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

by A J Rivers

  “It was a pretty horrible situation. I can't imagine why anyone would want a kid involved in that,” Dean muses.

  “Seems the rangers agree. They won't allow any identifying information to be available and nothing in the case mentions any specifics about the witness. Of course, there are notes that the statements weren't considered reliable at the time, too,” I say.

  “But that makes it even more interesting,” Xavier says. “That makes me want to know more about the witness. Who was it? Why would someone make something up about something like that? Why would anyone go through interviews with the police if he or she wasn’t going to get any notoriety for it and was still not believed? And if maybe the person was just exaggerating or elaborating a story, what did he or she actually see?”

  "I haven't found anything from the other people who were interviewed that said anything about the witness specifically. The guy who was staying next door, Adrian Slatton, didn't have much to say after they interviewed him at his cabin. I mean, he was cooperative. He talked to them every time they wanted him to and was apparently totally forthcoming with them. He just hadn't been there long and didn't get out and do any searching like some of the others did. He was there doing a photography project, and apparently got really wrapped into that."

  "I'm surprised they let him continue working on it while they were searching the area," Dean points out.

  "I am, too. But with no specific evidence of a crime, I guess they couldn't really just say no one was allowed to use the park. The campground was still open. The rest of the park was still open," I say.

  "Who else did they talk to?" Xavier asks.

  "Laura Mitchell is a woman who was at the campground with her children. The first interview described her as frantic. She was absolutely terrified that there was some child snatcher running around the campground while her two boys were there."

  "Did either of the boys know Violet? Maybe they played with her?" Xavier asks.

  "No. They were thirteen and fifteen at the time. So, not exactly the same age range as Violet. But Laura was freaking out anyway. Said as soon as her boys heard about the little girl going missing, they insisted on going out to look for her. She was terrified something was going to happen to them."

  "Did the police ever talk to either one of them? If they weren't witnesses, the case files might not protect them because of their age."

  "I don't think so. I'm guessing she scooped those boys up as soon as she got a chance and left. The police talked to a few other people who were at the lake and in the area when Violet went missing. There was a married couple who were celebrating an anniversary a couple of cabins away. They think they might have heard the scream that Adrian was talking about. But they interviewed the family that was down on the beach near the lake and they didn't mention a scream at all.

  “There were also different reports of what she was last seen wearing. Of course, these people didn't know her. It wasn't as if they were friends or family or anything. But they remembered seeing her. At least, they thought they did. Someone described what she was wearing, others described her bathing suit, but there were at least three different descriptions of a bathing suit.

  “In fact, there were different descriptions of what she was wearing altogether. There was one person who knew exactly what she was wearing, another person got the general idea of it, but had a couple of details wrong. Nothing significant. The kinds of things you would mess up if you saw somebody from across the way. But this mystery witness's description was the one that really stood out. It didn't make sense. It was really different from the descriptions the other people gave, and at odds with the clothes Violet was actually wearing when her body was found. I think that contributed a lot to its being judged unreliable. I mean, there were some basic similarities. Shorts and a t-shirt. That kind of thing. Just not the right colors,” I say.

  “That doesn't necessarily mean anything,” Xavier counters. “Eyewitnesses are notoriously inaccurate, especially if they are young and they experienced something traumatic. If this was a child who watched another child get snatched, he or she could easily get confused or be influenced by what the kidnapper was wearing.”

  “That's true,” I say. “It just stood out to me.”

  “Xavier,” Dean says. “Time to eat.”

  “I'll see you when I get there tomorrow,” I say.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you sure you're ready for this?” Sam asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “It's been a while, but I think… I think I can handle it.”

  “Are you sure? Because we don't have to do this. I know how this can be for you, and if you don't feel emotionally prepared, I'm here for you.”

  “Sam, stop that,” Janet says, coming into the room with a platter of the incredible mushroom and onion mini quiches that have become a mainstay on the Game Night menu. “There's no need to tease your future wife. Just because she happens to be the only FBI agent in the world who can't successfully play a game of Clue.”

  She rolls her lips together to muffle the laugh I know is bubbling up inside her because it's already burst out of Paul's mouth.

  “Thank you so much for the endorsement,” I say. “But I'm not the only one. I've known plenty of other agents who aren't exceptional at certain board games that are largely about luck and guessing.”

  “Oh, there's got to be some sort of support group for you,” Paul says.

  I make a face at him. "I'm considering starting one." I lay out all the game pieces, then take a bite out of one of the quiches. “All right, let's do this thing."

  "You know,” Sam pipes up several turns later, "maybe we should have games at our reception."

  I raise one eyebrow at him.

  “I am not playing ‘Pin the Garter on the Bride’ with your grandmother,” I say.

  “No. I mean like this.”

  “As in, turn our reception into one big game night?” I ask.

  "Yeah. Monopoly, Life, Scrabble. We'll even throw Clue in there if you're feeling particularly brave that day," he says. "Have them set up around the venue on tables and the guests could choose what they want to play."

  I think about this for a beat and nod. "I'm into that."

  Sam smiles at me and plants a kiss on my shoulder.

  “We could even set up Twister,” he grins. “That could be a fun thing you could do with my grandmother.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He guffaws as I grab the tiny lead pipe to set in the observatory.

  That night Sam slides into bed next to me as I'm rubbing lotion onto my hands and along my arms. I smile at him as he settles in and grabs for the book he has on the table on his side.

  "What's that smile for?" he asks.

  "You realize that talking about a Game Night reception is the first actual plan we've made for the wedding?" I ask.

  The smile ventures onto his lips. "I guess it is."

  "It feels kind of good, huh?" I ask.

  He raises up and kisses me. "It does." He looks down at his book. "You know, we could do a lot more of that. There are a few more decisions we need to make."

  "A few," I admit with a laugh. "But can we just keep making maybe one every week or so? That way we can keep enjoying it."

  "Well, that would have us actually getting married in ten years or so. Bellamy would murder you. But it would mean their daughter could be our flower girl, so she might forgive you," Sam says. “Posthumously.”

  "Yeah, she is very wedding forward."

  "Then why isn't she pushing Eric to get married?" Sam asks.

  "That's one of the great wonders of the universe, babe," I say.

  "You mean mysteries?" he asks.

  "Nope. I mean wonders. She has been right feisty lately."

  He laughs. "Bellamy aside, I don't think I could wait for the next ten years to marry you. I've already been waiting since you were seven. Don't you want to be married to me?"

  "Of course, I do," I say, wriggling down in the blank
ets so I can cuddle up close to his side. "I've been waiting since I was seven, too. But I just also really like being engaged. Can't we do both?"

  He laughs and looks over at me. "I don't think it works that way."

  "It could. We could keep going like this for a while, then when we decide we're done, we get married, but don't tell anybody so we can keep acting as though we're engaged," I say.

  "So, your solution is an elopement and lifelong deception," he says. “We don’t get our big party, no fancy toasters, no smashing cake in each other’s faces. And Bellamy would still kill you because she wouldn’t know. Kind of sounds like the worst of both worlds.”

  "Probably not lifelong deception," I counter. "Just until we decide we're done being engaged and have the big wedding ceremony. That could take us ten years if we wanted."

  "Well, if it's only that long," he cracks, kissing me again.

  “Oh, and one more thing?” I ask.

  “Hm?”

  “Let me be absolutely clear: I am smashing cake into your face. Not the other way around. There is no way I am spending all that time and money on a face full of makeup for you to ruin.”

  “What’ll you do if I do it anyway?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about what I’ll do. Worry about what Bellamy will do.”

  That draws a hearty laugh from both of us, and we lean in for a soft kiss as each of us wipes away the tears of laughter.

  He puts the book down beside him and turns off the lamp before nestling down with me. I curl into the nook of his arm and rest my head on his chest, happy to just relax there until sleep comes, however long that takes.

  The next day, Sam and I go to the station to meet with Noah White, the detective we worked with when we first came to Harlan to investigate the disappearance of internet star Lakyn Monroe. The war room we set up during that investigation is still there. The pictures are different now. Rather than being surrounded by images of Lakyn from her various modeling jobs, or stills from her internet videos, the room is now filled with crime scene photos from the cornfield and the Order temple.

  But she isn't completely gone. One corner of the room has an image of her tucked among images of Millie, Lydia, Andrew, and Gabriel. It's still hard to look at the picture of Gabriel. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel when I see his face. He's grinning in the picture, an image we took from the grocery store employee board after realizing he had no social media still active after his death.

  I remember that smile. I saw it so many times when I went to the grocery store and went down his lane. I made an effort to get in his lane whenever I could because of that smile. He was happy and welcoming. So incredibly young and full of life. Even when he first came to Sherwood and started working at the store because his grandmother was sick, he was able to be cheerful and friendly.

  I don't know why he was there or why he ended up in Harlan. I don't understand why he was behind the wheel of the car that nearly ran me over or why he shot Millie. I don't understand why he took the deadly cyanide pills before I could even get to him after he smashed into a telephone poll seconds after the murder. And I don't understand why he had the key Greg left me.

  The Harlan chapter of the Order of Prometheus collects victims. Gabriel could easily be one of them. They manipulate and turn people into weapons for their own gain.

  But they also create monsters.

  I don't know which Gabriel was. But I am determined to find out.

  Sam and I are there with Noah to keep trying to unravel the case. From the outside, it might seem that something like this is simple. We know the Order is behind the deaths of every person in those pictures, including the victims whose bones have still not been given back their names. We even know whose hands destroyed the individual lives of the people used as pawns to show loyalty and create unbreakable bonds.

  It should be easy to just show that and solve the case. But it isn't that easy. Facts still have to be proven. Details have to be revealed. Even with confessions, photographs, and witnesses, there still has to be enough that a lawyer whose entire job it is to get wealthy, influential people off for horrific crimes can't slither through cracks.

  So here we are. Sealing up those cracks. Finding the absolute proof, the bits and pieces of evidence that pile up together until it is irrefutable. It's not easy. But we'll keep doing it. We'll do it until we find the members of the Order who fled. Until we find the twisted links to the Dragon. Until they're all brought to justice.

  We end up staying at the station longer than we thought we would, and I'm juggling trays of cookies as I jog up the walkway to Xavier's house. He texted twelve times over the last hour but didn't tell me what was going on. The door opens as I get to the bottom step of his porch, and he rushes out to me.

  "Have you heard?" he asks.

  "Heard what?" I ask.

  "Elsie is missing."

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Elsie is missing?" I ask, making sure I heard him correctly.

  "Yes," he says with an emphatic nod. "Elsie Donahue from the investigation. Ken Abbott's partner. They just announced she's missing."

  We go inside, and I set the cookies on the kitchen counter. Containers of Chinese food fill the dining room table, but I'm not thinking about eating. I'm still processing what Xavier just told me.

  "When did she go missing?" I ask.

  "The night of the investigation," Xavier says, taking plates out of the cabinet and handing them to me. "That's why the stream stopped so suddenly. When they went down to the lake to find her during her solo investigation, she wasn't there. Look, I have the announcement up."

  We head over to his computer, and he presses play on a video already pulled up on the screen. Ken Abbott looks drawn, his stare dark as he looks into the camera.

  "I didn't want to have to make this video. For the last few days, I've been hoping I wouldn't have to. That we would be able to resolve the situation without anybody ever knowing what was going on. Unfortunately, that is not how this is working out. We wanted privacy and the police requested things be kept quiet, for what I'm sure you will understand are obvious reasons. The situation, however, has gotten to the point that withholding the news is no longer an option, and I must share with you that my co-host and very dear friend, Elsie Donahue, has gone missing.

  “Those who were watching our live investigation the other night for the thirteenth anniversary of the last disappearance from Arrow Lake Campground likely noticed the stream ended abruptly. This was at the direction of the police, who were already at the scene to look into the discovery we made at the cavern where the body of Violet Montgomery was found.

  “Earlier in the evening, Elsie had complained of not feeling well. She wanted to stay down by the lake to breathe in the air. Those who've been watching for awhile or are familiar with us from our investigations and private tours know how strongly my dear friend believes in the energy held by water. She believes in its healing properties and often sought out the water when she was not feeling well physically or had experienced something particularly mentally and emotionally taxing. That seems to have been the case the other night.

  “After telling other members of the team she wasn't feeling well, Elsie said she was going down to the lake to do some further investigating. This isn't unusual. In fact, she is truly exceptional at connecting to spirits in a very personal way and gathering powerful evidence. Considering the extremely emotional nature of the deaths and disappearances associated with the campground and surrounding woods, I believe she was in the best position that night to collect our most compelling evidence.

  “I spoke with her myself and did express my concern at her being alone. However, she reminded me that we frequently do solo investigations, and she was perfectly comfortable. Just before we got off the phone, backup police officers arrived at her location, which put me more at ease. However, now, considering the turn of events as they have unfolded, I can't help but wonder if I was actually experiencing some sort of premonition when I told
her I was concerned about her being alone. As this is an open investigation, there are details I'm not able to share. What I can tell you is we went to the lake to find her, and she was not where she said she’d be. Her camera was on the ground, and we later discovered it streamed several moments of just the water.

  “A thorough search of the area turned up nothing. I hoped she had simply returned home because she wasn't feeling well and that I would hear from her. However, that call never came. She didn't respond to messages or phone calls. She wouldn't answer her door when we went to try to see her.

  Finally, we had to take things a step further. A welfare check at her home revealed that she was not only not there, but she hadn't returned from the campground. She has now officially been declared missing. As you can imagine, this is an extremely distressing situation for me as well as for the entire team. I refuse to let myself go into a dark place over this. I won't refer to her in the past tense. She is out there. She will come back. I ask that all of you keep her in your thoughts.

  “The police and the park authorities have asked me to remind everyone listening that Arrow Lake Campground is closed and no one is allowed access to the area. All parking lots for the campground are closed, as are access roads. Paths and trails leading into and around the area are blocked off and should not be used. Anyone who enters the area can be arrested and charged with trespassing.

  “I know many of you don't like the idea of just sitting around and waiting for her to be found. You're worried about her and know the critical importance of finding her as soon as possible. You have the compulsion to go out and look for her yourselves. Trust me, I understand. I feel the same way. I'm with you. But I have to ask you not to give in to that compulsion by coming out to the park. They are very serious about arresting anyone who is found in the area. We also have to accept that too many people in the area where she went missing could contaminate the scene and make it even more difficult to find out what might have happened to her.