“But why the pattern?” Xavier asks.
“What pattern?” I ask.
“Violet was just one person. The next year two disappeared. The next year, three. And then the final year, four.”
“I noticed that, too. But I don't know if there's a significance. The pattern doesn't repeat with the bodies found. Both the first and second year, one body was found. The third year, two bodies were found. But then the fourth year, none. It's a pattern, but that doesn't necessarily mean it has significance. It's something to keep in mind, but I don't want to get too wrapped up in it."
I move some of the papers aside so I can spread out a large map of the area. “Let's pinpoint where each of the victims was seen last, and where each the body was found.”
We spend the next few minutes going through all the case files and using every bit of information we can find to identify where the victims were last seen alive, then where their bodies were found. I'm hoping to find some sort of pattern, some sort of easily recognizable cluster that will indicate… something.
Only, there isn't anything. The only similarity the death scenes have is that they are in the general vicinity of the Arrow Lake Campground.
Dean tilts his head and examines the map for a few seconds. He points to the one marked Cabin 13.
“This is Violet’s cabin?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“This is the basic area where my friends and I had our tents set up,” he says, indicating a portion of the woods. “Which means I saw her somewhere around here.” He points out another location. “There wasn't much time between when I saw her and heard her scream, and when the people found me. At least, I don't think there was. So, how was somebody able to get her and get her all the way over here without anybody noticing?”
He indicates the location of the cavern where her body was found. It's a good distance from both the cabin area and where Dean saw her in the woods.
“He must be really familiar with the park and be able to move through the back areas,” Sam says.
I look at the location Dean pointed out again.
“Wait,” I say. “I've seen that spot. It's in her file. Hold on.” I sift through the papers and find what I'm looking for. Putting it down onto the map, I show them the picture of the shoe they found on the log in the woods and a sketch of where it was located in relation to the cabin. “Doesn't this look like the same area?”
“It does,” Dean nods. “What is this?”
“It's a shoe the investigators found when they were searching the area for Violet. They thought it might belong to her, but her mother said it wasn't hers. Their father couldn't identify it. But Carrie Montgomery was absolutely insistent it didn't belong to her daughter."
Dean looks confused.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
He opens his mouth as if he's going to say something, then closes it again and reaches for the picture. He turns it around so he can look at it straight on, and his expression darkens.
"Has the Bureau already contacted the rangers handling the case? Detective Fitzgerald, the park authorities, all of them?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say. "Creagan told them I was taking over the investigation."
He nods. "We need to go."
"What?" I ask.
"We need to go to the campground. You have authorization, right?"
"Just let me pack. We'll stop by your place on the way."
I head for the bedroom while Dean starts collecting the papers off the table.
"You want to share what's going on with the rest of us?" Sam asks.
I stop and turn around to look at him. "We're going to Hollow River Mountain."
"You have all the evidence right here," Sam protests.
"We need to see it. I need to be there.”
"Emma, it's dangerous out there.”
"Have those words ever stopped me before?" I ask.
"I can't go with you," he says. "I can come in a few days, maybe, but not now."
I cross the room to him again and cup his face in my hands to kiss him.
"I'll be alright. This is what I do."
"I know," he says.
"Dean, I'll be ready in twenty minutes. We'll stop at your place and go to the campground in the morning."
Chapter Twenty-Three
“It's eerie up here,” I mention as we pull into the campground the next morning. “It looks as though it should be full of people.”
“It should be,” Dean tells me. “It used to be. At this time of year, all these cabins would be reserved. There would be tents on the tent pads as well. There were always people. Day and night. Families would be down on the beach playing in the water. Sunbathing. Hiking. At night, they’d sit around campfires and tell stories. Drink beer and go skinny-dipping. It was never quiet.”
“We don't have to do the skinny-dipping part, do we?” Xavier asks.
“No,” I chuckle. “I don't think that's necessary to get the impression of the place.”
“Good,” he says. “Not that I'm inherently opposed to the idea of nudity in water. After all, I do appreciate a good bubble bath. But you don't know what's in that lake.”
"Fish, salamanders, maybe some algae," Dean shrugs.
"The Kraken," Xavier says, staring out over the lake in the distance.
"Oh, is that where we are now?" I ask.
"You know how I feel about the potential existence of sea monsters," Xavier deadpans.
"Yes, infinite potential for species and teeny human brains incapable of perceiving all existence, and whatnot. But, Xavier, that's not the sea. That's a lake," I say.
"So is Loch Ness, but you don't hear Nessie bitching about the technicalities."
"You know what? We're up here hunting ghosts. Why not throw some cryptids in there, too. If we have time after dinner, we'll look for the Yeti."
Xavier's eyes snap over to me. "Do we get to hunt ghosts?"
Before I even answer, he yanks his bag out of the back of the car and opens it.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He pulls out the
