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

by A J Rivers

  Instead, I climb to the top of the waterfall and look out over it. From the vantage point, the surroundings are breathtaking. They are also exactly what I thought they would be. I sink down to sit on the rock and watch the men there with me.

  Xavier carefully walks over stones that lead across the water while Sam crouches at the edge of a shallow pool near the side and fills his hands with water to splash over his hair. Dean picks one of the rocks jutting up out of the middle of the rushing creek and sits down so he can dip his hands in the water.

  I open my phone and look at the images of the waterfall from Adrian's project. There are several of them, dating back far into the history of the mountain and tracing forward. Adrian took a lot of care to find pictures that were taken from as close to the same angle as possible, to show the changes of the trees and the rush of the water. But it also highlights how people behave when they come to a waterfall.

  In three of the images, a young man stands at the top of the falls and looks out over the water just as I'm doing. I can only enjoy it for a few seconds, then I make myself pull up the last picture. It's a map showing the location of the skeletal remains found scattered in the woods. I rest the tip of my finger on the map where a symbol indicates the waterfall.

  Darkness is starting to gather at the edges of the trees, and I call down to the guys.

  “You ready to head back?” I ask.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Xavier asks.

  “I think so,” I say.

  It's almost dark by the time we make it back to the cabin, and I go to the desk as Sam and Xavier start putting together something to eat. Dean comes into the room.

  “What did you find?” he asks. “I know you figured something out.”

  “Do you remember coming here when you were little?” I ask.

  “I think so,” he nods. “But it's those kinds of memories that you are pretty sure you have, but you're not totally confident about them.”

  “I think that's the way most of them are when you're little,” I say. “For instance, I know I went camping with my parents. And I knew we were in this park sometimes, but I don't remember a lake. I don't look around and get any impression from here.”

  “I do,” Dean says. “I think that's why I came back. I was pulled back here by those memories.”

  “Why did you come that summer? You said you were with your friends and nobody else knew you were here. Why did you come here?” I ask.

  “Growing up wasn't easy for me,” he says. “You know that. I was going through a lot and struggling to deal with it all. And instead of finding constructive ways to deal with it or looking for help, I did everything I could to escape. That summer my mother was trying to get me more under control. She could see that I was getting older and it was just going to get worse if I didn't straighten up. What I saw was a hypocritical addict trying to force me to do what she never wanted to do. So, I pushed back.

  “We had a fight one night. Looking back on it now, I realize it was probably the same kind of fight we all have with our parents. Maybe there was a little more of an edge to this one because of the realities of who my mother was and the dynamic of our relationship, but it wasn't anything extreme. Only, that's the way I took it.

  “I walked out of the apartment and went to my nearest friend's house. I said we should come out here and camp for a few days. He thought it was a great idea, got a couple more of his buddies, and we headed out without another thought. We brought tents, some clothes, and beer. It was everything we figured we would need. We could steal anything else we needed. All I wanted was to be out here. I didn't really know why, but I needed to be.

  “Now that I really think about it, I realize it's probably because I remember being happy here with my mother. Before things got really bad for her. Before things were as scary as they got. We would come here and have fun together. I remember there was another family who was here when we were all the time. I don't know how she knew her, but Mom seemed to be pretty good friends with the mom. They were always happy to see each other and sit together on the beach while the group of us kids played.”

  “How many kids?” I ask.

  “A bunch,” he says with a laugh. “I don't even know. They weren't all from her family. There was a bunch of us who would get together and play. Then we stopped.”

  “Stopped playing?” I frown.

  “Stopped coming here,” he clarifies. “One summer we just didn't come anymore. I asked my mother why and she wouldn't give me an answer. It’s why I wanted to come back.” He shakes his head slightly. “I haven't thought about that in so long. Probably maybe a year after that picture of you and me. I was seven or eight the last summer we were here.”

  I open up my computer and scroll through a few of my saved searches to find a specific article. The picture on it is a little bit grainy, but it's clear enough for him to see.

  “Is that one of the friends you played with?” I ask, showing him the picture without letting him see the headline.

  It's the picture that came to mind when I saw the one of Dean and me together, but it had taken a while for it to piece together. He looks at the image for several long seconds and nods.

  "Yeah," he says. "I think I remember him. Wait, what's that article about?"

  "A boy who drowned in the lake."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Dean looks as if the words physically struck him. He blinks hard, trying to bring himself back into reality; he narrows his eyes at me.

  “Drowned?” he asks. “What happened? Who is that?”

  “The article doesn't provide much information. It says that, at the family's request, no name or personal information was to be distributed. From what I read, incidents like this weren't sensationalized or even really brought to the attention of the public very often. The park didn't want the bad press. As long as it seemed to be nothing more than an accident, it was often just skipped over. One bit of information they did release, though, was the date the drowning happened.”

  Dean looks at the article and his jaw goes hard as he sees the date. I get up and head for the front of the cabin. Getting my backpack, I stuff a few things into it, then put my gun around my waist.

  "Where are you going?" Dean asks.

  "I'll be back," I tell him.

  "No," he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You aren't going out there alone."

  "I'll be fine," I insist. “I need to go. Elsie's life might depend on it.”

  “Then I'm going with you,” he says.

  “No,” I tell him. “You cannot come with me. Dean, listen to me. You cannot go out there.”

  “What's going on?” Sam asks, coming into the cabin.

  “I have to go check something,” I say. “I have all the supplies I need. My flashlight. My gun. My walkie-talkie. I have everything. I'll be back.”

  “You can't go alone,” Sam frowns.

  “Yes, I can. Dean needs to stay here. Xavier can't be out there in the dark. He'll get lost. I need you to be here and be ready if I call you,” I say.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I go without your help,” I say.

  Sam takes a deep breath to calm the frustration boiling under the surface. “Are you sure, Emma? This can’t be safe.”

  “Sometimes what's safe and what's right aren't the same thing,” I say. “I shouldn't be gone too long. Stay close to the walkie-talkie and be ready to head out.”

  He looks irritated, but I can't let it stop me. I kiss him, wave at the other two, and step out into the darkness.

  “Wait,” calls Sam, following me out the front door.

  I snap my head around. “You’re not going to stop me!”

  “I know. I just want to say I love you. Be safe.” He kisses me and heads back inside.

  “I love you too.”

  It takes me a second to really orient myself and remember how to get down to the main campground. Everything around me is unbelievably still and quiet. I can hear every crunc
h of my feet on the ground and every breath in and out of my lungs.

  I try to ignore those sounds and listen to what's going on around me. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I walk. I don't want to turn on my flashlight unless I absolutely have to. I don't want anybody to see me before I want to reveal myself.

  The haunting images won't leave my mind. The deeper I walk into the woods and the more unnerving my surroundings get, the more I try to think about the photo of Dean and me together. So many years before we even met each other, we were still pulled to one another. Something put us together that day.

  And it makes me even more confident in what I know about my cousin. I know who he is. I know his heart. I know he's not capable of these things.

  In the thickest part of the trees, I reach into my bag for my flashlight and find one of the cameras Xavier brought with him. I recognize it’s for night vision and send up a quick thanks to the universe. The screen still produces some glow, so I don't want to use it too much, but it allows me to see what's around me displayed in shades of green and black.

  I keep going until I see the break in the trees ahead. I put the camera away as I approach the mouth of the path, then step out into the campground. It's a clear night, and there's enough moonlight for me to see the abandoned cabins and empty fire pits spread out across the space in front of me. I walk down the path toward the lake.

  In the older pictures, there's a pier. It stretches out into the water and welcomes visitors to take one of the boats off the rack on the beach and paddle out into the lake. That was the one thing that was dismantled of the campground. Support beams still stick up out of the water, but the rest is gone.

  And in its place is a dark figure standing waist-deep in the water.

  Around me, the sound of the water washing up on the shore and the rustle of the wind through the trees is punctuated by soft singing drifting in from the lake. It's the sound that was captured on Elsie's camera in the moments before she went missing.

  I walk slowly toward the edge of the water and watch the figure sway slowly back and forth, sweeping her fingertips through the surface of the water as she sings. Suddenly, she pauses. I don't know if I've made an inadvertent sound or if she can just sense I'm there, but she turns around.

  The moonlight isn't strong enough for me to see the exact look in her eyes, but I can see her small smile.

  "Agent Griffin," she says. "How nice for you to come to visit us."

  "Hello, Laura," I say. “How are you doing tonight?”

  “Wonderful,” she says. “Why shouldn't I be? It's almost time for the wedding.”

  I nod slowly. “Your son's wedding?”

  “Of course,” she nods. “I've been waiting so long. I didn't think it would ever happen.”

  “Until you found him the right girl, right? I remember you said that. That you found him a nice girl,” I say.

  “Yes,” she says. “I looked for a long time. I didn't know if she would ever come. But then, there she was. As if she’d been waiting for him as long as we’d waited for her.”

  “Elsie,” I say.

  Laura nods. “She came right to us. She stood right there, nearly where you are, and talked to us. It's been so long.” She looks around. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “My son,” she says. “Where is he? He needs to hurry. We're all waiting for him. It won't be long now before his bride is ready.”

  “Are you talking about Aaron?”

  “Yes,” she says. “He's finally home. He knows I've been getting everything ready for him. Where is he? Where do you have him?”

  “I don't have him,” I say.

  “You do,” she snaps. “Don't lie to me. I saw him with you.”

  Her voice has lost its soft quality, and the smile is gone from her lips.

  "Laura, listen to me," I try to calm her down.

  "No. You listen to me. Aaron is a special boy. My special boy. He's not for you. He deserves someone just as special as he is," she says. "That's why I found her for him."

  "The same way you found the others?" I ask.

  She nods. "Yes. I couldn't let my boy be alone. He needed toys and friends, a family to be with him. So, I did that for him. I made sure he had everything he could need. So, he would be happy. I love my son."

  "I know you do, Laura. And that's why you let Adrian take all those pictures of him over the years, right? You wanted to show him off."

  She nods again, the anger disappearing and the happy smile returning.

  "He took pictures of my sweet Aaron doing everything he liked most. He loves this mountain. He'd been gone for so long. But then he came back. He came back, and I knew I had to make sure he had everything he needed right here."

  "And you thought he needed friends who liked the same things he did, right?" I ask. "Like camping and the swimming hole."

  "They needed to be just like him. So they would get along and he would be happy. "

  I want to tell her the truth, to point out her son is dead. But this isn't the time. She's not ready to hear it. Right now, I need to get her out of the water so we can start to unravel what really happened.

  “Laura, why don't you come out of the water? Come up here with me and tell me more about Aaron,” I say.

  “You don't need me to tell you,” she says. “You know him. But you need to let him go now. You understand that, right? It's time for him to come home. Everyone's ready for his wedding. All we need is him.”

  “Then come with me to find him,” I offer. “We'll get him and make sure he's all ready.”

  She shakes her head.

  “No. I have to be ready for Elsie. She'll be here soon.”

  “Laura, where is Elsie?

  “I suppose she's getting ready. Getting married is a very important thing.”

  I nod.

  “I know,” I say. “I'm getting married. Look.”

  I hold up my hand to show her my engagement ring.

  “It's lovely,” she smiles. “Who's the lucky man?”

  “His name is Sam,” I say. “He's very nice. I could take you to meet him. Then maybe you could take me to Elsie, so I could see her dress. I haven't picked mine out yet.”

  She shakes her head. It's as if something has spooked her. She takes a step deeper into the water.

  “No. No, I need to be here. The guests are here. I have to be a good hostess. I'm the mother of the groom," she says. "Soon, they'll be here, and we will all be together."

  My skin crawls, but I don't let her see. I'm not getting anywhere with her, and the longer we stand here, the worse the situation is getting. She's starting to get uncomfortable, starting to shift her weight and look around anxiously. She's becoming unstable, and the flash of moonlight off metal in her hand when it briefly lifts out of the water tells me I need to be careful.

  My gun is on my hip, but I don't want to reach for it yet. If I can get her to come out of the water and to Sam, this can end peacefully. That's what I want. There's been enough tragedy here.

  "Laura, come on. Just take my hand and walk with me," I say.

  "No," she says more adamantly this time. "I'm not leaving them. I need to be here for Aaron. He'll be so happy when he sees everyone here for him."

  I draw in a breath.

  "Where are they?" I ask. "Where is everyone?"

  The smile spreads wider across her face.

  "They're right here."

  "Can I meet them?"

  She nods and takes several more steps back in the water, then dips down until the surface of the lake just brushes along the center of her throat. A look of concentration crosses her face for a brief second before she starts walking toward me again.

  Laura stops a few feet from the shore and lifts her hands. The black water slides away, revealing chains draped across each palm. A curdled breath chokes me, and one hand flies to cover my mouth, the other pressing to my heart as my eyes trail down to the bones attached to the metal links.

  Chapter Thirty
-Three

  Silt, underwater plants, and bits of debris cling to the bones. After so many years in the water, there's no more flesh, but long hair drapes down from a skull toward the bottom of one of the chains. The strands float on the surface of the water and catch the moonlight.

  “Every year I brought more,” she says. “When he was a little, I made sure he had toys, things to play with. But as he got older, I realized he would need friends. I gave them to him.”

  “What about Violet?” I asked.

  An upset expression flickers across her eyes and she shakes her head.

  “No,” she says. “Not that precious little girl. He wouldn't play with someone so young. I don't know what happened to her. It makes me so afraid.”

  Her hands lower back down to dip the chains and bones back under the water as I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I look around and see Dean coming down the path with a determined stride.

  “No,” I call out to him. “Don't come down.”

  “No, Emma,” he says. “You're not dealing with this alone.”

  “Dean,” I protest, “you need to go. It isn't safe here for you.”

  “Go back to the cabin, Emma,” he says.

  “No,” I say.

  He's headed down to the beach now and Laura's eyes light up when she sees him.

  “You're here,” she smiles, almost beatific.

  “Dean, you need to go.”

  “Get out of here,” he repeats. “Get away from her.”

  “You're in far more danger than I am," I say.

  Laura looks confused and maybe even a little hurt.

  "You think I could hurt my son?" she asks. "He's only just come home."

  Dean nods and steps closer to the edge of the water.

  "Come on out," he says. "Let me help you."

  "They're all here," she tells him. "The people who love you. We want to celebrate with you."

  "I saw them," he says, nodding encouragingly. "Thank you."

  * * *

  "You should be getting ready," Laura admonishes him, a new note of concern in her voice. "Your wedding will be starting. Soon you'll be with your beautiful bride and we'll be a family."