Page 11 of Buried Secrets

“Here we go,” Amy said as they reached the bottom. “The main basement is through there. We’ve got temporary lighting set up, but the construction workers found the records room through this door here.”

She indicated a partially open, heavy wooden door set into the stone wall, its surface scarred and discolored with age.

“The lock was rusted shut,” she explained. “They had to break it to get in. Didn’t expect to find all this paperwork.”

Kaitlin’s heart pounded as she approached the threshold. Beyond this door potentially lay answers she’d sought for years, answers within reach.

The contractor flipped a switch, illuminating the space with a single bare bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. The room was larger than she’d expected, perhaps fifteen feet square, lined with metal filing cabinets and wooden shelves sagging under the weight of ledgers and bound volumes. Boxes were stacked in corners, their cardboard softened by humidity and time.

“Records go back pretty far,” the contractor said, gesturing to a cabinet where a drawer hung open, revealing folders labeled by year. “Looks like they just sealed it up when they sold the place, left everything behind. We were inspecting the foundation. Doesn’t look like there was any water damage.”

Kaitlin approached the nearest shelf, her fingers itching. A large leather-bound ledger caught her eye… Resident Intake Records 1975 - 1985 embossed in faded gold on its spine. So close to her birth year. So close to answers.

“This is… remarkable,” she managed, keeping her voice steady despite the anticipation threatening to overwhelm her. “A virtually untouched archive.”

“And potentially full of evidence,” Matt added, his gaze sweeping the room with professional assessment. He moved to a cabinet labeled Medical Records, opened a drawer, and examined the contents.

“Evidence of what, exactly?” Kaitlin asked, unable to contain her curiosity despite her annoyance with him.

Matt remained guarded. “That’s part of what we’re trying to determine.”

“How wonderfully specific,” she said dryly.

“Well,” Amy interrupted awkwardly. “I should get back upstairs. Got estimates to review.” She nodded to them both and retreated up the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the stone stairwell.

Alone now with Matt in the dim light of the records room, Kaitlin felt his scrutiny.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” she asked, deciding direct confrontation might be better than this simmering hostility.

“Should I?” He closing the drawer he’d been examining a little too loudly. “You show up on a small island where most visitors have cleared out for the season. You take a specific interest in a property where we’ve just found human remains. And now you conveniently volunteer to catalog records that might be relevant to my investigation.” He crossed his arms. “From where I stand, that’s a lot of coincidences.”

“Or perhaps it’s simply that my research and your investigation involve the same historical location.” Kaitlin matched his posture.

“It’s your eagerness that is interesting to me. These records are a particularly large undertaking for nothing in return. Just to research for your client?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

For a moment, Kaitlin considered telling him the truth about her adoption, the mysterious circumstances, her search for her birth mother.

A protective caution held her back. She didn’t know who on this island might have been involved in whatever happened to her mother. Because whether her mother gave her baby up willingly and left the island on her own or was one of the body bags from the garden remained to be seen. She couldn’t trust anyone, especially not the local law enforcement, until she knew more.

“I’m looking for history and the story it tells us,” she said finally. “Just as you’re looking for justice for whoever ended up buried on these grounds. Our goals aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Aren’t they?” Matt stepped closer, his height more apparent in the confined space. “Because from where I stand, you’re not being honest.”

Kaitlin refused to be intimidated. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “And you seem determined to obstruct legitimate research because it doesn’t fit your narrow perspective of who belongs on your island and who doesn’t. Just because you don’t know everything about me doesn’t mean I’m not trustworthy.”

He stopped himself from responding, visibly reining in his frustration. “I’m responsible for this investigation. That means ensuring evidence isn’t compromised.”

“And I’m responsible for providing my client the deliverables I’ve promised while preserving historical records,” she countered. “Which is exactly what I’ve offered to do.”

They stood at an impasse, irritation simmering between them, until something shifted in Matt’s gaze—not softening exactly, but a different kind of assessment. For a disconcerting moment, Kaitlin wondered if he saw more than she’d intended to reveal.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But everything gets documented properly. Nothing leaves the house without being logged. And anything potentially relevant to my investigation gets reported immediately. I should have some specifics shortly.”

His conditions were exactly what she’d expected, but the grudging concession was still a victory. “Agreed,” she replied. “Though I expect you to extend the same professional courtesy if you find anything relevant to my criteria.”

A flicker of something that might almost have been amusement crossed his features. “Right.” He gestured toward the door. “After you, Ms. Mathews.”

They ascended in tense silence, the only sound their footsteps echoing against the ancient walls. Despite her frustration with Matt’s suspicions and his hovering presence, Kaitlin felt a surge of anticipation. She was close now, so close to answers. The roomful of records from exactly the right period beaconed.