Chapter 11: The Drawing on the Floor
Peter explained that the symbol had been painted near the backstage floor in the Lantern Room.
He remembered it because the mark resembled a wheel with three spokes, although one section of the wheel remained unfinished.
The adults called it a rehearsal mark.
Children were instructed to follow it during a blackout drill.
The drill had never appeared on the official rehearsal schedule.
“I thought it was a game,” Peter said.
“I was ten years old, and someone told us to memorize the shape.”
Elena sat down because the resemblance to her own tattoo had suddenly become more troubling.
Her design came from a different theater, in another state, many years later.
She had drawn the same three lines to remind herself of three exits.
A circle with three strokes was simple enough for two people to invent independently.
That did not explain why Lorraine had reacted as though Elena carried an accusation on her skin.
“Did you ever tell the police about the symbol?” Elena asked.
“I told everybody,” Peter answered.
“One detective drew it on a pad, and another said I was confusing it with the theater logo.”
“Did your parents keep anything from the investigation?”
“My mother kept a box, but I haven’t opened it since she died.”
Elena heard movement at the far end of the call.
Peter seemed to be walking across a room.
“I can bring the box tomorrow,” he said.
“I want to see that workshop myself.”
Elena remembered Shah’s warning about private meetings.
She asked Peter to meet her at the public library first.
Peter agreed without hesitation.
Before hanging up, he asked one more question.
“Is the workshop door white now?”
Elena said that it was.
“Then somebody has covered the original warning,” he replied.
Chapter 12: The Library Table
The next morning, Elena arrived at the library fifteen minutes early.
She chose a table near the information desk and placed her notebook in front of her.
Peter entered carrying a cardboard archive box with a broken plastic handle.
He was a tall man with close-cropped hair and a careful way of looking at unfamiliar rooms.
He introduced himself and sat across from her.
The box contained theater programs, newspaper clippings, photographs, and several envelopes addressed to his mother.
Elena asked permission before touching anything.
Peter opened a program from the Lantern Room’s final production.
The printed stage diagram showed a front lobby and a rear loading entrance.
There was no side corridor.
“That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one,” Elena said.
Peter pulled out a photograph of children painting scenery.
Behind them stood a temporary wall made from hinged wooden flats.
A narrow opening appeared between two sections.
Elena recognized the construction immediately.
“Those aren’t structural walls,” she said.
“They’re scenery panels.”
Peter pointed at a black shape near the floor.
The image was too small to show the details, but Elena could see the edge of a circular marking.
She turned to another photograph.
This one showed Mrs. Hartwell beside a costume rack.
A younger Lorraine stood near the doorway, holding a clipboard against her chest.
A third woman appeared partly hidden behind a painted backdrop.
Peter said her name was June Kessler, the theater’s volunteer technical director.
“June left town after the investigation,” he said.
“I always assumed she was ashamed.”
Elena examined the backdrop.
A chalk arrow pointed toward a gap in the scenery.
“Why would the technical director put a route behind a temporary wall?” she asked.
Peter answered without looking up.
“Maybe she didn’t.”
They both turned toward the library entrance when the front door opened.
Lorraine Pike stood beside the return desk.
She had not come to borrow a book.
