Eleanor demanded they re-interview everyone at the school, convinced the answer was there. She wanted the teachers, the janitors, and the bus drivers questioned again. Sullivan patiently explained that everyone, including the night watchman who had recently moved away, had been cleared with solid alibis.
At the mention of the watchman, Frank slammed his hand against the wall, rattling the frames on the desk. He shouted that if the police wouldn’t find the man, he would. Sullivan stood up, his voice turning stern, warning Frank against taking the law into his own hands. He warned him about the consequences of vigilante justice.
The detective promised to call if anything changed, but he asked them to try and find a way to live their lives. Eleanor collapsed back into her chair, staring at the photo of Billy clipped to the file—the boy who had wanted to be an architect. Frank turned away, blinking back tears he refused to let fall.
As they left the station, Frank promised Eleanor he wouldn’t stop looking, even if the cops did. But as they walked through the chilly March air, the weight of the silence between them was heavy. Decades passed. Billy’s parents eventually passed away, never knowing the truth, as the world moved into a new century.
Oak Creek Elementary, where Billy had been a student, changed over the years. The facade was updated in the 70s, and a new gym was added in the 90s. Only the old library, with its towering shelves and high ceilings, remained largely untouched due to budget constraints. Finally, in 2016, funds were allocated for a total digital renovation of the space.
A construction crew began tearing down the old structures, ripping out rotted wood and crumbling partitions. The air was thick with dust and the smell of old paper and damp stone. The workers were just clearing space for computer labs, unaware that the walls held a fifty-year-old secret.
