Serial Killer Summer (A 3-Day Novel)

Chapter Eight

Events unfolded quickly from there. Right after dinner, while the counsellors were covertly searching the areas around their cabins while still also preparing for evening programming—which had been to be a camp-wide game of capture the flag but was quickly changed to a sing-a-long in the dining hall—and senior staff were similarly sweeping the property, the conservation authorities arrived again.

I hoped that they were here to announce that the girl had been found. I watched from outside the Hen House as they pulled up in front of the director's cabin and got out. There was a police office, marine unit it looked like, with them.

"Oooh, a cop," Courtney said quietly. She had just come up from searching Big Bay with Marcy, Sam and Ben, who were trailing behind her.

"Yeah," I said. "Not good."

But the presence of a police officer gave me at least some hope that maybe my concerns would be taken seriously.

We watch the entire conversation until the visitors got back in their vehicle and rolled out of camp again.

Courtney sighed. "I feel tonight is not going to be a good night for covert skinny dipping in the Back Bay."

I looked at her, and she smiled. "You're welcome to join us any time," she assured me. I thought she was just trying to make up for the nastiness of the other night.

"I really just don't want to see all my colleagues naked," I said.

"It's dark. You hardly see anything."

"Hardly," I repeated. "Not good enough for me."

"What would be good enough?" she asked.

Then she and the rest continued down the path toward the Beach House where they would be spending their time until programming bell.

We did not have to wait long to get the update. While Devon and Hillary were leading campers through several camp classics in the dining hall, most of the staff, including counsellors, were in West Lodge again, hearing the latest.

Two separate groups of hikers earlier that day had seen a red-haired girl at Stoney Point, which was just a kilometre north of camp. She had her shoes off and was wading in the water quite far from shore. One of the hikers had apparently even told her to be careful because there was a drop off ahead, and the water became very deep very quickly.

We all knew the place, and knew this to be true.

"As a result," Lindsey went on. "They're going to concentrate their efforts along the eastern shore for the next day or so. Marine units have been called in. You'll be seeing boats soon, up and down the shore. There will be helicopters, too."

She breathed in deep. "I'm afraid this will be upsetting for the campers. Please show tact when explaining it. I suggest that you say only that someone from the campground got lost while out on a hike, and they are doing everything to find her. And they will."

I wanted to ask her is she had mentioned to them the man and the dog. I kept trying to catch her eye, but she seemed to be avoiding me. This did not bode well. Maybe since they were now thinking an accidental drowning, my information had taken a back seat.

But I wondered if they had found the white sneakers. If she had waded into the water, where had those gone?

* * *

The notion that we could keep this quiet and not alarm the campers with it was blown out of the water, so to speak, very early the next morning.

We were, all of us, awoken about a half an hour before sunrise. It was early, just after five. And to say we were awoken doesn't really do it justice. We were jolted from bed by a deep shuddering noise that rattled the entire cabin, followed by a light through our large window that was so bright, it washed out the entire room for a moment. I was sitting up in bed, terrified, before it registered to me that I was even awake.