Lucas’s POV
“Yes,” Maria whispered, so quiet I almost missed it. “I… I have one picture.”
The air in the room felt thicker, like the walls were closing in. My pulse hammered in my ears, loud and fast. One picture. One chance to put a face to the man who might have helped kill my mother.
She stood up slowly, legs shaky, and disappeared down a short hallway. John and I didn’t speak. We just waited, the tension winding tighter with every second she was gone. I scanned the room again—old photos on the walls, none of them clear enough to make out faces. My mind raced: What if the photo was useless? What if Dr. Richard had changed too much? What if this whole trip was another dead end?
Footsteps. Soft. Hesitant.
Maria came back holding a small, faded Polaroid. Her hand trembled as she han
