The Girl and the Cursed Lake (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 12) Read online

  “I don't necessarily think we cease to be,” I say. “I just don't know if we stay here.”

  "But why wouldn't we? I don't know for sure about any of it. I do know that every culture, every religion, every people in human history have believed in more. It goes by different names and has different traditions, but it really comes down to the same thing. We are just one small part of an incredible tapestry. Nothing more than a stitch. Those stitches don't exist merely for the purpose of existing. Just one stitch can't stand alone. It shouldn't stand alone. It exists because of those around it and for others. It exists so it can be a part of a continuation.

  “We as individuals are fleeting. But we are not erasable. Every single life that comes this way creates something. Just the very idea of life is a radical, revolutionary act. Not because it's something new, but because it defies reason. Every life that comes to be is unique. There has never been a single other person that is the same as you. There never will be again. You are the only one who has been and ever will be born. You are the only person who can be you. The only person who can think your thoughts and feel what you feel. The only person who can leave the impression on the world you were made to leave.

  “I can't believe that was an accident. I just can't bring myself to believe that you are nothing more than a random assortment of genes that tumbled into each other. You aren't random. Your body might be, but not your actual being. The body doesn't matter. It belongs to the Earth and will return to the Earth at some point. But who you are, what separates you from everyone else, continues. That's not something that can just disappear."

  “Do you think everyone who has ever lived is still here?” I ask.

  Xavier shakes his head. "No. I think most move on and don't need to be here always. But I like to think that maybe they can be. It's nice just to think that I'm not infinitely separated from my parents or from Andrew. Or from Millie. I might not be able to see them the way I used to. I can't have them in my life the way I want them to be. But living in a world completely without them isn't something I want to face. And maybe I don't have to."

  "Alright, putting all that aside. If we're going to go on the working theory that the spirits of people who have died can continue to roam the Earth in some form or another, why are these people chasing them? Isn't that really intrusive? Even if I ignore how ridiculous it seems for these guys to run around trying to capture some sort of evidence that ghosts exist, I feel like it's incredibly disrespectful. They're just kind of storming into their space, demanding attention," I say. "How is that okay?"

  "There are two primary theories when it comes to intelligent spirits, as opposed to residual energy. The latter are more like recordings that keep playing again and again, without any interaction with or from the world. Like those ghost stories you hear about a spirit doing the same repetitive motion, over and over, constantly. But an intelligent spirit is aware and can interact. Those types of hauntings can be voluntary, where the spirit has chosen to come back to a certain place for any number of reasons. It could be that it was a place the person loved during life. She might be waiting for someone, or have something she feels the living need to know. Whatever the reason, he’s chosen to be there and can move about more or less freely.

  “The spirits may also be in a place involuntarily. They could be trapped there or bound to a physical location. Again, this can happen for any number of reasons. Most experts agree these bonds are not absolute. Spirits can be freed from the imprisonment and allowed to move on. But they usually need the help of the living to do that. By being willing to try to understand them and reach out to them, paranormal investigators can give the spirits the attention or help they need. All the while gaining insight into the existence of another realm and the perpetuation of existence after death,” Xavier says. “Easy peasy.”

  “But aren't some of these guys really obnoxious?” I ask. “Don't they go into these places and scream and yell? They make a big deal out of everything and don't actually do much for the ghosts?”

  Xavier sits silently for several seconds, breaking the pieces of cinnamon roll still on his plate into little chunks and dipping them individually into his coffee. He looks back up at me, and his eyes widen slightly as if he is just realizing I'm still talking to him.

  "Me? Do I think those guys are obnoxious?" he asks.

  "Yes," I say.

  "Oh, I don't know. I don't watch those shows," he shrugs.

  Chapter Four

  I stare at him incredulously. "You don't watch those shows."

  "I've never even seen an episode. The big ghost-hunting-team-exploring-haunted-places craze happened when I was otherwise occupied."

  It's his way of saying when he was in prison serving time for the murder of his best friend, Andrew. They stole nearly a decade of his life. Yet, he doesn't carry any bitterness. There are many things about Xavier that never cease to amaze me. But one is how he's able to see life only moving forward. The only times he looks back are when he's thinking of someone. Not because he's dwelling on it or being bitter. Getting used to the world again hasn't been easy on him. It's a very different world than it was when he went in. But he's learning. Xavier’s adapting in the unique ways he does anything.

  Which, so far, hasn't included getting rid of the sharp turns and detours his conversations tend to take.

  “Then what the hell was all that about?” I sputter.

  “I was talking about ghosts in general,” Xavier shrugs. “I don't know anything about the show.”

  “I can actually speak to that. It really is fascinating,” Sam speaks up as he reaches for another cinnamon roll. “It isn't just a team of people walking around haunted houses yelling at ghosts, and they very, very rarely sit down with a Ouija board, thank you, Emma. I know that was the next thing about to come out of your mouth." It was. "They use all kinds of scientific tools and equipment.”

  “What do you mean scientific tools and equipment?” I ask. “They really are Ghostbusters!”

  “They’re not Ghostbusters,” he counters.

  “I can't believe you don't know about this,” Bellamy says.

  "Should I?" I ask.

  "I mean… it seems like you."

  “I chase down the living nightmares,” I say. “I haven't had a whole lot of time to care about going after the dead ones.”

  “Then you don't actually know how you feel about it,” Eric says. “I'm not one to immediately jump on the haunted hayride and say I think there are ghosts wandering around everywhere. But I'm fascinated by the possibility. And some of these investigations are interesting. And if nothing else, they're entertaining.”

  “I want to know more about the scientific tools and equipment,” Xavier says. “What do they do?”

  “All kinds of things,” Sam offers. “There's a whole community of scientists who designed different types of equipment to detect various things thought to be related to spiritual activity.”

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  Sam smiles and winks at me.

  “Some of the tools detect changes in temperature and electromagnetic energy. There are motion detectors and special cameras that detect the movement of energy and forces that are invisible to the naked eye. There are recorders for EVPs.”

  “EVPs?” Xavier asks.

  “Electronic voice phenomenon. It's voices that you don't hear with your ears when they happen, but they show up on recordings. There's the Spirit Box that cycles through radio waves. That's thought to give the ghosts the ability to form words,” Sam says.

  “What about being dead makes it so these people can't speak anymore?” I ask.

  “It's not that they can't speak. It's that being in two different planes of existence makes it more difficult to communicate,” Sam says. “So they cycle through different electromagnetic and radio frequencies that could theoretically be easier for spirits to access and communicate through, rather than through the audio waves we hear with human ears. It gives them an interface to work through
.”

  “Again, who are you?” I ask.

  He laughs. “As Eric said, it's interesting. I don't know what they think they're going to find at this campground, but I'd like to watch and find out.”

  “Me, too,” Xavier says.

  “I'm in,” Bellamy says.

  “So, we're going to do this?” I ask. “We're going to watch the live ghost hunt?”

  “You can consider it further study into the human mind,” Eric offers. “We all know how much you love trying to figure people out. So now try to figure out some dead ones.”

  “Or the live ones that try to find them,” I reply.

  “Or that,” Eric says with a grin. “Besides, they always get into the deaths that happened and why they think there would be hauntings in the area. Even if you don't want to listen to the paranormal evidence, you might be interested in the disappearances and murders that happened there.”

  "That might be interesting. It's a little more up our alley, right, Dean?" I ask.

  I look over at Dean. His eyes have dropped away from us and he's staring into the middle distance. He jumps slightly when he realizes I've said his name.

  "What?" he asks.

  "The campground," I say. "Those Ghostbusters want to watch the investigation—”

  “They’re not Ghostbusters!”

  “And anyway, I was saying it would be interesting to hear about the disappearances and murders that have happened there."

  "Oh," he says, nodding as he sits up straighter and seems to shake himself out of whatever thoughts dragged him away. "Yeah."

  "How would one go about building some of these tools?" Xavier asks.

  Dean looks down at his mug and stands. "I'm going to get another coffee."

  He walks out of the room, and I follow him just as Sam tells Xavier he can order some of the tools online. I have a feeling he might regret imparting that knowledge soon.

  I get to the kitchen as Dean pours coffee into his mug and heads to the refrigerator for the milk.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  He glances over the door at me and nods.

  "I'm fine. Why?"

  "You just seem to be somewhere else. You didn't say anything about watching the investigation or anything," I say. “We had a whole symposium on the nature of life and death and spirits and you didn’t even make a peep.”

  He shrugs and pours far more milk into his coffee than I know he likes.

  "Nothing to say. I don't know if I believe in ghosts. It's not something I've put a lot of thought into. But if there's anywhere they would be, maybe it's there. And I think people should stay away from it."

  "Why?" I ask.

  He takes a deep gulp of his coffee, nearly draining the mug, then stares down into it.

  "Because maybe there are things that are abandoned for a reason." He finishes his coffee and rinses the mug before setting it in the sink. "It's getting late. Xavier and I should go."

  I follow him into the living room.

  "They were made out of millet, which, of course, is different than what we think of when we think of noodles. But can you imagine? They were just sitting there under that bowl for four thousand years. But that's nothing compared to the flatbread found in the Black Desert in Jordan. It was in a stone fireplace and had been sitting there for fourteen thousand, four hundred years. Oh, and the popcorn found in Peru. It wasn't quite seven thousand years old, but that's still pretty impressive. Can we have popcorn when we watch the investigation?"

  "Xavier?"

  He stops and looks up at Dean. "Hmmm?"

  "We should get going. We don't want it to be too late when we get back to the house," Dean says.

  "Okay. Sam, remind me next time to tell you about the Egyptian tomb cheese." Xavier walks over to Bellamy and crouches down in front of her. "Goodbye, fetus. The amniotic fluid and layers of tissue between us likely mean my voice is muffled to the point that it's impossible to clearly identify words, but considering evidence suggests language development begins before birth, I don't want you to feel excluded. I hope you had a lovely evening, and that the nutrients your mother consumed will help you grow healthy and strong during these last weeks of the third trimester. I will be in your presence again soon, and will see you in six weeks, give or take two weeks for date of conception and natural variance in gestation."

  He stands up and Bellamy gives him a tight smile.

  "Thank you, Xavier."

  "Goodnight, Bellamy."

  "Night."

  Xavier comes over to me for a hug, says goodbye to Sam, and follows Dean out of the house. Eric and Bellamy follow after, and I gather up the dishes to take into the kitchen.

  Chapter Five

  Sam is going through his various steps of locking up for the night when I get back into the living room with another cup of coffee. I curl up in the corner of the couch and he walks over to sit beside me.

  “Well, I didn't know before that ‘Egyptian tomb cheese’ were words I never wanted to hear together, but I do now. Thank you, Xavier. I also know about bog butter, so that's something,” he says.

  “Bog butter?” I ask.

  “Seventy-seven pounds of three-thousand-year-old butter were found in a bog in Ireland. Historians think it was submerged in the water to preserve it, or possibly to keep it hidden away from thieves. Because apparently, butter thievery was a serious problem three thousand years ago. Now it's in a museum and considered a national treasure. And it's also in my brain, and now in yours as well,” Sam says.

  “Hmmmmm," I say, nodding as I spin my mug back and forth in my hands.

  “Something on your mind?” Sam asks.

  “Did you notice Dean was acting strange tonight?” I ask.

  “Not really,” Sam says. “He was kind of quiet.”

  “He was really quiet,” I tell him. “He didn't say anything. Not after we came in here and started talking about the investigation. It was as though he totally checked out of the conversation. Then when I went in the kitchen to talk to him about it, he was really distracted and kind of short with me.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asks.

  “I just asked him if he was okay and pointed out that he hadn't really been a part of the conversation. He said he didn't think anybody should be up at the campground. That it was abandoned for a reason and people shouldn’t mess with it. And he doesn't know if there's any such thing as ghosts, but if there are, that's the kind of place where they would be.”

  “So, he doesn't think people should go to the campground because he thinks there might be ghosts?” Sam asks.

  I shake my head and turn to look at him. “I don't think that's what he meant. It was as if those were two different thoughts. That he wanted to say something about the ghosts because that's what we were talking about. But this not thinking anybody should go up there wasn’t about that. He didn't say anything else about it or explain why he felt that way. He just finished his coffee, got Xavier, and left.”

  “I guess that's a little strange, but maybe he just doesn't like the idea of paranormal investigations, either. The two of you have both devoted your lives to solving crimes and hunting down people who have done horrible things. I can see how it would possibly aggravate him a little.”

  “Maybe,” I say, “but I feel in my heart there's something more to it. What can you tell me about the campground? I’ve never heard anything about it.”

  “That actually surprises me,” Sam says. “It was a really big story. I remember hearing about it when it first started. Would have been when we were in high school.”

  “I can't remember ever hearing anything about it. I mean, I might have. But if next week is the thirteenth anniversary, then I was in college. I was distracted by what was going on with Julia,” I say.

  “Next week is the thirteenth anniversary of the last set of disappearances,” Sam clarifies. “It started before that.”

  “It happened more than once?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Sam says. “That's why it was
shut down. That's why people call it the Black Campground. I know you're familiar with the national park.”

  “Of course, I am,” I say. “I used to camp there when I was younger, and I hiked there during college. We were just there in December.”

  “The same park,” Sam nods. “But a completely different portion of it. Hollow River Mountain is down past Richmond, a couple of hours from Crozet. It's full of old ruins of houses and little huts for hikers to stay in. But there are also campgrounds for regular camping. Some of them are really modern with hookups for RVs, nice bathhouses, the whole thing. Then there are others that are more rugged with just little cabins and tent sites. Arrow Lake is one of those. It's definitely one of the older campgrounds, but some of the cabins got upgrades in the sixties."

  "Cutting edge," I remark.

  "Oh, pure luxury. Essentially some of the cabins that were rented most frequently added little kitchens and upgraded bathrooms. But for the most part, everything was still pretty rugged. Anyway, it was a really popular place for families to vacation, especially in the summer. It was open all year, which most of the campgrounds aren't. But hikers and really dedicated campers would come to get shelter from the more extreme weather while doing long treks. Anyway, sixteen years ago, a little girl disappeared."

  "From the campground?"

  Sam nods. "She was there with her parents. They hadn't been there very long when she vanished. At first, people around the campground just thought she had run off while playing and maybe got turned around. That happens a lot with kids out camping. Especially ones who are really little or who aren't familiar with the area. But her parents were frantic. Especially her mother, who thought she was with her father when she disappeared. They called the police and there was a huge search. There was no sign of her, nobody had seen anything. They found her body a couple of months later.”

  “Oh, no,” I say. “So, she did wander off?”

  “She might have,” Sam says.

  “What do you mean she might have? What happened to her?”