The Portrait in the Closed Studio
Chapter 1: Bell’s Studio
The photograph appeared in the window on a Tuesday morning.
No one saw who placed it there.
Bell’s Studio had been closed for twelve years, ever since old Mr. Bell died behind the counter. The door was still chained from the inside. Dust covered the display glass, and the faded blue sign above it had lost all but three of its gold letters.
Yet there it was: a fresh black-and-white portrait standing among the dead flies and sun-bleached wedding pictures.
It showed a little girl in a white dress.
Her hands rested neatly in her lap. Her hair had been combed flat and fastened with two dark ribbons. She was not smiling.
Behind her stood a woman whose face had been scratched away.
Most people stopped for only a moment. They glanced at the picture, blamed local children, and continued toward the bakery or bus stop.
But when Ruth Mercer saw it, she dropped the paper bag she was carrying.
Three apples rolled into the gutter.