her aunt’s face.
“What are you talking about?”
“I smelled smoke.”
“You imagined it.”
“I found this.”
Nia held up the charred fragment.
Lorraine stared at it.
Her face lost all color.
Then, without warning, she snatched it from Nia’s hand.
“That’s private.”
“It’s evidence.”
“It belongs to this family.”
“It belonged to Tanya.”
Lorraine’s voice trembled.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because some truths destroy families.”
Nia stepped closer.
“No.”
“They expose them.”
Lorraine’s composure finally cracked.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You think this is about one girl.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
She shook her head slowly.
“This is about generations.”
“What does that mean?”
Lorraine looked toward the hallway.
Toward the locked storage room.
Then back at Nia.
“There are things in this family…”
She stopped.
Her breathing became uneven.
“I’ve already said too much.”
Nia left with more questions than answers.
But one fact had become undeniable.
Lorraine wasn’t simply preserving family history.
She was editing it.
Destroying photographs.
Removing names.
Erasing evidence.
The family historian wasn’t protecting memories.
She was protecting a lie.
That evening, Harold called.
“I’ve got the property survey for the old funeral home.”
“Anything interesting?”
“There was a renovation in 1999.”
“So?”
“The blueprints don’t match.”
“What do you mean?”
“The original plans show a basement.”
“And?”
“The renovated plans don’t.”
Nia’s heart skipped.
“It disappeared?”
Harold’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“No.”
“It was sealed.”
Silence settled between them.
The basement Tanya had written about…
Still existed.
Someone had simply hidden it.
End of Chapter Ten