Lake Hollow Curses (Lake Hollow #3)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Remington James

P aralyzed with fear as I crumple to the floor, I can’t control my crying. Gulping, to get air in my lungs, my vision turns blurry with tears.

I read the warning Carlotta Marlow gave Wilder in her letter. I read it. How did I let myself believe that it had no validity? That she didn’t know what she was saying.

I whisper to myself, “There are lots of ‘C’ names in Lake Hollow, loads… it’s not…” Carlotta’s name started with a ‘C’, Ceily, Carter Kelley, Father Chris Lowe, Cammie at the post office, Carrie who works at the lodge.

But Charlie and Cal are the only ones with connections that make sense. They were the ones suspected by Carlotta… men I’ve given my heart and soul to.

The little things that made me pause previously come at me like a wave. Charlie’s inconsistent statements about Lakeside Park, Cal’s anger and refusal to talk about the drownings.

The names of the victims are a drumbeat in my mind. Mia. Mark. Tera. Jeremy. Susanna. Sara. Katie.

Sara Truitt? Katie Gibson?

That would mean one of them killed their own sister. This realization is so vile that my stomach does somersaults.

I’m shaking so much I slip trying to stand, I give up. Curling into a tight ball and muffling sobs against my knees, I immediately decide to keep this to myself. Plans start to take shape as I try to grasp what this means. One may be guilty… fuck, is. Is guilty of terrifying things, but the other one isn’t. I can’t tell Keenan, Wilder, or Grady about finding the missing pages. Forefront in my mind is protecting the one that has been fooled like the rest of us. I need to talk to Detective Hemminger. I need to tell her about Katie’s diary.

It all comes crashing down on me like an avalanche.

Mom and Aunt Bo, the move from Florida, Uncle Skip’s chilly behavior, Lake Hollow’s tragic past… my guys… the betrayals, the bullying endured by Wilder, the suspicion, and now…

Now, I’m starting to doubt myself for the first time in my life. To doubt my own judgment. I’ve fallen in love with all of them.

How could I be blind to a monster? A killer.

The lights turn off and come back on in the bathroom over and over. I’d be amused that Winifred is trying to communicate with me again if my life wasn’t falling apart. Wini-wait… I suck in a stuttered breath. Wait. Katie’s diary was only found in the bathroom because the lights made us call an electrician, then the window issues caused me to discover the missing pages.

Could my ghoulish friend Winifred be Katie Gibson? Is that possible?

I’ve never been much of a believer in spirits, hauntings and whatnot. Relia had a box of crystals, believed all types of otherworldly things, but to me, if I couldn’t taste, touch, hear or see it… it didn’t exist. Kind of like my mom half the time.

Keeping my voice hushed, I whisper, “Katie? Is that you?”

I don’t know what I expect. Some grand reveal? The lights freaking out, for her to answer me, or even creepy writing on the mirror. I’ve seen too many horror movies. I get nothing in return.

With my head leaning on the door, I hear a soft knock, followed by, “Remi, are you alright? We put the fire out, the smoke was getting out of hand. Rem?” Charlie knocks again, lightly.

My hand presses against my mouth, the sound of his voice wracks my body with pain. My bird understander, my compassionate sounding board, my heart cradler. It can’t be him. Please, God, it can’t be.

A low churning noise starts, I’m getting that choked feeling back… damnit, not now. Not on top of everything else. That dark unsettling spirit, not the least bit like Winifred… or is it Katie? is creeping in.

I hear Cal ask, “Are we sure she even came inside?”

“Uh, yeah? Do you feel that?” Grady asks. It’s not just me feeling it. The atmosphere has shifted so dramatically in the cabin, my stomach quakes, my body shakes.

There is movement outside the door, their voices sound distant to me. My vision is blackening... “You heard me… get the door open. Get her out of there.” Wilder’s voice is stern, but there is panic in it.

Then just like last time, the feeling passes after a couple of minutes.

Hauling myself off the floor, using the doorknob to steady me, I take a deep breath.

There are too many mysteries, there is too much unknown to lose faith in either Cal or Charlie. We belong together. My rebellious heart refuses to let go. Until I can no longer deny it… until something tangible is placed at my feet, I’m on their side.

I choose to believe in them.

All four of my boyfriends rush at me when the door opens.

“Christ, James, did you feel that energy?” Wilder asks in my ear with a quick hug.

“I was afraid you passed out with all that smoke inhalation,” Cal says smoothing a hand down my back.

Charlie edges in closer. “Are you okay? Your eyes are red… were you crying?”

With my hand in his, Grady adds, “We didn’t need to burn the damn trunk. Are you regretting it?”

Am I okay, do I regret anything? Only time will tell.

Right now, my mind can’t stop going over the details. “You’re all being dramatic. I’m better than okay. The costumes are gone, I’m letting go of the past.” Taking a big breath and wiping my hair from my face, I add, “It’s been a long couple of days.” I don’t regret the trunk, but I’m regretting finding those pages. I can’t unsee it. I pick at the words on the page not obliterated by water damage. ‘I told him I saw him with Sara, he pushed her down into the lake. I saw her hands come up then she disappeared.’

‘He looked right at me when he turned from the lake.’

Then Charlie, whose lap I was sitting on not even an hour ago, while I tried to force feed him my terribly burnt smores, my Charlie says, “There’s more going on here.”

Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he whispers, “Please tell us what’s wrong.”

Blinking tears away, I laugh abruptly, pulling away from all of them. “Last person out of this cabin is doomed to eating that gloppy casserole Ceily made… with tuna, peas, and I swear raisins in it.” I stick my tongue out in disgust.

Falling all over each other and me, they try pushing through the door en masse while chattering away, Wilder turns to grin at me, but he pauses. I’ve come to a halt, feet from the door. I never noticed that initials were etched into the wood door frame inches from the floor.

I move to the door, squatting to look at what’s etched there… WPL… I’ve seen those initials before…

“James?” He looks around the room. “Let’s get out of here. I’m getting a bad vibe. It feels oppressive, something’s not right… let's get the hell out of here.”

I want to run from the whole mess.

But there is no outrunning my problems now.

I’m ready to admit that it’s no coincidence I’ve come across Katie’s diary, there’s been forces pushing me towards it. I steel my heart for my mission ahead. Katie Gibson witnessed a murder, Carlotta Marlow was onto the suspect, Wilder’s visions are increasing… it’s time to get pushier.

Restless spirits aside, the victim’s families deserve to know the truth. The residents of Lake Hollow need to know that the drownings were no accident.