Ghost Trapper 13 The Trailwalker Read online

  “It sounds like you're ready to start selling the place to parents,” I said.

  Josh chuckled. “We've already been at it. Nineteen campers are reserved for our opening week in June.”

  “You think you'll be ready by then?” My eyebrows climbed skyward.

  “We'd better be! Who wants the ten-cent tour?”

  “I think your wife gave us that yesterday.”

  “Did she show you the dining hall? I could whip up some waffles. We've got the latest in waffle irons.”

  I glanced at Stacey, who nodded vigorously.

  “Good. That'll give me an excuse to make one for myself.” He led us past the main lodge to the dining hall, low and long, mostly hidden in the woods, its wall made of enormous logs.

  A wooden porch of a loading dock faced the parking lot; Josh unlocked one of the double doors and led us into a sizable kitchen, most of it shiny and new, some appliances still wrapped in thick plastic.

  “How do you like your waffles?” He took a bag of mixture from the cabinet and unclamped it. He looked at Stacey a moment, then said: “Let me guess—blueberry waffle. Topped with honey.”

  “Sounds great.” She nodded sagely, as though she'd carefully weighed his proposition and found it reasonable.

  Josh looked at me, then nodded. “Raspberries.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “They're straightforward. No nonsense.”

  “And blueberries are what? High nonsense?” Stacey asked.

  “They do have that Violet Beauregard reputation,” he replied. “But blueberries can be sensible, too.”

  “They're high in antioxidants.”

  “Good example.” He was already at work, adding fresh berries before spooning the goopy white mixture onto the hot waffle iron. He was eager to describe the waffle iron's many advanced and unique properties to Stacey, who was either genuinely interested or too polite to act otherwise.

  I drifted out of the kitchen, past the serving counter to the dining area. It had the same feel as the lodge, old hardwood floors and narrow windows and exposed rafters. CAMP STONY OWL was painted on the wall above a giant aerial photograph of the owl effigy.

  The long tables and benches didn't look comfy, but they could seat dozens of muddy campers and just pretty much get hosed off afterward.

  The windows were open, letting the cold morning breeze pass through, probably trying to erase the musty shut-in odor. The early daylight was lightening up the dark blue sky. A scattering of birds whistled and cawed at the breaking day, though it didn't seem like many considering we were surrounded by forest. A shivering squirrel climbed nervously along a limb outside, keeping a wary eye on me.

  “Chow time, campers!” Josh announced. He carried a tray with two plates of waffles, one featuring blueberries and the other with raspberries. He set them out on the table along with forks rolled in napkins. “I offered coffee, but Stacey said y'all wouldn't want any.”

  “No, thanks, we've been up all—”

  “I don't touch it anymore, either. Too many days of guzzling the stuff all morning, then wondering why I couldn't sleep at night. Swore it off a couple years ago. Now I jog in the morning—same wake-up jolt, but in a healthier way.”

  “That's smart.” Stacey arrived with thick plastic cups and a carafe of orange juice.

  “Thanks, Mr. Conner,” I said. “This all looks great—”

  “Hey, call me Josh, you're making me feel old here. I'm not going gray yet. Am I?” He touched his carefully arranged blond hair.

  “Sorry, I didn't mean—”

  “I'll be back in a flash.” He returned to the kitchen while Stacey and I started in on our waffles. They were tasty, as various forms of sugary fried bread dough tend to be, and I was suddenly hungry.

  “Who wants a little waffle booster?” Josh returned holding a can of whipped cream. Stacey volunteered.

  “None for me,” I said.

  “I knew you were the no-nonsense one.” He added cream to Stacey's waffle, then sat down to eat his own breakfast, a bowl of what looked like dried oats and twigs. “Which makes me wonder how you ended up doing this kind of thing.”

  “You mean the paranormal work?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Ghost hunting. What's it all about?”

  “Sometimes people have problems with the supernatural, or suspect they might. We help them figure it out.”

  “And how do you do that?” He took a spoonful of oats and sticks. They crunched loudly, painful to hear.

  “It depends on the case. Our most important tool is knowledge. If we know why an entity is present, we can help it move on.”

  “And what exactly do you think is present here?” Josh was smiling when he spoke, but his eyes seemed a little hard, like he was examining me under the pretense of casual friendliness. I've probably worn that look myself, questioning witnesses to try to draw information out of them.

  “We don't know just yet,” I said. “Allison told us she's heard things around the main lodge and seen things in the caretaker's cottage where you live. Have you experienced anything abnormal since moving out here?”

  “I sure have,” he said. “I've seen my sons hammering and sanding and painting instead of drooling over their phones. I've seen more than a hundred different kinds of birds. I've seen the sunrise and the sunset every day, and not through a windshield while commuting.”

  “Yeah, it's pretty great out here,” Stacey said, as if she didn't find the place spooky at all.

  “Have you observed anything similar to what your wife described?” I pressed on, not getting distracted by his inspirational-poster description of things. “Strange footsteps? Shadowy figures?”

  “White sheets with eyeholes floating around?” he asked. “Little green men? Bigfoot? No, I haven't seen anything like that. My wife wanted to have paranormal investigators come, she found you, I wasn't going to argue. Whatever sets her mind at ease. I just don't want to scare the kids. That's my main concern.”

  “I understand your daughter reports seeing people around the campground,” I said. “People nobody else can see.”

  He laughed. “That's just Shy. She's always making things up.”

  “Do you think your wife is making things up, too?”

  His easy smile tamped down slightly. “I didn't say that. Look, this is an unusual place for her. For all of us. We're accustomed to the city life. Being out here in the wild is an adjustment. It's easy to get scared in a strange place.”

  To me, that sounded like the long way of saying he didn't really believe her.

  “What about your other kids, the older ones? Has either of them seen anything?” I asked.

  “The boys?” He was barely smiling now. “How's your waffle?”

  “Good,” I said, leaning back a little, like my stomach had grown too big to keep under the table any longer. “Amazingly good.”

  “So how much longer do you suppose all of this will take?” He gestured between Stacey and me. “This whole haunted house caper?”

  “It's hard to predict. It could take several days to collect data and determine a possible course of action—”

  “Days?” he asked. “Several days?”

  “That would be typical.”

  “I thought you'd be out of here sometime today,” he said. His big smile was back.

  I wasn't sure how to respond, so I picked my words carefully. “We are only at the beginning. We haven't even tried to collect data from your family's house, where your wife saw the big shadow figure. We certainly haven't resolved the situation.”

  “So you're planning to stick around awhile.”

  “That's up to you and your wife,” I said. “If y'all want us to keep investigating, that's what we're looking at.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  “Room and board can get pricey on these out of town cases.”

  “But he's got waffles,” Stacey said, before forking up the last bite of hers. “I'll work for waffles.”

  “Josh?”
Allison emerged from the kitchen area. “I thought you were down in boy town.”

  “I will be. You want a waffle? Or some Stoneground Oaters?” He gestured at his cereal with a spoon.

  “I'd rather not break my teeth.” She grimaced at his cereal. “Anybody else want coffee?” We all shook our heads, and Allison sighed before going to the giant steel urn behind the counter. “How did it go last night?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “We collected some very compelling data,” I replied.

  “You didn't mention that,” Josh said.

  “We were much too dazzled by the waffle iron and all that it created,” Stacey said.

  “Oh, Josh is very happy with that waffle iron,” Allison said.

  “Stacey will bring in her computer to show you as soon as she's done with her waffle,” I said.

  “But I'm already done with my—oh, okay.” Stacey headed for the door.

  By the time she was back, Allison had swept by to clear away our dishes.

  “They say they're planning to stay for days,” Josh said. “We have to pay their hotel fees.”

  “Or we could camp!” Stacey suggested, because of course she did.

  “You're welcome to stay in one of the girls' cabins,” Allison said. “They're ready to go.”

  “Sounds awesome!” Stacey said. “They are really pretty—”

  “We should stay on the boys' side,” I interrupted. “It sounds like there's possible activity over there.”

  Stacey and Allison both winced at this idea.

  “You bet! I'd recommend Wolf or Falcon Cabin. Definitely not Bobcat or Warthog.” Josh chuckled. “Not unless you're really into roughing it.” He eyeballed Stacey's laptop suspiciously as she pulled up files.

  “So here's what we found.” I pointed at the thermal camera footage. “Over a period of thirty-three seconds, this cold spot appeared, filled the attic, then shrank away again.”

  “Well, we know the lodge gets cold,” Josh said.

  “We also caught two objects moving without any clear reason.”

  The video showed the rolling wagon, then the old ball shifting a little.

  Allison took in a sharp breath. “This is right over the office, isn't it?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “The floors in this place are all warped.” Josh said. “Round things roll. We need to be rational about this.”

  “Sure,” Allison said. “And the noises I've been hearing up there for weeks? And the thing in our room? Is that all just me being irrational, Josh?”

  “Hey, sorry.” Josh held up his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

  “You said you would support me on this,” Allison said.

  “I'm supporting, I'm supporting. I'm just worried about scaring the kids. Should we tell them these ladies are here to make a promotional video for the camp? That will explain all the cameras.”

  “Though probably not why there's one in our bedroom,” Allison said.

  “Just set that one up while we're all away at the cabin site.” Josh nodded like he was confirming this to himself. “Yep. That'll work.”

  “What do you think?” Allison asked me.

  “I was actually hoping to ask your kids if they'd seen anything,” I said.

  “Ephraim might have,” Allison said. “He keeps telling me he thinks the whole campground is eerie—”

  “Ephraim was a complainer before we got here,” Josh said. “Nate hasn't complained at all. He likes it here.”

  “If Ephraim said the sky was blue, Nate would say it was red,” Allison said. “Nate's just not as sensitive as Ephraim.”

  “Nate's a go-getter. A hard worker. We need more Nateness around here, if you ask me, and a little less Ephraimity,” Josh said. “So is that all? The attic's cold? Something moved up there? What does that prove?”

  “We also recorded a voice.” I nodded at Stacey to play it.

  Allison stared at the soundwave graph on the screen as the high-pitched shriek sounded from the speakers.

  “That's not—” Josh began.

  “Play it again,” Allison said.

  Stacey did, the odd shriek filling the room again. And again.

  “That could be a bird,” Josh said.

  “It is not a bird. I'm tired of you telling me it's my imagination. I'm tired of trying to tell myself that. I am not crazy.” Allison's voice hadn't risen too much, but her eyes smoldered like they were about to burn holes into Josh's face.

  “Okay, hey, I never implied you were crazy,” Josh said. “We're having it investigated. They're here. Right? I want to put you at ease about this.”

  “Which, again, makes me sound crazy.”

  “I didn't mean—”

  “Forget it.” Allison looked at us. “We're moving ahead with this investigation. Feel free to do whatever you have to do.”

  “Just give us a chance to keep the kids out of the way,” Josh added, and I nodded.

  After breakfast, Allison went back to rejoin the kids. Josh helped us carry our belongings from the van to our assigned cabin on the boys' side—Wolf Cabin, identified by the furry predator painted by the door, updated by Allison with sunglasses and a toothy Big Bad Wolf grin.

  “I really think you'd be happier in one of the girls' cabins,” Josh said as he led us inside.

  Wolf Cabin was definitely rougher than the cheerful dollhouse interiors over at the girls' area, with none of the bright colors. Dark wooden walls and metal bunk beds, four beds to a room, no ceiling fan. Thankfully, the bedding looked new, as did the plumbing in the three-stall bathroom. The furniture in the common area, not so much.

  “At least you've got it all to yourselves, for what that's worth,” Josh said.

  “This will be fine,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Can we make a fire?” Stacey pointed out a window to the fire ring outside. “I mean, not right now, but at some point.”

  “Have you earned your fire safety badge?” Josh asked her.

  “Pfft, you should see my old Camp Mizpah award sash. It's heavy with survival skills bling.”

  “I doubt we'll need a campfire,” I said, drawing a scathing look from Stacey. “Thanks again, Josh.”

  “Call us if you need anything. Or text Allison. She seems pretty happy to have you here, so I hope you can make her feel better about... whatever all this is.”

  “We'll do what we can.”

  “In fact,” he said, “I could toss in a bonus. The faster you make her feel better—the sooner you convince her there's nothing to be scared of here—the bigger that could be. You see what I mean?”

  “Um,” I said, as Stacey gaped at him. “Sure. I'll think about that.”

  “Great! I understand you need to make a living. I just don't want you to think you'll get more money by dragging things out.”

  “We have no intention of—”

  “I know, I know! I think we all understand each other. You'll do better by speeding it along and telling her we're fine here. Now rest up. I know you've got a big night of ghost busting ahead, right?”

  He beamed another smile at me before heading out, leaving Stacey and me there in Wolf Cabin.

  Chapter Ten

  After Josh left, Stacey and I sat on bunk beds and looked at each other.

  “Did he just... try to bribe us into saying the place isn't haunted?” Stacey asked.

  “That's what it sounded like to me,” I agreed. “He doesn't believe it, he thinks we're here for his wife's peace of mind. But obviously we're not taking his offer.”

  “Obviously! I couldn't believe he said that. How dishonest.”

  “He probably thinks he can create a placebo effect. He doesn't think there's a real problem, and he clearly suspects we're scam artists, but he's willing to pay us off anyway if we can put Allison's fears to rest.”

  “It sounds like you're defending him.”

  “I'm not. Just trying to understand our situation. Sometimes not everybody in the family is on board with a para
normal investigation, but this might be the first time somebody wanted me to lie to the rest of the family. I think he's trying to protect them in his own way; he thinks the real danger is Allison spreading panic around.”

  “Well, I still don't approve of his dishonesty.” Stacey unzipped her backpack full of clothes and overnight supplies.

  “Do you want to hit the showers with me?” I asked. “I'm covered in three layers of road grit, and I'm not going to that bathhouse alone.”

  “Sure.”

  The boys' showers were extremely non-glamorous, with lots of exposed concrete and brick. I wore some cheap flip-flops I'd brought in case of motel showers. Campground showers were a notch or two below that, or at least this one was.

  The bathhouse, like the rest of the campground, had an eerie feeling. The place had once been thronged with kids and teenagers, loud, busy. It was silent, yet somehow invisibly populated with hidden memories of years past.

  This feeling of unseen presences made me hurry through my shower, though I still ended up waiting for Stacey, who took her time, singing her childhood camp song.

  Back at Wolf Cabin, Stacey lay back on the bunk and closed her eyes. “This is not super comfortable,” she mumbled, her last words before falling asleep.

  Tired but restless, I got up and explored the cabin. There wasn't much to it—the shabby common room where we'd entered, two bedrooms, a bathroom with a couple of stalls but no tub or shower. There was a smaller room with a sink and single bed where the resident counselor would one day sleep.

  Through the windows, I surveyed the cabins, including the dilapidated Bobcat Cabin, the one where the night visitor had knocked Josh's tools around.

  I tried to relax by sitting at the wobbly coffee table in the common room, looking over my notes and typing them up in a more formal way in a computer file, filling in our usual template.

  I worried Josh was planning to keep our involvement here brief, cutting things off before we could do anything substantial about the problem. He had seemed unconvinced by the evidence, which worried me more, but maybe it would sink in after a while. Denial is a natural first response to encountering things in which we don't believe, or don't wish to believe. Josh needed to move beyond that.