The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery)

by A J Rivers

  “But you were in the park that whole day?” I ask.

  “All day. We got there in the early afternoon and stayed the whole time.”

  “And you were alone?” Dean asks.

  Allison shifts uncomfortably. “Yes. Vivian’s family had brought us up there a bunch of times before, so Ashley’s and my parents just assumed they would be with us. Vivian’s mom and stepdad thought she was with her dad. We weren’t planning to do anything wrong. We just felt old enough to hang out in a place we were already comfortable with by ourselves. We didn’t want adults hovering over us.”

  Her voice breaks a bit, and her lip starts to quiver, but she takes a deep breath and steels herself.

  “I still feel guilty about it. And for not looking for her. We should have realized something was wrong.”

  An idea comes to my mind. “Dean and I will be up there at the lake the day after tomorrow to continue the investigation there. Would you be able to meet us at the park and show us where everything happened?”

  “Sure,” Allison nods without hesitation. “I’ll talk to Vivian and see if she can come, too.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  When the call ends, I look over at Dean. He has the same expression on his face.

  Something isn’t right about her story.

  Fourteen

  “You are absolutely positive you’re okay and nothing’s going to happen over the next couple of days?”

  I’m holding my phone between my shoulder and ear as I pack for my trip down to the park.

  “Yes,” Bellamy insists. “Everything is perfectly okay. I feel fine and I just went to the doctor this morning. She says as far as she can tell, I’m still not showing any signs of impending labor. Things will take their time for a little while. So, you’re fine. Go do what you need to do.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll see you when you get back,” she says.

  “It better just be you,” I warn her. “Don’t you dare let that baby come without me.”

  “I’ll give her a stern talking-to and make sure she understands Auntie Emma tells her she has to wait.”

  “Do I get to be there?” Eric calls out from the background.

  “If you have to be,” I roll my eyes.

  “Great,” he says. “Thanks for your flexibility.”

  “How are you doing?” I ask.

  “Doing fine,” he says. “I’ve got everything under control. I’m putting the car seat in today. We packed B’s hospital bag. Now it’s just a matter of picking out what she’s going to wear on her way home, and we’re ready to go.”

  Eric sounds completely calm and collected. Which tells me he’s still freaking out. He gets very calm and steady when things are really getting to him. If he’s a little bit upset or things are going wrong, then they’re going to work out, so he can be loud and upset. When they are really serious, he starts to shut down. When Eric gets quiet in a crisis, that’s when you know it’s time to worry.

  “Alright. Well, I’m not going to be gone long. A couple of days, max. Call me if anything happens or if you even think something is going to happen.”

  “We will,” Bellamy says.

  I don’t feel a lot more confident about this trip when I get off the phone. But I try to tell myself I’m only going to be a few hours away. If something happens, they can call me, and I will get to her as fast as I can. But it’s not just worrying about missing the birth of Bellamy’s child that’s giving me pause. I also know what’s waiting for me in Harlan.

  And it’s more than Xavier and whatever complicated, potentially disturbing game he’s playing with my father. Creagan made sure to go over my head and get in touch with the new agent so she knew to be waiting for me today when I go through town.

  It wasn’t that I was going to try to not meet with her or pretend I’d forgotten about the whole thing. I know this is inevitable. But his setting it up makes it feel like a blind date. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

  When my bags are packed and I’m prepared with the basket of road trip snacks I always keep in the car, I call my father and let him know I’m heading out. He mumbles his usual words of wisdom, which are basically the same ones he’s been giving me since I was a little girl. Apparently, his advice is applicable whether I’m trying to jump rope a thousand times without missing, going to my first formal dance, starting college, or investigating serial murder.

  There was a time when he would have started and I would have just let his voice go to white noise because I’d heard it a thousand times before. I might have even tried to cut him off early and hurried away. I can’t do that anymore. After spending so many years without hearing those words, I treasure every time I hear them. Any chance I get to hear my father’s voice, I want to take it. I know too well what it’s like to not have that chance.

  The drive from my father’s house to Harlan is uneventful, and soon I’m in the outskirts where Xavier and Dean live to pick them up. They will ride with me down to the park, and Agent James will follow us. The guys are waiting outside when I pull into the driveway. Xavier waves enthusiastically and grabs the handles of the three duffel bags sitting at his feet.

  I’ve gotten used to his compulsion to obsessively overpack for anything we’re doing. It makes him feel more comfortable. I’ve actually found that sometimes he brings along things I never would have thought of, but that prove useful. As long as I have an extra corner of the trunk and the floorboards are open, he is welcome to bring whatever he wants.

  Dean is much more practical with his single bag and a pillow tucked under his arm. They climb into the car and Dean searches my face.

  “You look excited,” he notes.

  “You know how I feel about this,” I say.

  “About what?” Xavier asks, bouncing forward and leaning around my seat so he can look at me. A second later it seems to sink in. “Oh. The new agent. What’s the problem you have with her?”

  “It’s not that I have a specific problem with her. She doesn’t even matter. I just don’t like the idea that Creagan’s attaching somebody to me. Especially not during an investigation. I don’t need an extra person latching on while I’m trying to solve these crimes,” I say.

  “That’s how you got me,” Xavier points out. “I attached myself to you while you were investigating Lakyn’s disappearance. You briefly considered I might be a murderer, but I still latched myself onto you.”

  “That’s kind of how you got me, too,” Dean adds. “You were figuring out the escape room from hell on that train and I just kind of joined in. And come to think of it, you thought I was a murderer, too, for a little while there.”

  “See?” Xavier says.

  “And remind me again, how did you and Sam reunite?” Dean asks, an edge of teasing on the words.

  “Alright,” I roll my eyes, pushing them away from me as I turn back to the road. “I got it.”

  “Did you ever suspect him of killing people, too?” Xavier asks. “That would give you the full collection.”

  “Not that I can recall,” I shrug. “But my collection is still full.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” Dean says, reaching into the snack basket for a strip of beef jerky. “You’ll probably just meet her, let her follow you around while we check in on the investigation, then you’ll give her your card, tell her good luck, and send her off on her way. Creagan will be off your back and you can go right back to your untamed rebel ways.”

  I glare at him. “Eat your damn jerky.”

  I didn’t want to pick Agent James up at her house. That just feels too familiar and uncomfortable. Instead, I asked her to meet us at the coffee shop in Harlan. I’m not sure what to expect as we pull up. I don’t particularly want to go inside and do the dance of “should we sit down and have some coffee before we go, or do we just hit the road?” Is there a conversation we need to have here?

  I reach for my phone so I can call her to tell her to
come out. Then I realize somebody is sitting at one of the tables scattered on the small patio out front. It’s difficult to see her.

  “Is that her?” I ask, nodding toward the table.

  Dean looks, tilting his head around as if trying to get a better view of her, then looks at me.

  “How am I supposed to know that? I’ve never met her,” he says.

  “Then why would you look?” I ask.

  “Because you asked about her,” Dean says. “It’s just instinct to look in the direction somebody is indicating.”

  “Hey! Are you Agent James?”

  Dean and I look into the back seat and see Xavier hanging halfway out the window.

  “How did he get the window open?” Dean asks.

  “He pressed a button,” I say. “I don’t put child locks on them.”

  “Maybe you should consider it,” Dean tells me.

  “Why?” I ask. “He’s an adult. He can open windows with abandon.”

  “Agent James?” Xavier calls out. “If you are Agent James of the FBI, please make yourself known. If you are not, disregard this comment.”

  Dean gestures toward me and I shrug.

  The woman at the table looks over at the car and stands up. She waves and Xavier slithers backward to drop back down into his seat.

  “I think that’s her.”

  “Thank you, Xavier,” I say. I let out a breath. “Let’s do this thing.”

  We get out of the car and I realize the woman is already almost over to us, moving quickly and smiling widely enough to almost make me take a step back. Her dark hair is pulled up in a bun behind her head, dark sunglasses balanced in front of it rather than over her eyes. A black suit and crisp white shirt are cliche FBI. A cliche I’ve fallen right in line with plenty of times, admittedly, but still a cliche.

  “Hi,” she greets us, already holding out her hand toward me when she’s still a few feet away. “I’m Aviva. Aviva James.”

  “Aviva?” I ask. “Emma Griffin. Nice to meet you.” She takes my hand and shakes it firmly.

  “That’s a beautiful name,” Dean comments. I glare over at him. He’s definitely noticed her big eyes and dark hair.

  “Thank you. It means ‘life,’” she says.

  “Actually, it means ‘springtime,’” Xavier corrects.

  “Xavier,” I say under my breath.

  “Your name,” Xavier continues. “You said it means life. Which I can understand, because it has many of the same sound cues as words that do evoke the concept of life. Vitality. Verve. Vital. Vivacious. Then, of course, viva. Which means live. ‘Vive la France’ and what have you. But Aviva is actually a Hebrew name that means springlike or fresh.”

  “Xavier,” I murmur again. “We don’t correct people about what their names mean. If that’s what she says her name means, that’s what it means.”

  “But it’s not,” he protests.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I hiss.

  “Yes, it does. It’s the meaning of the word. I can’t just say ‘hi, my name is Xavier, it means ‘Lord High Lizard King,’” he says.

  “Xavier,” I warn.

  He looks over at her and holds his hand out. “Hi. My name is Xavier Renton, it means Lord High Lizard King.”

  “Nice to meet you, Xavier. I actually like springtime better for the meaning of my name,” she offers.

  “Good. Because that’s what it means,” he says.

  She shakes his hand. “Hi, I’m Aviva. It means ‘springtime.’ But my friends call me Ava.”

  He looks at her for a second, then at Dean, then me, then back at her. “Was that just an added bit of information, or an invitation?”

  Dean gently guides Xavier to the side so he can shake Ava’s hand.

  “Hi, I’m Dean Steele. I’m a private investigator.”

  “Ava,” she says, shaking his hand.

  “I guess Dean is her friend,” Xavier whispers. “This could get confusing.”

  “You’re Emma’s cousin,” Ava says. Her eyes then snap to me. “I’m sorry. That sounds completely creepy and stalker-like.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. That was really insensitive of me. I should be more careful with my words when I’m talking to someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Someone who’s gone through all the things you have. I shouldn’t just throw around words like that. Or at least give you a trigger warning or something before I’m careless,” she explains.

  “Can you warn someone you’re going to do something carelessly?” Xavier wonders, still in a low voice.

  I’m almost convinced he thinks she really can’t hear him.

  “It’s fine,” I tell her. “If I needed a trigger warning for everything that I’ve seen or been through, there would have to be one on essentially everything I encounter.”

  She laughs. I’m not sure why. A second later she realizes the rest of us aren’t laughing and stops, looking uneasy, but still smiling.

  “I’m really looking forward to today,” she says.

  “We’re going to look through bones and teeth and pieces of people’s belongings that were scattered through the woods and chained to the bottom of a lake by two serial killers,” I say.

  “I know,” she says after a thoughtful pause. “It’s just my first investigation.”

  “You’re not investigating,” I clarify. “You’re shadowing. You’re just there to watch me and get used to things.”

  Dean gives me a slow, incredulous look. A bit of guilt shoots through me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “That was…”

  Ava shakes her head, holding up her hands to stop me. “No. No, it’s fine. I understand. I’m too eager. I won’t get in your way.”

  “Well, it’s a campground. There’s a lot of space. So that shouldn’t be hard,” Xavier adds.

  “Speaking of which,” I say, looking her up and down. “The suit might not fare terribly well out there.”

  Ava looks down. “Oh. Yeah, probably not.” She looks up at me. “I just wanted to look my best when I met you. It’s such an honor. You have no idea how long I’ve admired you. I’ve been following your career since you went to Feathered Nest. You’re such an inspiration to me, and I just can’t believe you’re willing to be my mentor. It’s amazing. I barely know what to do.”

  “Whatever she says,” Xavier says.

  Dean gives the smile he always does when it’s time to step in and be a buffer.

  “Just shadowing her,” he says. “Emma is the best, so just pay attention to her.”

  Ava nods.

  This is off to a splendid start.

  “I’m going in to get some coffee, then we’ll get going. We don’t want it to be too late before we get to the campground. I need some time with the main investigation before we talk to Allison and Vivian.”

  I go into the coffee shop and get the biggest cup of their strongest, darkest coffee. Stepping back outside, I drop my sunglasses down over my eyes and head for the car.

  Fifteen

  “She’s not going to make it a month,” I say the second we get in the car and head out of the parking lot.

  “Why do you say that?” Dean asks. “She seems nice.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “She seems nice. And just a little bit unhinged.”

  “I think that was the coffee,” Xavier shrugs. “I notice at least two cups on the table with her and I can smell it coming off her. Maybe she has a caffeine sensitivity and was feeling jittery.”

  “She was feeling something,” I mutter. “She sounded as if she can barely keep it together.”

  “I think she was a little starstruck,” Dean says. “Did you hear the way she was gushing over you?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say.

  “No, it’s not,” he counters. “You obviously made a big impact on her. And now she’s not only getting to meet you, but see you in action and learn from you. That’s a big deal. Wasn’t
there anybody who you would have had that kind of reaction about when you first got started?”

  “No,” I say. “I had my father. I didn’t need to be impressed by anybody else.”

  “Fair enough. But not everybody has that. It was an awkward start, but give her a chance,” he says.

  It’s eerie to be back at Arrow Lake Campground. This is the first time I’ve been back since we left a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been checking up on the investigation and staying in touch with the people on the ground here over video and phone calls, but other cases have kept me from being here in person until now.

  That brutal night wasn’t long ago, but somehow it also feels surreal. Almost as though it didn’t happen. I step out of the car in the makeshift parking lot set up near the campground and look around. There’s far more life and activity here now than there was the last time I was here. Everywhere I look, there are cars and people and stations set up to process evidence.

  The last day I was here, the team was smaller. Now it almost looks like a movie set. Part of that is simply because of the sheer unfathomable nature of the crimes that took place here. It wasn’t just murder. There were so many more layers. I’m still trying to really wrap my head around all of it.

  But I’m less concerned about how I feel being here than I am about Dean. I look over at him. He’s still standing by the car as if it’s anchoring him. His eyes move slowly around the space, sweeping over the people; flitting over the blue tarps spread out across the ground with their waterlogged mementos of horror lined up across them.

  This isn’t easy for him. He’s the reason I came here in the first place. It started with something inconsequential. Just a TV show. Some supernatural ghost hunters. Something I thought was silly, but the rest of the group wanted to see. I had no idea what it would turn into. How it would unlock a part of my cousin’s life I had no idea even existed.

  I look at him differently now. Not in a bad way. Not that I’m judging him, or that I don’t trust him as much. There’s just more about him. I can’t help but wonder sometimes if I have the whole story now.