Thrill Squeaker Page 5

  My stomach sloshed with unease. The rest of my life.

  The fact that Riley and I were planning to spend forever together should make me the happiest person alive. So why did a feeling of impending doom linger in the back of my mind? Ignoring the feeling was easier than facing it head on so, as always, I shoved the thought to the back of my mind.

  He took my hand into his and squeezed it. “The clowns won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

  I smiled, realizing how foolish I sounded. I was nearly thirty years old. I’d seen a million and one crime scenes—most of them gruesome. And clowns creeped me out. Clowns.

  Seriously, I was above all of this. I had to get a grip and stop letting this place get to me.

  I pulled myself together as I noticed everyone waiting for us at the top of the hill. This was no time to show weakness. “Okay, let’s go.”

  As I walked, I tried humming circus music to cheer myself up. It didn’t work.

  “This is where they put everything weird that didn’t fit other places in the park,” Chad said, unfazed by the area. “There were bumper cars, a carousel, and a funhouse in this area also.”

  “You sound like you’ve been here before, Chad.” I tried to block the grotesque figures from my memory and distract myself by nosing into other people’s business. It had been an effective method before.

  “That’s because I have,” Chad said, adjusting the Norfolk Tides baseball hat he wore.

  I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

  He nodded, like I should have known, and kept walking. “I was only ten years old the last time, but I came here with my family every summer. Bigfoot Woods was my favorite part of the park, followed by the Bermuda Triangle. I don’t know . . . Area 51 was pretty cool also.”

  “You learn something new every day . . .”

  I paused by the Ferris wheel, and my gaze traveled upward. I imagined the tragic accident that had occurred on it two decades ago. Seeing someone fall to her death would be horrifying . . . and definitely put the park’s reputation on the line.

  Thank goodness, the crew was taking it down this week. The thing was practically a monument to decay and death.

  At that moment, a scream cracked the air.

  I jerked my gaze toward the woods as my blood went cold. The sound had come from far away, yet fear still rippled through me. Someone was in trouble. Big trouble.

  I took a step closer, ready to spring into action, when a strong wind whipped over the landscape.

  Something groaned. Something loud. Close. Unsettling.

  I looked up just in time to see one of the cars from the Ferris wheel falling toward me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Riley threw me out of the way. As we both collided with the dirt, the Ferris-wheel car hit the ground beside us with a sickening crash. A nuclear aftershock of dirt and dust billowed out. The air cleared just in time for the car to let out a moan and collapse into several pieces on the ground.

  I sucked in a shaky breath. That had been close. Too close.

  Chad and Clarice appeared beside us. Based on their wide eyes and gawking expressions, they were just as shaken as we were.

  “Are you okay?” Chad asked as he knelt next to me.

  I blinked, trying to figure out the correct answer to that question. I didn’t feel any overwhelming pain, other than an achy hip and shoulder. That was a good sign. “I think so.”

  I glanced at Riley, who stretched beside me, rubbing his elbow while he grimaced. He flinched as he pushed himself up and stared at the mangled metal car only two feet from us.

  “I’m okay,” he muttered. “But what happened?”

  Chad raised his head toward the top of the Ferris wheel. “I guess that wind knocked the car off. Maybe the crew didn’t leave it secured when they left for lunch. Speaking of which, maybe we should move away from it. Talk about safety hazards.”

  Riley stood and then helped me to my feet. We both brushed the dirt from our jeans, and I checked the palm of my hands for scrapes. They appeared okay, but I was going to have some nasty bruises in the morning.

  I shivered again. That could have been ugly. Really ugly. I thanked God for Riley’s quick reflexes.

  I had other things to think about at the moment, however. All the excitement over almost dying had distracted me from my original reason for concern.

  “Did you hear that scream?” My gaze traveled from person to person. I hadn’t imagined it, had I? Somewhere from deep in the heart of these mountains, someone had shrieked with terror.

  I remembered the dead body we’d found yesterday, and I knew the sound was nothing to take lightly. I hoped we wouldn’t find another dead body out there.

  Please, Lord.

  “Yeah, I heard it.” Chad stared off into the thick landscape of trees.

  “Who else is here?” Riley scrunched his eyebrows together, worry sketching his features.

  Chad and I exchanged a glance.

  Finally, Chad shrugged. “Only Seamus and Braxton. That scream came from a woman.”

  “Then who . . . ?” Riley started.

  “We should probably go check it out,” I said. “Someone must have sneaked onto the grounds again. We should make sure everything’s okay. Any more accidents and this place will shut down for good.”

  “I agree that it’s a good idea.” Chad nodded. “Why don’t we split up? I’ll go with Clarice. You and Riley go together.”

  Riley and I started back down toward Bigfoot Woods. I was so excited to see him, but this wasn’t the way I’d anticipated this adventure starting. I hadn’t even had the chance to tell him yet about the—

  “Is that crime scene tape?” Riley’s eyebrows furrowed together as he stared in the distance.

  I squeezed his hand and frowned. “As a matter of fact, yes. It is.”

  I gave him an update on what had happened yesterday, including my resolution to stay out of it and let the authorities do their job.

  “Without fail, this always happens when you’re around.” Riley slid a glance toward me and grinned.

  “I’m beginning to realize that. Although, in my defense, the past several times I’ve been around dead bodies, it’s been because I was asked to be there to investigate.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” He glanced around at the branches as they formed a canopy over us.

  I wondered if he thought the same thing I did: it was almost like those trees were reaching for us, like the forest was alive.

  “Think of it like Cemetery Island,” I told him. “That was even more isolated than this place. At least you don’t need a boat to escape this mountain if it comes down to it.”

  We’d gone undercover at a couples retreat on a fog-entrenched island in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. It had been an interesting experience, to say the least.

  “That’s one way to look on the bright side,” Riley mumbled.

  “After this trip, I think I’ll be ready to stick around Norfolk for a while. No more isolated, spooky places. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. You’ve been quite the traveler over the past twelve months or so. Cincinnati, Oklahoma, Cemetery Island, and now here.”

  “It’s been fun, but I miss my routine. I miss getting coffee every morning across the street at The Grounds and staying in touch with all the interesting and strange residents of our apartment complex.”

  Please don’t ask about a wedding date. Please.

  Things were going so well. Why ruin it by firming up our plans?

  Thankfully, the question didn’t come up.

  We kept going down the path, farther into the woods and past the mock town where our cabins were located. I hadn’t gone this far into the park yet, and it seemed to get darker and darker as we went deeper into the wilderness and farther away from the main hub of Mythical Falls. I tried to tune out all of the Bigfoot figures that seemed to be watching me every time I turned around, and I comforted myself with the realization that they were better than clowns.

  As
I remembered the scream, I squeezed Riley’s hand. What kind of scream had that been? A scream of fear? For help?

  It had been a woman—I felt certain about that. Everything had happened so quickly, I’d gotten distracted. I hoped we weren’t too late to help.

  As we reached the bottom of the incline, I spotted two people in the distance. Both appeared youngish, probably in their early twenties, and they wore swimsuits. Interesting considering how chilly it felt here—it was probably in the low sixties. I imagined the water would be much chillier.

  The good news was that they both also appeared to be okay as they giggled in each other’s arms. They didn’t seem to hear us approaching.

  Riley and I exchanged a look before continuing toward them. We’d come this far. I wasn’t walking away now. I had to confirm they were all right.

  “Excuse me!” I called. “Is everything okay?”

  They turned from canoodling, and their eyes widened when they spotted us. As we got closer, my impressions were confirmed. They were younger—probably college age. And they’d apparently been having a romantic rendezvous here.

  “It’s . . . all good,” the boy answered, water dripping from his eyelashes. “Of course.”

  We stopped in front of them, and I immediately cringed, unable to deny how awkward I felt. They’d obviously thought they were totally alone. They had a blanket set up on the ground, as well as a picnic basket and two bags—hopefully with real clothes inside—resting at the blanket’s edge.

  “We heard a scream,” Riley said, his hands going to his hips.

  The girl blushed and stepped away from the boy. She was painfully thin and had blonde hair that looked stringy with dampness. The way she kept averting her gaze made her appear shy.

  “That was me,” she started. “I’m sorry. Roy jumped from the waterfall, and he didn’t come up for a minute.”

  I looked at the boy, and he shrugged. A touch of mischief stained his dark-brown eyes. He was almost equally as skinny as the girl. I could probably count his ribs if I looked hard enough. His brown hair was a little too long and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while, though his facial hair was thin and patchy.

  The girl cast a bashful glance his way. “It turns out Roy came up behind the waterfall, he ran through the woods and surprised me from behind. I thought it was the Bigfoot Strangler.”

  “The who?” Riley and I asked at the same time.

  “The Bigfoot Strangler. He’s a legend around here,” Roy jumped in, more mischief flashing in his eyes. “You haven’t heard of him?”

  “We’re not from around here,” I said, curious about what Roy would say. I loved a good story . . . usually. However, I had to live here for the next week, so I needed to be careful what kind of thoughts I allowed into my head.

  “He’s like a phantom, and he wreaks havoc in these woods,” Roy said. “He’s the reason this place closed so many years ago. He doesn’t like people being on his property. These woods were his long before humans came and took over. I heard he even arranged that Ferris wheel accident where the girl died.”

  I let out a small sigh. I didn’t believe in phantoms or ghosts or even Bigfoot. But I could understand why people got freaked out, especially with so many deaths in such a short amount of time. Plus, local folklore had a way of being passed down through generations. Throw in a few supposed “eye witness” accounts, and new family stories were launched.

  “I’m surprised you’re here if this phantom frightens you so much,” I finally said, watching their reactions carefully.

  “This place is a locals’ favorite . . .” Roy snaked his arm around his girlfriend’s waist.

  Make-Out Point was more like it. But, at his words, I glanced around. There was something halfway magical about the area. A gentle waterfall trickled down the mountainside in the background. Mist rose up all around, creating the illusion of enchantment. This must be Mythical Falls. In the distance, I saw a weathered Nessie’s head rising from the placid waters farther away from the rapids.

  Several wooden cutouts remained, the kinds with face holes where people could pose as their favorite mythical creature.

  The signs were faded now, but I easily imagined families posing there in days of late. I imagined cotton candy and popcorn and old Polaroid photos. I pictured lifelong memories.

  The kind I’d longed for as a child. My dad had been an alcoholic, though, and my upbringing had been anything but ideal.

  Just then my radio crackled.

  “Everything okay down there?” Chad asked.

  “Yes, it’s fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

  “Then come back up here. I found something you’ll want to see!”

  Riley and I glanced at each other. What now?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  We found Chad in the crossroads of the Pharaoh’s Tomb and Area 51. I quickly scanned the area as I approached and spotted several old rides. None of them seemed as hazardous as the Ferris wheel.

  Thank goodness.

  One looked like a spider, but all of the cars were gone. Another was shaped like a flattened pinwheel. Names like “Alien Encounter” and “Space Sensations” welcomed us.

  Chad stood at the edge of the area, near the woods that separated each “land.” He called us over with a wave offset by tense shoulders and a rigid jaw line. Something was wrong.

  Again.

  “What’s going on?” I braced myself for the worst.

  “Look what I found.” Chad nodded toward the ground.

  Cans of gasoline had been stashed behind a huge, gray boulder. The cans were metal and appeared new, not like something that had been left here two decades ago. They showed no rust or any other signs of age.

  “Are they full?” I asked.

  “They are. I’m wondering if someone abandoned them here.” Chad locked gazes with me. “If they got interrupted before they could do some damage.”

  “You think someone was going to burn this place down?” I clarified. I was usually the one coming up with the outlandish theories. Instead Chad had gone from zero to sixty in 5.2.

  He wobbled his head back and forth a moment, as if contemplating his answer. “I suppose that’s what I’m saying. More directly: What if the guy we found dead yesterday was about to light this place on fire but someone killed him before he could do it?”

  My eyes widened at his theory. “Who would do that?”

  Chad shrugged again. “Someone who didn’t want this place to be destroyed.”

  I’d have to chew on that theory for a moment. “You really think Caleb Kidwell left this here?”

  “Caleb Kidwell?”

  “He’s the boy who died.”

  Chad shot me a confused glance, but he didn’t ask how I knew his name. Instead, he nodded toward the ground. “There was a leather glove beside him. That one looks like a match.”

  I glanced down and examined it more closely. “You’re right. That appears to match the one found at the death scene.”

  “And, if this kid—Caleb, you said—parked on the other side of the gate, the area where his body was found would be dead center between the fence and these gasoline cans. I wonder if he was walking back to his vehicle when someone caught him.”

  I frowned as I thought it all through. “It just doesn’t make sense why someone would kill him, though. The only person who might kill him in order to save the park would be—” I stopped myself before I said Nate’s name.

  Chad sensed exactly where I was going with my train of thoughts, though. “Nate would never do this.”

  I raised my hands. “I didn’t say he would.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “You almost did.”

  “I’m just saying that if your theory is right, then Nate is the only one with motive—albeit it would be the extreme motive of trying to protect his land from further vandalism. Though that seems like a stretch, I can’t think of anyone else who fits the bill.”

  “I don’t know if I’d take it that far. Besides, he would
have done a better job hiding the body.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’m sure there are other people out there who have motive, but there’s so little we know at this point. Finding out that information will take a lot of time and effort, and we didn’t come here to figure out a murder. We came here to restore this place.”

  I straightened and nodded. He was right. I had to stay focused. “Aye aye, sir. We should call the police and then get back to work.”

  * * *

  That night, after working our rears off all day, we went to meet Nate for dinner at a place called Yuck Yuck’s. The restaurant’s name itself was enough to want to keep me away, but I had to admit that I was thrilled to be off the Mythical Falls property for a little while.

  The other part of me was thrilled to go into town because, as much as I told myself that I was staying out of this investigation, I secretly wanted answers. The need was a part of the fiber of my being, if you wanted to be dramatic about it.

  I liked answers. I didn’t like for things to be unfinished. The hectic schedule we had to get everything done at the up-and-coming resort left me little time to indulge in my normal nosiness. Since we’d arrived, my curiosity had been exploding like a volcano.

  Today’s events had only added to my nosiness. After I’d nearly been killed, Chad had contacted the Ferris wheel demolition crew, and the supervisor had claimed they hadn’t left the contraption—their words, not mine—unsecured, and the old theme park was cursed.

  Comforting.

  At the moment, I glanced around Yuck Yuck’s. The inside of the place was just like someone might imagine: dirty floors, aged tables, walls crammed full of local nostalgia; and blinking signs in the window. The smell of fried foods and cigarettes stained the air—even though no one was smoking inside. All the patrons seemed to be locals, based on the looks they shot us—curiosity, distrust, wariness of outsiders. Many of them appeared to be hunters, I guessed, looking at their camo and listening to the stories they told about bucks and tree stands.

  Yuck Yuck’s was the only eating establishment I’d seen within ten miles of Mythical Falls. There were also gas pumps out front, and, in a separate but attached building, one could pick up beer, hand soap, or greeting cards. The joint was located on the outskirts of Whitehurst, a small college town.