Lake Justice (3 page)

"Of course I do." Tessa flushed. "Don't you?"

"Plenty." Tobias flashed a grin, both diabolical and charming. "But I don't talk about them. That's why it's called a
secret.
"

"This is the time of year when the dead reveal the secrets." Mark lowered his voice theatrically. "The time of year when the spirits rise--"

"Wait a minute," Bertram interrupted. "Do the dead reveal
their
secrets? Or
the
secrets? 'Cause there's a big difference."

"Aunt Bronwyn?" Jamie looked at me.

I shrugged. "'T'ain't my tale, buddy. I'm not getting in the middle of this discussion."

"But--" Jamie stopped when he saw the warning look I shot him.

"They rise from watery graves--"

"What if they didn't die in the water?" Bertram interrupted.

"Will you stop killing the mood already?" Amy complained. "Mr. Andrews is trying to tell a really cool ghost story, and I want to hear it, without you taking apart every sentence."

::This is so bogus.::

I looked around the campfire. Felicia was staring right at me. I raised an eyebrow. One corner of her mouth twitched upward. I winked.
::Careful,::
I warned
. ::I get the feeling Mr. Andrews doesn't get out enough.::

Felicia snickered. Jamie looked from one to the other of us and blew through his nose like an annoyed horse.

"I know, I know, it sounds like a cliché, but on a dark and stormy night, a stranger came to town." Mark Andrews held up his hand. "He wooed a local young woman and enticed her out into the night. She met him here, near the lake. He strangled her."

George tapped Amy on the shoulder. She shrieked, then began to giggle.

"He buried her here in the woods," Mark continued. "And her ghost still haunts the place."

"But if he buried her in the woods, what does the lake have to do with it?" asked Bertram. "Or is this a different girl?"

"More than one girl's been killed here," said Mark. As our heads snapped to look at him, he added, "So I've heard. But this one particular girl is said to walk the woods in the days and nights before Halloween, searching for the day when her killer comes back, so she can exact her revenge." He made eye contact with everyone in the circle, leaving Kyle Everett as the last. Kyle did not look away.

It took me a minute to realize Mark Andrews was accusing Kyle Everett of murder. I felt as though the wind was knocked right out of me. And then I was angry. If, for some reason, Mark believed Kyle was a murderer, then what the hell was he thinking, bringing teenagers out on this trip?

"Ghosts can't bleed, can they?" Tessa asked quietly.

"Of course not," Bertram snorted. "They don't have bodies, so they can't have blood."

"It would explain this afternoon in the woods." Tessa traced the ground at her feet. "Why there was all that blood, and suddenly, it was gone. But we couldn't find anyone."

The incident was discussed over dinner, so it wasn't news to anyone.

"The blood was real, Tessa," Kyle said seriously. "From someone still living, not someone long dead."

"You hope that someone is living," Mark countered.

"Whoever bled in the woods today wasn't killed in 1994, when Mary Ann Davidovich was murdered," Kyle countered. "Her body was found three years later. Her killer was never caught."

"Which is probably why she's still wandering around," said Bertram.

"You know her name?" Mark smirked.

"I made myself very familiar with the history of the area," Kyle retorted. "And when people die, their names should be remembered."

"Isn't that why they come back as ghosts?" Louisa asked quietly. "So someone will remember them?"

"And can ghosts really hurt people?" asked George. "Outside of slasher films, I mean."

"Aren't you going to give your usual spiel, Mom, about how ghosts don't exist?" Felicia cut in.

"Just because I never met one doesn't mean I dismiss their existence entirely," Fay responded.

"But when we were little--"

"I wanted to keep you and your sisters and your brother from having nightmares."

"Mr. Andrews, did you bring us here because you think one of us had something to do with Mary Ann's death?" Tobias asked. "Because we'd all have been pretty young."

"Like some of us not even born yet," Bertram added.

"No." Mark smiled around the circle. "I just thought it would make a good story."

"I'd rather stick to axe murderer stories, thank you very much," said Phillip.

"Oh, right, 'cause it's always the women who get cut up into little chunks." Felicia pulled her knees up to her chest, clasping her hands around them, and rolled her eyes.

"Plenty of guys get cut up in horror movies," Phillip protested.

"Just not if they're stars and it says they can't in the contract," Tobias added.

"There's still way more violence against women in horror movies than men," Felicia argued, "and you always know if a woman has sex, she's going to die a gruesome death."

"Hey, we are
not
talking about sex out here," Fay protested. "I put my foot down."

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Mom?"

"No. I just don't want us getting sued by parents who might not think sex talk on a co-ed camping trip is appropriate."

"Oh, Mom, sometimes you're just so parochial!"

"Parochial?" Fay wrinkled her forehead. "I don't think that's exactly what you mean in this--"

"Oh, Mom!" Felicia flung herself to her feet and stomped off into the darkness, toward the lake.

"I'll go," I offered, as everyone tried not to look at each other in the awkwardness of the moment. I got to my feet. "Sometimes it's easier when you're not related."

"I'm coming, too," said Jamie, slipping in beside me.

It took our eyes a few moments to adjust once we left the circle of firelight, but Felicia hadn't gone far. She was sitting on a log near the edge of the lake, about five hundred yards away from the campsite.

"My mom's lame," Felicia said, as Jamie and I joined her.

"She's trying," I said.

"Yeah. In every sense of the word."

"Hey, I know it totally sucks to be a teenager. I'm not arguing with you." I looked at her for a minute. "So how long have you been using telepathy?"

"Oh, man, I knew it," Jamie exploded. "I sorta heard you two, but I couldn't figure out what it was."

"That's because you haven't been doing those exercises I taught you." I wagged my finger at him.

"I don't have time--"

"If you want it badly enough, you'll make time."

"There are exercises for it?" Felicia asked.

"Yeah." I nodded. "It's like any other skill or muscle. You've got to keep using it or it atrophies."

"I mostly practice with the dog or the cat," Felicia admitted. "The dog will go fetch stuff if I ask without speaking. The cat just looks at me with contempt."

"Cats do that," I said. "You and Jamie should work together.
If
your mother allows it. You're underage."

"She'd never in a million years allow it. She doesn't think any of this exists, even though she was pretending to be cool about it back there." A breeze ruffled Felicia's hair, and her jewelry jangled. "And wow, was Mr. Andrews drinking or something? That lame ghost story? And practically accusing Mr. Everett of being a murderer?"

The breeze shifted, and before I could do or say anything, Jamie said in a strange, choked voice, "Aunt Bronwyn?"

We turned toward the lake. At least a dozen figures of women, all translucent, were rising up from the water as though the water was their coffin. One minute, it seemed they all lay, Ophelia-like, flat and floating. The next, they were on their feet. Moving in our direction.

I tossed up a shield in the general direction of the lake and then added a bubble-like net of protection all the way around us. The energy field crackled between the ghosts and us. I poured more energy into it, more light, so it was more like a sparkling window than just a shimmer of energy. We stared at the dozen specters who walked across the surface of the lake and then touched the bank. They moved closer until they hit the shield. They bounced back, as though burned, and cried out. The cry wasn't one of frustration, but mourning and pain.

"Help us," one cried, and the others took up the call. "Help us." It echoed through the woods, sounding like the forest itself joined in.

"I keep thinking I should freak out, but I'm too scared to move," said Felicia.

"Your instincts are right," I responded. "They're partials, not fully formed. They can't see you. But they can feel motion. Stay still." I swallowed, staring at the sightless eyes, at the pale arms flailing against the shield.

"They don't look like those ghosts we handled in Barnstable," said Jamie.

"You've done this before?" Felicia's jaw dropped.

"I do a lot of work with the dead," I admitted. "To me, they look like leftover energy, not quite ghosts, more like an imprint of the spirits."

"Why do they need your help?"

"They're stuck. It's like a part of the soul of the deceased was torn off during death and stayed here. The soul has to be complete to continue its journey."

"So the spirits of these women are stuck in a kind of limbo?"

"Something like that."

"Why?"

"They died violently and never found justice or rest."

"Lake Justice," said Jamie.

"Can they hurt us?" Felicia asked.

"They could. But they won't. They don't want to hurt us. They want our help." I looked at the figures. A wave of sadness washed over me.

I took a deep breath and began a low incantation. I let the cadence rise and fall. The melody moved, but I stayed grounded and focused, singing in a low, calm voice. The apparitions swayed slightly, then stepped back from the shield with a sigh. They twirled, as though dancing to the tune, and flitted back to the lake. They stepped into the lake; instead of lying down, they simply walked into it until they disappeared, the water closing over their heads.

"So how do we help them?" Felicia asked.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"They feel like they're in pain."

"Part of the whole violent death thing, I bet," said Jamie.

"I'll have to do some research when we get back to town," I said. "Figure out their stories and then figure out what they need."

"Maybe Mr. Everett would know," Jamie suggested.

"I'd rather look it up myself."

"You don't think he had anything to do with them, do you?"

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions, one way or the other."

"I want to come up with you when you do whatever it is," said Felicia.

I thought it over and nodded. "Yeah, I think you've earned it."

"We so cannot tell my mom about this," said Felicia. "She'd make us pack up and leave right now."

"I don't often agree with keeping secrets from parents, but in this case, I do," I said. "I'll put a circle of protection around the campsite before we all go to sleep."

"Better make sure you include the latrine," Jamie said. "'Cause everyone drank a lot of water today."

Felicia returned to the campsite without argument. We slid back in to the ghost tales and the round robin tales around the campfire. After everyone turned in, I walked a circle around the site, including the latrine, casting a net of protection over us, so nothing could enter that wished us harm.

"You look like you're on patrol."

"You scared me!" I scolded Kyle.

"Sorry. I was just making a final check before turning in."

"Me, too."

"Thanks for doing this."

"You're welcome."

He hesitated, as though about to say something else. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * * *

"Ms. Rowan, Mrs. Williams, wake up!" Tessa shook me.

"What is it?"

"I think something's happened to Felicia."

"What?" Fay and I both sat up. Fay turned on the electric lantern.

Tessa and Amy stared at us, frightened. "We heard something outside the tent. We figured it was the boys, playing a practical joke. Felicia snuck out the back flap of the tent. We heard her scream and then--she's gone." Tessa's eyes filled with tears.

I was in my clothes and boots in a flash and raced out of the tent. Kyle was pulling his shirt on as he ran out of his tent.

"Where's Mark?" Fay asked.

"He heard Felicia scream and went into the woods after her," said Amy.

For some reason, Kyle and I stared at each other. "I need you to stay here, Fay," Kyle said.

"She's my daughter," Fay said.

"And I can track her," I said. "We're running out of adults here. I'll track, Fay, if you can stay with the kids. Philip, George, you look pretty strong. Get some large tree limbs, everyone stay in one tent, and if someone you don't know tries to get into the tent, whack him one."

"You think it's the caretaker?" Fay asked.

"It's not the caretaker," Kyle said.

"How do you know?" Fay demanded. "Damn it, Kyle, how do you know? Mark made some pretty direct accusations earlier."

"Yeah, I know. He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."

"What?" Fay stared at him.

"You can really track Felicia?" Kyle asked me.

"Absolutely. We can telepath."

"
What?
" Now Fay glared at me.

"Fay, do you know how to shoot a gun?" Kyle asked.

"Yes, but--"

"I'll give you my extra."

"Why are you carrying a gun?" I asked.

Kyle disappeared into his tent. A moment later, he came out, loading a clip into a gun. My warning bells rang big time. A teacher carrying a Glock 23? Something was way off here. I'd ask some serious questions when we got Felicia back safely. He handed it to Fay. "Can you use this, or do I need to show you?"

"I can use it," said Fay.

"Here are two extra clips." He handed them to her.

"Is it the caretaker?" Fay asked. "The one who was eyeing us all when we came in?"

"It's not the caretaker."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because he's on my team," said Kyle.