The Lost Soul

A Hidden Clue

### Chapter 2: A Hidden Clue

James lay awake that night, the letter tucked under his pillow, his mind racing. The words he had read over and over echoed in his thoughts. *"If he ever discovers what truly happened, it could place him in grave danger."* What had his parents been involved in? Who were these people that thought hiding the truth was necessary to keep him safe?

The questions spiraled in his head, but there was no one to ask. Mrs. Hargrave certainly couldn't be trusted, and there was no one else in the orphanage who might know more. But James was no stranger to feeling alone—he had dealt with that his whole life. His isolation only made him more determined to uncover the truth.

He had to start somewhere, and that somewhere was still in Mrs. Hargrave's office.

The next morning, while the other children were still asleep, James quietly slipped out of bed. The orphanage was always slow to wake on Sundays. The staff took their time preparing breakfast, and the children often slept in. This gave James the perfect window of time to return to the office unnoticed. His heart still pounded with the thrill of last night's discovery, and now, it pushed him forward with a new purpose.

He tiptoed down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky spots on the floorboards, and made his way to the office once again. The key still hung on a small hook in the kitchen, and in minutes, James had the door unlocked.

Mrs. Hargrave's office felt colder this morning, or perhaps it was just the weight of what he was about to do. He walked straight to the filing cabinet, determined to search for more answers. He went through every folder, hoping for another clue, but there was nothing more about him or his parents. The rest of the files were just as mundane as they seemed—basic records about the other children, nothing unusual.

But James wasn't ready to give up. He scanned the room for anything he might have missed. His eyes landed on the large wooden desk. The drawers were all locked, but he noticed one drawer—slightly ajar as if it hadn't closed properly the night before. His fingers quickly found the gap, and with a little force, he pulled it open.

Inside, tucked beneath a stack of papers, was a small, black book.

James pulled it out, his fingers brushing over the worn leather cover. It was plain, with no title or markings. His hands shook slightly as he opened the first page. It wasn't long before he realized what it was—Mrs. Hargrave's journal.

Flipping through the pages, James found entries dating back years. Most were about the day-to-day operations of the orphanage: children arriving, donations from townsfolk, and letters from potential adopters. But as he neared the more recent entries, something caught his eye. His name—James—scrawled in hurried handwriting.

He stopped, holding his breath as he read.

*"James is asking questions. I fear he suspects something. He has always been curious, but this is different now. He is older, and if he keeps searching, I don't know how much longer I can keep the truth from him. I must contact them again, though I fear they may refuse to intervene. The boy is becoming a danger to the secret."*

The secret. There it was again—another reference to something he wasn't meant to know. And who was she planning to contact? The same people who had written that letter?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the office. His heart jumped into his throat. Quickly, he stuffed the journal back into the drawer, shoved it closed, and darted behind a heavy curtain that hung by the window.

The door creaked open, and Mrs. Hargrave stepped inside. She moved to her desk, muttering to herself. James held his breath, willing himself to stay still. He could hear the shuffling of papers as she settled into her chair.

"I need to write the letter," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He mustn't know."

James peeked from behind the curtain, careful not to make a sound. Mrs. Hargrave was writing something—another letter, most likely. He watched as she sealed it in an envelope and set it aside.

"I'll deliver it tonight," she muttered before leaving the office as quickly as she had come.

James waited a few minutes after the door closed before slipping out from his hiding spot. His pulse was racing. He needed to know what was in that letter.

His hands moved quickly, tearing open the envelope. The letter was short, and his eyes scanned it rapidly.

*"To Whom It May Concern,

The boy knows too much. He has found the letter. We must act soon before he discovers the truth. The meeting must happen before the end of the month. Let me know when you can arrive. Time is running out.

- E.H."*

Mrs. Hargrave had signed it with her initials, but that wasn't the part that shook James to his core. There was a meeting happening—and soon. Whoever Mrs. Hargrave was working with would be coming to the orphanage by the end of the month. James felt a mix of fear and urgency. He had less time than he thought.

But then, something clicked in his mind. *The meeting... If they're coming here, then I'll be able to confront them. Whoever they are, they have the answers.*

But James knew he couldn't wait passively for the meeting to happen. He needed to be ready, to learn as much as he could before the end of the month. There were still too many unknowns. Why was this secret so dangerous? And why was it so important that he never learn the truth?

He pocketed the letter, carefully re-sealed the envelope, and placed it back on the desk. He slipped out of the office and returned to the children's wing, his mind buzzing with plans.

As he lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, James couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious meeting. He couldn't let fear control him—not now, not when he was so close to discovering the truth.

In the days that followed, James kept his head down. He pretended nothing had changed, going about his usual chores and activities. But inside, he was preparing. He would keep searching, keep watching for any clue. And when the meeting happened, he would be ready to find out who these people were and what they were hiding.

The secret was there, lurking in the shadows of his past, and James was determined to bring it into the light. Whatever the truth was, he would face it head-on.

The clock was ticking.