Chapter Twelve

The morning after the Whitmore reception, Stephanie woke with a smile.

She lay quietly for a moment, looking toward the window. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the beautiful blue evening gown hanging neatly on the wardrobe door.

Her silver clutch sat on the dressing table.

And she could still remember the kiss.

Richard's face. His voice. The way he had asked permission before leaning toward her.

She touched her lips and smiled again.

Then reality returned.

There was still the mystery of Michelle Reynolds. There was Danielle's uncertain future. And there was the troubling discovery that Margaret Whitmore had personally authorized Stephanie's selection.

Stephanie got dressed and made her way to Danielle's room.

She had something to tell her.

Danielle was sitting on her bed with a magazine when Stephanie entered.

“Well, look who's smiling.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Something tells me you had a wonderful evening.”

Stephanie sat beside her.

“I did.”

Danielle put down the magazine.

“Tell me everything.”

Stephanie described the reception, the guests, the dancing, and Richard's introduction of her as simply Stephanie Thomas.

“And then?” Danielle asked.

Stephanie looked down, smiling shyly.

“We went outside.”

Danielle grinned.

“Go on.”

“He asked me something.”

“What?”

“If he could kiss me.”

Danielle's eyes widened.

“And?”

“I said yes.”

Danielle laughed delightedly.

“Stephanie! You have to tell me more than that.”

Stephanie blushed.

“It was wonderful. I can't really explain it. When he kissed me, everything seemed to disappear. I felt as though fireworks were going off inside my head.”

Danielle studied her expression.

“You really like him.”

“I think I do.”

“Think?”

Stephanie laughed.

“All right. I like him very much.”

She paused, becoming more serious.

“Danielle, there's something else I want to tell you.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. It's just something I've never really talked about.”

Stephanie took a breath.

“When I was Steve, I never kissed anyone. I never had a girlfriend. I had never really been in a relationship.”

Danielle listened without interrupting.

“And Richard was my first kiss,” Stephanie continued. “I'm still a virgin. I've never experienced any of that before.”

She looked embarrassed.

“I know it probably sounds strange.”

Danielle reached for her hand.

“Stephanie, there's nothing strange or shameful about that.”

“I was afraid you'd laugh.”

“Why would I laugh? Everyone has their own story. There's no timetable for romance.”

Stephanie smiled faintly.

“I suppose I just feel inexperienced.”

“Then you get to discover things at your own pace. Nobody gets to decide that for you.”

Stephanie squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

Danielle smiled.

“Besides, from the look on your face, I think Richard has made quite an impression.”

Stephanie laughed.

For a few minutes, they were simply two young women sharing a private conversation, away from the rules and expectations of Dixon.

Then Danielle's expression changed.

“There's something I need to show you.”

Danielle took a folder from beneath her mattress.

“I've been studying the original archive index. The candidate authorizations were kept separately from the ordinary resident records.”

“Margaret's private archive?”

“Yes. And I think I've found the reference to your original file.”

Stephanie looked at her.

“You mean the one with Margaret's authorization?”

Danielle nodded.

“I think the complete file will tell us why she selected you.”

Stephanie felt her stomach tighten.

“Can we get to it?”

“There's a records room connected to the director's administrative office. The original files are supposed to be stored there.”

“And the security?”

“That's the problem.”

Danielle unfolded a floor plan she had copied from an old maintenance document.

“There are two entrances. One is monitored. The other is used by archive staff, but it requires an authorized access card.”

Stephanie studied the plan.

“Can we get a card?”

“Possibly. But we need to be careful.”

Stephanie nodded.

She was beginning to understand that their investigation was becoming more dangerous.

That afternoon, Margaret Whitmore sat alone in her office.

On her desk was a large leather folder.

The label read:

THOMAS, STEVEN — ORIGINAL CANDIDATE FILE

Margaret opened it.

Inside were photographs, background reports, institutional correspondence, and the original selection assessment.

She turned to the authorization page.

Her own signature appeared at the bottom.

She remembered the first time she had reviewed Steve Thomas's background.

Eighteen years old.

No substantial family support.

Few close friendships.

A small physical frame.

No romantic relationship.

Sexual inexperience.

A young man whose disappearance, Margaret had believed, would attract little attention.

The selection report had described him as quiet, observant, and potentially adaptable.

Margaret had approved the file personally.

But there was another document.

A sealed envelope attached to the back cover.

It bore a handwritten instruction:

DO NOT DESTROY — ORIGINAL CONVICTION CORRESPONDENCE

Margaret stared at it.

She had almost forgotten that it was there.

Then she closed the folder.

Some things were better left buried.

Later that evening, Stephanie and Danielle met in the library.

Danielle had managed to obtain a copy of an old archive access schedule.

“Look,” she whispered.

Stephanie leaned closer.

A maintenance entry listed a temporary archive closure for the following morning.

“Why is that important?”

“Because the security system is scheduled for maintenance. For a short period, the archive entrance will be monitored manually rather than electronically.”

Stephanie looked at her.

“You're suggesting we go in?”

“I'm suggesting we find out whether we can.”

Stephanie hesitated.

“Danielle, if Margaret catches us—”

“She already suspects us.”

Stephanie looked down at the schedule.

They both knew the risks.

But the file could contain answers about Steve's selection, the circumstances of his conviction, and the people who had arranged his arrival.

“Tomorrow morning,” Stephanie said.

Danielle nodded.

“Tomorrow morning.”

As they were putting the papers away, a familiar voice came from behind them.

“Good evening, ladies.”

They turned.

Mrs. Hargrove stood at the end of the table.

Her expression was pleasant, but her eyes moved immediately to the documents.

“What are you studying?”

Danielle closed the folder.

“Some historical material about the institute.”

“How interesting.”

Mrs. Hargrove approached.

“Miss Mercer, I believe you have been spending quite a lot of time in the archives lately.”

“I'm interested in the history of Dixon.”

“Of course.”

Her attention shifted to Stephanie.

“And you, Stephanie? I hope you're enjoying your new relationship with Mr. Whitmore.”

Stephanie remained composed.

“I am, thank you.”

“Margaret will be pleased to hear that.”

Mrs. Hargrove smiled.

Then she turned and left.

Danielle waited until she was out of sight.

“She knows.”

Stephanie nodded.

“I think she's been watching us for some time.”

That evening, Stephanie found a card waiting for her.

It was from Richard.

I hope you're still smiling after last night. I certainly am.

I'd like to see you again soon. Perhaps dinner, somewhere a little quieter this time.

Richard.

Stephanie read it twice.

She felt that familiar warmth return.

She wanted to see him.

But she also knew that her investigation could put everything at risk.

She placed the card on the dressing table and looked at the blue gown hanging in her wardrobe.

For the first time, she wondered whether she could have both things: a genuine relationship with Richard and the truth about Dixon.

She hoped so.

Across the institute, Margaret returned to her office after the staff had gone home.

She unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a second folder.

This one was older.

Its cover read:

EXTERNAL CORRESPONDENCE — ORIGINAL CANDIDATE ACQUISITIONS

Margaret opened it.

The first page contained a name she recognized immediately.

STEVEN THOMAS.

Beneath it was a letter from an outside intermediary, dated several weeks before Steve's conviction.

Margaret read the first paragraph.

Then she stopped.

The letter suggested that the circumstances surrounding Steve's arrest had been discussed in advance.

Margaret's face became expressionless.

She turned to the final page.

A handwritten note appeared at the bottom.

Candidate secured. Conviction proceeding as arranged. Transfer authorization to follow.

Margaret slowly lowered the letter.

For the first time in years, she looked genuinely unsettled.

Someone outside Dixon had helped arrange Steve Thomas's arrival.

And that person had kept a record.

Margaret locked the folder away.

But she had no idea that Stephanie and Danielle were planning to enter the archive the following morning.