“How about you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“It's no secret that you were very emotionally invested in this case,” I say.
“I still am,” he nods. “But I'm retired. There's not much I can do anymore but research and hope.”
“Why this case?” I ask. “I know almost all of us in law enforcement have that one case that really sticks with us and affects us for a long time after it's over, or after we've stopped being a part of the investigation. Is this that one for you?”
“I guess you could say it is,” the detective says. “It was hard on all of us who were involved in it. It's still hard on the guys who haven't retired. I know of several who take their free time every summer to come up here and watch over the campground and explore the woods, hoping they'll figure something out. But for me, there's a personal element to it. My granddaughter was kidnapped six months before Violet.”
"From the park?" I ask.
"No," he says, shaking his head. "She was at a grocery store with her mother. She was only three years old. There hasn't been a trace of her since. As you can imagine, I was still dealing with a lot of shock over that situation, and I'll admit working on Violet’s disappearance was extremely hard on me. I probably should have stepped back from it and not been a part of it, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. I needed to fight for her the way I wanted to fight for my granddaughter.”
“I have to be honest with you,” I say. “Dean didn't think you would be very open to my being here to investigate this case.”
“Dean?” he frowns.
I lock onto Dean’s eyes as he's sitting with Xavier and Ken Abbott. He comes over to me, and I gesture toward him.
“I think you two have already met,” I say. “This is my cousin. Dean Steele.”
“We have met,” the detective says, the bitterness in his voice telling me this isn't a happy reunion. “I had no idea he is your cousin.”
“We didn't know we’re cousins, either, until fairly recently,” I say.
The two men are glaring at each other, and I feel the pressure building up between them.
“I didn't think I would see you around here again,” Detective Fitzgerald says.
“I don't understand why not,” Dean replies. “I was just a witness who gave you information you could have used.”
“Useless information,” the detective counters. “You know that as well as I do.” He turns his attention back to me. “I need to be going. I have the contact information for Violet’s parents if you'd like me to get in touch with them and ask them to meet with you. You could come down to the station and interview them.”
“That would be fantastic,” I say. “I appreciate your help with this.”
“We all have to be humble sometimes,” he says.
His eyes slide over to Dean and hover there for a second before he walks away.
“What the hell was that all about?” I ask once he's gone.
“I told you he didn't believe me. Some of the other officers did, but never Fitzgerald. He was the first one to suggest I might have had something to do with Violet's death.”
I don't like the way his voice shifted when he said that.
“What's wrong, Dean?” I ask.
He stares at me, and I can see thoughts moving around in his eyes. It's as though he's trying to figure out if he wants to say something.
“How do I know where that cavern was?” he asks.
I'm struck by the question. For a second the breath catches in my throat; I don't know if I should try to breathe it in again or push it out.
“You were here,” I say. “You told me that. And you watched the investigation. At least part of it.”
“My friends and I never went to that cavern,” he says. “I would remember being with them there.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” I ask. He stares back at me without answering.
The silence lasts for too long. Finally, I gesture over towards Xavier and Ken. “Let's go see what they're up to.”
I don't like the way the conversation is sitting in my stomach, and I try to push it away as I walk over and sit next to Xavier.
“What's going on?" I ask, feeling protective of Xavier.
“We were talking about equipment,” Xavier says.
“It's incredible what some of these things can capture,” Ken says. “Like the footage Elsie’s camera captured the night she disappeared. She heard singing. Nobody else was around here. The campground was emptier than it is right now. But in the background of her camera feed, there is very distinct singing. You can't hear the words, but there's a tune and the voice changes volume a couple of times. It's not a radio mechanical. This is a human voice singing.”
“And you find that significant?” I ask.
“It might be,” he shrugs.
“You know what actually may be significant?” I ask. “There have been a few times now when I've heard you talk about a curse on this land, or how all of this doesn't revolve just around four years. What does that mean?”
“The deaths in this park didn't start with Violet Montgomery,” he says.
“Of course, they didn't,” I say. “Families lived on this mountain for hundreds of years.”
“That's not what I'm talking about,” he shakes his head.
“Dismal Creek,” Xavier chimes in.
“Arrow Lake,” Dean corrects him.
Xavier shakes his head. “No. Dismal Creek. It's an area of the park. Not much out there. But there are very famous hiking trails and shelters for hikers. Decades ago, two hikers were murdered in one of the hiking huts. The shooter
