“Whose turn is it?”
“Yours? Don’t forget to miss.”
She lined up the shot, the scenarios that rushed through her head making it impossible to concentrate. This little game needed to end before things went too far.
Sinking the rest of the table, she leaned against the side trying not to laugh.
“You didn’t miss.” He pouted with sexy lips.
“We’re still even.” How many beers had she consumed to make her this bold?
“That we are.” He moved closer, filling her senses and making her crazy.
“In private,” she warned him off, not that anyone paid attention.
“The storm’s over. The weatherman said there’s about two hours before the next band hits. The next bunch of storms is supposed to be the worst yet. Doesn’t sound good,” Kay called from the kitchen.
“We need to get back, assess the damage, and see if we can prepare for the worst. What if the roof leaked again and your equipment is wet?” Anxiety overrode her sex drive.
“We do need to go. Though the equipment should be fine. We locked it in the van before we left.”
That relaxed her a fraction. The last thing she needed was a claim against the insurance for what was probably tens of thousands of dollars of Marshal’s ghost-hunting equipment.
Gathering beer bottles, they all pitched in to help Kay clean up. By the time they said their goodbyes, the place sparkled and Kay hugged each of them.
“Come in as soon as you can and let me know how the storm treated Brookside. I’ll worry until I hear from you.” Kay crushed Sydney in a tight hug.
“I promise.”
Kay moved on and Sydney turned to Marshal. “Where’s Dave? Did he leave?”
They’d all consumed several more beers than necessary. She’d been so involved in their game that she hadn’t paid a bit of attention to Dave. Of course, she got the feeling he preferred it that way.
“Dave’s still here.”
Dave held the keys up with a wink as he came out the door and Sydney wondered why she’d ever worried about these guys joining them at Brookside. They were wonderful and that wasn’t the beer talking.
In fact, Sydney felt fine, only a tiny bit tipsy. Maybe the heated innuendo and sexual bets had rushed the alcohol through her system.
The gates to the campground were lying on the ground. They would have to be repaired first thing in the morning. The last thing they needed was curious folks wandering in to see what they were doing. As the headlights cut through the darkness, she made out several downed trees. Besides the standing water everywhere, the campground seemed okay.
But it was still dark and more rain was expected. A lot more rain.
Lightning streaked the sky as a reminder the storms were coming back and long and low thunder rumbled across the sky. The whole scene—the brief bright view of the campground with the woods dark and looming—freaked her out in a way she couldn’t describe easily. Something felt wrong at Brookside and she didn’t know why. The campground had never scared her before, even after her horrible experience in that damned spooky cabin and her adventures trying to rescue the still missing and apparently injured dog.
The cabins appeared ominous as Dave stopped in front of the one the guys inhabited. She moved to get out of the vehicle when Daisy touched her arm.
“What is that?” Daisy pointed out the window to Sydney’s left.
Four ghostly figures moved through the trees. Like the misty forms they’d watched at the pond. Sydney couldn’t make out facial features.
The misty forms stopped at the clearing, the one in front holding his hand up in a signal to wait. He—Sydney assumed the form was male—looked back and forth before taking a step.
Another figure stepped out of the trees and toward them. The new presence was very different from the faceless mist that appeared to be on some type of journey.
A grisly face pressed against the glass of the opposite rear window, and she screamed.
Horror and evil, the mouth opened in a silent scream and eyes of red cast a gruesome glow over the interior of the van. Her fear vanished as she realized she was looking at a mask.
“That’s it.” Fury prompted her to jump out of the vehicle and rush around to the side where the “creature” teased them. Grabbing the cloth at the neck, she didn’t let go. Even when it spun and spurted what some kind of red, thick liquid from the gaping mouth.
“Knock it off, asshole. You’re stupid if you think any of us bought your little scheme.” She reached and grabbed off what she suspected. A rubber mask.
The bewildered face under the gruesome visage wasn’t one she recognized. As Marshal grabbed the guy from the back, twisting his arms behind him and making him grunt, Sydney looked for the rest of the ghostly bunch.
“Where are your friends?” she commanded, her tone hopefully conveying that she’d stand for no bullshit.
“What friends? There’s no one with me.” Scared. Young. And a little bit of attitude.
“We all saw them. They followed behind you in the woods. They took off when you tried to scare us.” Sydney was sure he lied.
“Come on. You have some explaining to do.” Marshal dragged him toward the cabin.
“I’ll call the sheriff.” Daisy moved into the clearing with her cell phone, the only place they seemed to get a decent cell phone signal after dark.
Dave followed Marshal, his expression the same as it’d been all evening, a mixture of boredom and apprehension. Sydney, not for the first time, wondered what his story was. Now alone and still furious, she hoped for a glimpse of the intruder’s cohorts.
What she saw wasn’t what she expected.
The ghostly figures moved right past her. Their shoulders slumped as if their journey threatened to suck the life out of them. They paid no attention to Sydney, even when she reached out and came up with nothing but air.
Oh.
CHAPTER 8
The sheriff couldn’t come right away due to trees blocking several roads, and a whole bunch of emergencies, all of which were more important than their teenager in a scary mask. They were to hold their prisoner and nothing else until he arrived. At least they had electricity. For now. The impending storm was moving in sooner than expected if the lighting and thunder were to be believed. Sydney paced the tiny front porch of Marshal’s cabin, not sure what to do.
Her anger got the better of her and she went inside. “Who put you up to this?” She stopped inches from the kid.
“N-No one. I don’t know.” He appeared scared, but that did nothing to ease her irritation.
“Oh please. Don’t lie to me. Start talking or . . .”
Marshal grabbed her arm and moved her away from the scared punk. “You can’t threaten him. Take a walk. Now.”
Sydney complied. Only because he was right. She was acting like a jerk. Going inside to confront the kid had been stupid. What was wrong with her?
This had to be something Jace cooked up. They’d tried to be careful letting anyone know Marshal and his crew was in residence, but Jace probably found out when he appeared here the other day. She shouldn’t be surprised.
She wasn’t really. But the nerve of Jace Levine.
Oh, she’d meet with him all right.
Headlights finally swept through the trees marking the arrival of the sheriff. She stepped down to greet him, another of Gramps’ lifelong friends.
He hugged her, releasing her with a sympathetic smile. “You girls sure are having the trouble.”
“You know it, Frank.”
“Everything’s going to work out. You’ll see. You two will do this and make Del proud. As much as I hate to say it, I think you’ll do better than old Del. The community wants Brookside back, not a casino. The people of this town do
n’t want that kind of change and the clients that kind of place would bring.”
“We’re doing our best.” She fought tears.
“I know you are. Most of the whole town is behind you. It’ll happen. Now, let’s go have a word with your creepy visitor.” Frank’s heavy shoes echoed through the pre-storm quiet.
Sydney followed, nodding when Daisy held her finger to her lips. Usually their roles were reversed. Sydney was always the cool head. Not this time. Why she’d gotten so worked up over something she was certain had been going on the whole time was beyond her.
“So, young man, why are you here?” Frank opened his notebook after reading the kid his rights.
“I don’t have to talk to you.” The kid had to be about sixteen.
“No. You don’t, but things might go easier on you if you do. And these pretty ladies might not press charges if you cooperate.” Frank nodded to where Sydney stood by Daisy.
Sydney took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the rage knotting her stomach. It helped a little, but it wouldn’t take much for it to come back.
The kid regarded them for a few seconds before moving his attention to Marshal and Dave. His gaze rested on Daisy before he lowered his head. “Some guy stopped me at the arcade and asked if I wanted to make a hundred bucks.”
“What guy?” the sheriff asked calmly.
“He didn’t tell me his name. Just said he wanted to play a practical joke on the people staying here. He said it was all in fun and that they’d laugh. He sounded like he knew everyone here.” The kid seemed even younger, and scared. Sydney softened.
“What did he look like?” Frank wrote the description and Sydney was disappointed that it didn’t sound the least bit like Jace. Damn.
She wished it was Jace wearing a disguise, but when the kid said the guy was stick skinny and like a skeleton with skin, she knew there was no way.
One of his cronies. Maybe. Damn. Why couldn’t it have been Jace? Who else had a vested interest in making them leave the campground?
No one. And that was the problem. It had to be Jace. Or Violet. Her temper rose again, but she tamped it down.
“This guy someone you’ve seen before?”
Good for Frank. Sydney definitely hadn’t thought of that.
“Once or twice. I think he lives in the trailer park off Liberty Road. His daughter, April, is in my class.”
“Last name.”
“Jones.”
“You friends with her?”
“Kind of. She’s quiet. Doesn’t really talk to anyone. Just sort of there. She only started school after Christmas. I don’t know where she came from.” The kid shuffled his feet a little, but met Frank’s eyes.
“Who are her friends at school?” Sydney wasn’t sure why Frank asked about the teenager. Unless it was to find someone he could ask about her family.
“She doesn’t have any that I know of. I’ve never seen her in the halls with anyone. She’s always got her face in a book.”
“That’s sad,” Sydney commented.
“I never thought about it, but you’re right.” The kid looked at Sydney and for a minute she thought he was playing her to make sure they didn’t press charges. When she saw no deception in his eyes, she nodded.
“Well, Mr. Jackson, I’ll take you home.” Frank closed his notebook.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked Frank, his eyes on her and Daisy.
“Don’t know yet. I need to verify your story and then the rest will be up to the property owners.” Frank waited for the kid to adjust his huge cloak.
“I am sorry. I hope you can believe me. I thought this whole thing was a joke. The guy made me think you all were friends and that you’d laugh. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have taken his money. This place is really creepy after dark.” He held a wad of cash out toward Daisy.
“Keep the money. As long as Sheriff Frank feels you’re as much a victim as we are, there won’t be charges.” Daisy looked at Sydney and she nodded. “And make friends with April. She’s new and probably lost. She could probably use a friend.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Frank smiled and touched the brim of his hat as he escorted their teenage spook out the door.
“Do you think Jace paid that guy to do the job and he passed it on to the kid?” Daisy stood at the window and watched Frank leave.
“Could be. I can’t believe we’re not supposed to mention this to Jace.” Sydney went to the door.
“Let Frank do his job,” Marshal said, his attention out the side window.
“I never said I wasn’t going to. I always listen to Frank.”
Daisy snorted. “Yeah. Always. Except for when he tells you not to call him any more about the stray animals you’ve found wandering the campground. And when he told you not to try to stop the state workers from spraying that section of highway that borders this land.”
She waited. Surely, Daisy’s stories would bring more questions than she cared to answer. Except they didn’t.
“Guess what, though? Frank is retiring in a few weeks. He promised to let the department know our situation and that they better look out for us. I’m sad,” Daisy said.
“No. That stinks.” She sighed. “I’m going in.” She walked away, hearing Marshal approach even though she didn’t turn around. Unlocking the cabin door, she went in but left the door open.
“Did you come to collect?”
Marshal leaned against the door frame, his bulk nearly filling the space. “Not tonight. You’re too stressed. How’d you know that ghoul was a fake?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t.” She had a hard time believing that. Especially since he’d pegged the first night destruction of his cabin as a prank.
“I knew. I saw him sneak up to the car from behind us. I just wondered how you figured it out.”
“Ghosts, no matter how scary, probably don’t have hickeys on their necks. The makeup job was pretty poor. I guess for what he thought he was doing, it was pretty darn good, especially for a kid.”
“That it was. I didn’t see the hickey until you ripped his mask off. That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you though.” Marshal didn’t move and she wondered if he meant what he said about not collecting on their bet tonight.
“What then?” She sat at the table.
“Before he showed up and after. You saw them, all of them, didn’t you?”
She knew what he talked about, but didn’t understand why he questioned her and asked him. Hadn’t everyone seen the ghostly trio?
“We all saw them at the beginning. The second time Dave didn’t. Daisy didn’t either. She watched you from inside and called me over when you reached out. She couldn’t see what you tried to touch and neither could I then.”
“They were there. I couldn’t touch them. Three men, their shoulders sagged like they were defeated. I felt their misery, felt that their journey held a lot of pain and sorrow.” Why was she accepting her experience so readily?
“I wonder . . .” Marshal shifted but didn’t leave his spot. “You said you thought the Trail of Tears may have traveled through here. I think you might be right.”
“Oh.” Sydney stood, then sat quickly. “That’s the impression I had. I don’t know how to explain it. But I could feel different things. Anger, pain, regret, betrayal. There was a lot of helplessness and worry. One of the travelers buried his wife a few hours before. Oh.”
How would she know that?
Marshal only stared. “For someone who spouts off disbelief of the paranormal, you have a deep understanding. People who can absorb the emotional energy of the spirits around them are rare. I would have never guessed.”
“Neither would I, because that’s not true. It was just an impression I had. Kind of like seeing the sky and knowing it’s probably going to rain.�
�
“Exactly. What about in the cabin? What did you feel then?” Marshal finally sat down across from her.
“Scared.”
“Besides that. What went through your mind?” He grabbed her hand, the warmth there offering some comfort for her chaotic mind.
“Frustration, and not my own. It was different somehow. Desperate. Like someone I loved was lost. I was sad. I figured the feeling was because of Gramps and how much I miss him. They left, but not on purpose and there was no peace. What?”
Marshal smiled. “You’re gifted. No wonder you yell so loud about not believing. What you can do scares the hell out of you. Can you talk to them?”
How had he figured her out so rapidly? She didn’t know what to say. Or think. Should she continue denying the truth, or allow him to see the depth of what she’d tried so hard to hide from everyone? Including herself?
“I haven’t tried for a long time. In fact, I thought all of this had left me. Until we came back here.”
“What happened in the bathhouse that you hate so much?” Marshal leaned forward, clearly interested.
Sydney didn’t think he meant her extended janitorial duties.
“Suicide. She’s a young woman. She has bruises all over her body. She smells like liquor and vomit. She died in the last shower stall. The one with the broken tiles. Her wrists are slit wide open. When I see her, I can see the brief moments before she used the blade and then she’s dead. She took a whole bunch of pills and washed them down with booze before cutting herself.” She shivered at the disturbing image.
“You tried to talk to her.” Marshal rubbed her palm with his thumb.
“She doesn’t hear me. I tell her it’s over. That she should follow the path, but her eyes are blank and nothing ever changes. I read something once about the hell people who commit suicide have to endure before they can move on to a better place. Do you think that’s true?”
She shook her head. “There’s no way to know.”
Prelude of Lies Page 9