“Kind of.” Guilt washed over Daisy’s face and glanced at the floor.
“The guy is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, except for Jace. I hate that superior attitude bullshit. Did you hear what he wanted me to do?” She wanted to kick something.
“He’s a jerk. I’ll let Marshal know, or maybe you should tell him yourself.” Daisy grinned.
“Maybe I will. I’m supposed to meet with him in a little while and tell him what happened yesterday.” Her face burned, but she had to know. “Can I ask you something?”
“I knew it. You have the hots for Marshal. Excellent. Seriously, there is not now, and never was, anything between us. He’s a great guy. Sometimes I wish I felt more for him, but there’s no spark. He’s like my brother. And he’s all yours.”
“I’m not sure I want him.” And she wasn’t. At least not long term. God, what was wrong with her? Was she seriously considering following her sister’s advice?
“Well, just in case you do, I give you my blessing. As if you need it.” Daisy laughed.
Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better. “Don’t mention any of this to Marshal. God, I feel like a teenager. The next thing you know I’ll have a zit.”
“Sister’s honor.” Daisy hooked her pinky and Sydney joined hers in their symbolic act of promise.
“Heard Graham propositioned you.” Marshal motioned to the chair across from him. Too bad he insisted the question and answer session be done in this freaky cabin. She didn’t feel good in here and told him so.
“That’s not uncommon. We’ll try to help you find out what’s going on and figure out how to deal with it.” His words were soothing even though Sydney figured he used the speech often.
“Why do you let Graham tag along? He thinks you guys are nuts and wants to sabotage you.”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Except to say that underneath all that arrogant machismo, he’s a decent guy. I think he put on an act for you, to see if he could get a different angle on the story.” Marshal leaned back on the chair, his T-shirt stretching over his stomach and chest. Sydney forgot to breathe.
“Why are you defending him? What’s he got on you that you don’t want out?” She’d meant the question as a joke, but when Marshal’s expression glazed over, she figured she’d hit a nerve. Interesting.
Marshal shook his head as if he took the statement like the joking she’d meant, but the unmistakable current of tension told a different story. She allowed him to change the subject and recounted the events of yesterday afternoon.
“So where were you when it touched you?”
They were standing in the bunk room. She pointed to the wall closest to a neatly made up bunk.
That bed had to be Graham’s. All the other beds were a mess of sleeping bags, clothes and personal items. “You moved the bed. I was here.” She pointed at a spot near the head of the immaculate lower bunk.
“We had to. The rain dripped in there. Poor Graham was getting wet. I couldn’t sleep with him whining above me.” He cringed a little as if he knew telling her the cabin leaked would overload her already-packed repair list.
“Oh. I didn’t realize it rained last night. Sorry.” She ignored that the neat bed belonged to him because she wasn’t sure what it made her feel. As she turned to show him where she’d stood yesterday, icy-cold tendrils wrapped around her. Her breath came out as a fog and she shivered.
Marshal held up a piece of equipment around her, circling her as he shook his head and grinned. Finally, the freeze lifted. Her shaking did not.
“Is there anyone here who’d like to speak?” he asked over and over with pauses like someone would actually answer, moving the tiny tape recorder in a slow sweep around the room.
He patted her shoulder as he passed. “Let’s go.” He motioned, allowing her to exit first.
She re-seated herself at the table, waiting as Marshal grabbed a briefcase and sat down. The smile on his face was a testament to his love for his job. “Want to hear what we recorded last night?”
He moved a laptop to the center of the table.
Sydney nodded, not sure if she really did. Snoring and shuffling blared through the speakers and Marshal fast forwarded the recording.
“I’m here. Where are you?” The female voice sounded disjointed, and the hair on Sydney’s neck stood.
“Margaret?” The response seemed to come from farther away.
“That’s pretty much it. There’s a more, but we ran out of time to clean up the track.” Marshal still grinned.
“Creepy. I thought you weren’t going to set up equipment last night.” She hadn’t meant for that to come accusing. She didn’t care what he did.
“We weren’t. Until we were getting our beds ready and the window opened and closed by itself. Twice. So we turned on a camera and a recorder. The video shows the window opening one more time, we think. We haven’t had much time to analyze it. Dave thinks there’s a shadow. Usually it takes us days to go over all the information.”
“Why days?” She had to admit the process intrigued her.
“We check and double-check. Sometimes triple-check. Listening, a second at a time, to eight hours of usually nothing is a bit draining.” He marked the CDR they’d just made with the date and put it in a plastic case.
“I can imagine. Can we listen to that?” She pointed at the disc.
“Do you want to?”
“Why not? What made the room so cold?” She waited as he inserted the disc.
“You want me to say a spirit, but the truth is I don’t know for sure. The temperature changed. There might be a cave underneath and a draft came through the floor. Say there is a cave, ice chunks are breaking loose, and getting caught somewhere a few feet down? Hard to say. Okay, it’s ready.” He pressed ‘play’ and she leaned forward.
He asked the same question he had when they were in the bunkroom, the silent space in between felt like hours. No wonder it took them a few days to go over the evidence. Just when she thought she’d die of boredom, Marshal got an answer to his question.
“Margaret? I’m here. Where are you?” the same voice from the recording they’d just made whispered.
Sydney figured her shock showed by the smile on Marshal’s face. The recorder had stayed on the table between them the whole time. There was no way he could have altered the evidence.
“Did I say creepy already?”
“I know. Are you still willing to sit with me tonight?”
Why did his simple question sound like an invitation for sex? Was that just her, or was he flirting?
“I’ll do it as long as you don’t scare me on purpose.” And she was flirting right back. She was pathetic.
“I would never do that. Now tell me what you know about this ground.” He flipped his notebook open.
“My grandfather’s. He passed it to Daisy and me when he died, with the stipulation that we give the campground business at least five years before selling. His evil second wife somehow managed to get the lawyer to add that we have until this season to open for business and then she kept the rights tied up until last week.”
“Ah. Something tells me there’s bad blood,” he said.
“Not just bad, poison.”
“We’ll go there in a minute. Why did your grandfather insist you re-open the campground?”
“I’m not sure. He wanted Daisy and I to continue with the family legacy, I think. As much as he bent to Violet’s demands on everything else, he stayed firm about this place for the most part. Daisy and I spent every summer here, and a lot of the off season, too. He taught us everything from how to run the campground to how to dredge the pond. He wanted us to carry on the tradition. He said that constantly. The property has belonged to a Brook’s son for about three hundred years.”
“Wh
y didn’t your dad take over? That seems to be the pattern.”
“Dad is some kind of weird throwback. As much as he loved coming here, he’s deathly allergic to bee stings, mosquito bites, and poison ivy. Gramps used to just shake his head and say something messed with the DNA. Dad’s the only one in the family with those allergies. Daisy and I can roll around naked in any kind of poison and never get a bump. So could Gramps.”
His eyebrow rose. “Do you and Daisy often roll around naked in poison? I’d like to see that.”
“Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” Her face felt hot.
There were those sexy eye crinkles again. Damn.
“Anyway. We were the only Brooks’s left. Gramps knew we loved the place. He made sure we did. Two months after the wedding, Vile Violet proclaimed that we weren’t welcome here again. She wanted Gramps to turn Brookside into a casino.”
“Ouch. Obviously, he didn’t want that.”
“No. In fact, I think that was what gave him his first heart attack about a year after they were married. The business went downhill with his health, a slow decline. I think he wore himself down trying to keep her happy and make sure he kept Brookside viable for us. She was and is so adamant that this town needs a casino. That’s where we are right now. Most of the town wants the campground, others think a casino would be a great idea.”
“How long was the campground closed?” Marshal asked.
“About five years. Gramps wanted Daisy and I to take over after his third heart attack, but Violet convinced him we needed to live our own lives before being stuck here. She admitted that when she contested the will. She was right, but Daisy and I would have come had we known how bad things had gotten around here.”
“Were there ever any reports of paranormal activity that you can remember?” His pen poised over the notebook.
“You mean freaky shit?”
“Yeah. Freaky shit.”
“Well, Daisy and I used to think we saw stuff all the time, but the older we got the less we thought that. I don’t remember much with the guests. Wait. A couple rented one of these cabins the last summer I was here. It was late afternoon and the lady was alone. She said there was a man in the room and when she screamed, he vanished. Gramps thought she might have had too much to drink. He said she smelled of liquor. I guess that’s not what you mean.” Sydney didn’t want to tell him anymore than that. Her current experience had to be enough. Dredging up the past wasn’t something she wanted to do.
“It’s exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t happen to remember which cabin?” Marshal’s hope nearly unglued her careful composure.
“I don’t, but I can find out. I have all of Gramps’ business files and the guest logs he insisted on.”
“Wonderful. Do you know any of the area history?”
“Only that the woods were supposedly occupied during the Civil War. We’re far enough from Gettysburg that I rarely see mention of the area. I’m not sure any battles were fought here. There’s also talk that this area was part of the Trail of Tears. I haven’t verified that.”
“I assume Vile Violet is your step-grandmother?” He wrote the name, including Vile in his notebook. Maybe she shouldn’t call her that anymore.
“Yes. She’s wicked to us, but to be fair, she treats her family well. I don’t know why she hates Daisy and I so much.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but what kind of rules did she put on you and Daisy re-opening the campground?” Marshal asked.
“Well, she took us to court after the reading of the will. And after tying our inheritance up for over a year, the judge approved her new conditions, as if she hadn’t made Gramps agree to enough before he died. We have to pass a weekly progress inspection, have to live onsite, and Daisy and I both have to be here at least until we open. I think she did that because everyone knows Daisy has no interest in being here. Gramps left us enough money to be successful, but she managed to find a way to keep us from accessing most of the funds until after we reopen. We’re working on a shoestring budget. And then there are the terms of sale, including the money we lose if we have to sell to her . . .” She pressed her fingers to her temples. Her head hurt just thinking about it, but she gave him the rest of the lowdown anyway.
“That’s kind of brutal. So every week after Memorial Day, you lose ten grand if you decide to sell? And you have to sell to Violet if you quit before the five-year mark?”
“Gramps agreed to most of the terms before he died. I think that was his way of challenging us and making sure we gave running Brookside a fair chance. Violet has first rights. That’s what doesn’t make sense. If we sell before May, the price is fair. Why would they try to get us to sell now?”
“Maybe they’re only trying to make things difficult for you to delay your opening. Who’s Jace?”
“Violet’s grandson. I’ve never met him, but he’s a major ass.” She never wanted to talk to him again.
“Does he know we’re here?” Marshal scribbled in the margin of the page.
“He has to. Why else would the cabin be trashed and a beer can left behind?” She tried to ignore the male influence on the cabin. A pair of orange boxer shorts hung on the bathroom doorknob. Why hadn’t she seen them before?
“Maybe you should meet with him? Find out exactly what he and his grandmother are up to.”
She turned toward Marshal, her back to the boxers. “I’ll break his teeth if I see his face.”
Though, Sydney had to admit, she’d thought about calling a meeting with Jace. Maybe she could appeal to his logic and make him understand how important honoring Gramps was to her and Daisy.
“Understood. I’m not telling you what to do, just a suggestion from a neutral party.” Marshal had a funny twist on his mouth, like maybe he thought he’d overstepped his boundary.
“No problem. Do you need me for anything else?” She pushed her chair back and stood. Halting at the devilish grin he now wore. His eyes made her think of sex and so did the little quirk of his mouth.
Marshal shook his head. “We’ll set the equipment up a few hours before dusk. I want to start with the pond and the bathhouse tonight. You do realize it’s going to take us a long time to cover the whole place?”
“Yeah, Daisy explained how you operate. Why the pond first? I figured you’d start with this creepy as hell cabin.”
“The tractor is gone now. The pond was disturbed. Sometimes renovations and that kind of stuff will draw the spirits out. We run equipment in here constantly. Take a nap and bring your open mind.” He stood and went with her to the door. His nearness made it difficult to remember what he’d said.
Sydney thought about turning around and pushing him back into the cabin and locking the door behind them. She laughed at her stupid self. Like she’d ever have the guts.
As she went toward her cabin, faint laughter met her ears. At first, she thought Daisy had finally lost the crappy mood she had earlier, until the eerie sound surrounded her along with a rush of cold air.
CHAPTER 4
Daisy watched Graham do laps around the bathhouse. He seemed distracted and talked to himself.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she stopped and leaned against the wall. Graham faltered as he approached, reaching his hand to his side and pulling out a tape recorder. Holding the device up, he stopped in front of her.
“Brainstorming.”
Daisy nodded. Her roommate in college was a writer. As she waited for him to turn off the machine, she tried to figure out why Graham made her sister so crazy. Was it because he was truly a jerk, or maybe her sister was far too attracted and used her anger as a shield?
“You make my sister nuts. Why?” Why bother sidestepping what she wanted to know?
“I don’t do it on purpose. Well, okay, maybe I do. She’s fun angry and I had to f
ind out if she was willing to give Marshal a chance without interfering.” He leaned against the wall beside her.
“Why? I thought you and Marshal were at odds?” Something else was going on here.
“No. It’s a good way to get a better feel for how people will react to paranormal activity. I am a skeptic, but more like Marshal. I write ghost stories. Some based on real events. I’ve definitely seen some things that add to the old muse, but I’m not saying I believe in this stuff. I am really looking forward to this investigation, though. Did Marshal tell you about the cabin last night?”
She shook her head, confused and interested. Why was she seeing a different side of him? Was he playing her? But why? The way his eyes lit up when he described the cold air and voices only confused her more. She wanted to hate him as much as her sister did, but couldn’t find it. What she did feel worried her.
Graham was handsome, in a perfect GQ kind of way. Not her type, so why did her stomach flip when he leaned forward in his excitement? For a brief moment, she could only think of kissing him. Sydney would have a heart attack.
And then there was Tucker. Flirting and making outrageous comments. She wanted to ask him about the baby, but every time she opened her mouth, one of the crew appeared. Who would have thought their quiet campground life would suddenly fill up with more testosterone than either of them could handle? She wondered how Sydney managed her interview with Marshal. Daisy wished Sydney would get over herself and jump Marshal’s bones. Maybe Daisy should do the same with Graham.
Daisy held the extension cord for Marshal as he connected the equipment. Setup was always exciting and she realized how much she’d missed working with these guys.
“Sorry I didn’t make it over to talk to you this morning.” She gave him the slack he requested and moved forward.
“No problem. Your sister gave me a lot of information. She’s not like I pictured.” He didn’t look up, and Daisy wished she could see his face.
Prelude of Lies Page 4
