Page 250 of Hidden Depths

Or a weapon.

It was an old photograph.

Faded with age.

He handed it to Thomas.

The old man's face turned white.

"No..."

His voice cracked.

"It can't be."

Storm stepped beside him.

"What is it?"

Thomas slowly turned the photograph toward us.

It showed James Sinclair.

Thomas.

Nathan's father.

Charles Ashford.

And standing beside them...

A young woman holding a little girl in her arms.

My breath caught.

I knew that man and the woman.

So did my sisters.

It was our mother and father.

Mom couldn't have been more than twenty.

She was smiling.

Completely unaware that the men standing beside her would one day become enemies.

Thomas whispered, almost to himself,

"James..."

"...you never told me they were there that day, and I had completely forgotten that they came along."

Then his finger drifted to the corner of the photograph.

There, almost hidden in the shadows...

stood another man.