Page 28 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Twenty-Two

Ben takes me along a path. The western field is the most common place for campers. We used to camp there ourselves when we had an extended family gathering. It’s a big open meadow, flat and perfect for pitching tents.

Before we even get there, the smell of smoke tells us the campers have returned. We come through the forest to see a small pop-up tent. A touring bike with saddlebags is parked beside it.

“I’ll handle this,” Ben says.

He strides forward, and his gait says he’s about to blast the trespasser, but when he calls, “Hello!” it sounds like a friendly hail.

The campfire is on the other side of the tent, and it takes a moment before a man appears. He’s maybe in his late forties, with graying dark hair, lean and tanned in the way of long-distance cyclists.

“This spot’s taken,” the man says.

I look around. The “spot” is several acres of open land. Even if it were in a park, I’m not sure how he’d justify claiming it all for his personal campsite.

“You are correct, sir,” Ben says, his tone still friendly, but now ringing with false joviality. “This spot—this three-hundred-acre spot—is taken by the person who owns it. You are camping on private property. I’m sure you saw the signs.”

The man only crosses his arms, jaw setting.

He saw them. He just doesn’t give a shit.

I remember back when my family did allow people to camp on the grounds.

Most were happily appreciative, but every now and then you’d get the ones who expected to use the facilities at our cottages.

Because clearly, if you’re letting strangers stay for free, you owe them free showers.

Ben continues, his too-friendly tone edging deeper into sarcasm. “Perhaps, sir, you passed through the town on your way? Stopped for supplies? Paynes Hollow is the name. This here is Ms. Payne. The landowner.”

The man only snorts. “And she called her boyfriend to scare me off?”

“No, her caretaker—me—noticed your tent and has been waiting for you to return to it.”

A second snort. “So she called her goon then. Of course. Little rich girl isn’t going to get her hands dirty. Use the local yahoos for that.” He straightens. “I assert my sovereign right, as a descendant of the original settlers, to camp wherever I like.”

“Your sovereign right?” I say.

Ben lifts a hand to stop me. “Understandable. I’m sure Ms. Payne will recognize the hereditary land rights of the original settlers. I only need to see your tribal ID card.”

The man scowls. “I don’t mean that kind of settler.”

“You aren’t local? That’s fine. Ms. Payne will recognize any tribal card, and happily allow you to camp—”

“Stop your bullshit. You know exactly what I was saying. I have the right to be here, and I do not recognize the authority of any rich little girl whose great-great-great-granddaddy bought this land.”

Ben frowns. “And yet you assert your own right based on some equally distant relative?” He shakes his head. “Never mind. The answer is no. Pack your shit and get on your rusty steed, cowboy.”

“My bike isn’t rusty.”

I bite my cheek at the guy’s obvious indignation, but I stop smiling when he stalks toward Ben.

I jump between them. I don’t think about what I’m doing—just that I need to defuse the situation.

Ben barely gets out a sound of warning before the guy slams his hand into my shoulder so hard I fall on my ass.

“What the hell?” Ben says, lunging forward.

“Oh come on,” the guy says. “That was a pratfall. I barely touched her.”

As the wind whispers around us, Ben helps me up and then turns on the man. “You knocked her down. For trying to stop you from taking a swing at her employee. Pack your stuff. Now.”

“Or what? You’ll pack it for me? Lay one finger on my gear, and you’ll regret it. I’m a lawyer.”

Ben stares and then he starts to laugh. “Of course you are.”

“I am.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm, asshole. I believe it. I’m also pretty sure that if I ask for your ABA card, you’re as likely to pull that out as a tribal ID card.”

The man’s jaw sets.

“Good guess, huh? A lawyer, but not the practicing sort, or you’d be too embarrassed to even try that sovereign-right shit. Now if you’ve humiliated yourself enough for one day, it’s time to go.”

The man steps toward Ben, who doesn’t even tense.

“You want to hit me, too?” Ben says. “Go ahead. I won’t even hit back.”

The guy’s eyes narrow.

“Have you wondered how I knew you were here?” Ben waves at the forest. “Smile, you’re on camera.

It’s a really good one, too. Rich people, huh?

Always protecting their private property with high-tech toys.

Right now, it has footage of you striking Ms. Payne, unprovoked.

The angle is…” Ben squints that way. “Exactly right. Excellent. It’ll be up to her whether she wants to press charges or not.

But if you hit me, I will definitely press them.

I need all the money I can get. You might not be a practicing lawyer, but you know what an easy case that will be.

Guy trespasses on private property. Is politely asked to leave.

Knocks down the young woman who owns it and then hits her employee, who doesn’t even strike back.

Maybe you can try out your sovereign-right defense. ”

The man steps right up to Ben, who lifts his hands.

“Note for the camera that I am unarmed and in a position of surrender, making no attempt to defend myself against this trespasser on my employer’s property.”

The man stomps his foot an inch from Ben, as if to startle him. When Ben arches an eyebrow, the man’s scowl is truly worthy of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Fucking piece of shit land anyway,” the man says. “Can’t even see the lake from here.”

“Most of the lakefront land around here is privately owned,” Ben says, “but if you drive about twenty minutes west, there’s a state park with some very nice lakeside sites. Decently priced for small tents, too.”

“Fuck off,” the man spits.

“Have a nice evening!” Ben calls, waving for me to start walking and falling in behind me. “If you aren’t gone in twenty minutes, I’ll be calling the sheriff, who is a close personal friend of mine. Drinking buddy, in fact.”

There are no cameras on the property. That’s what Ben had said earlier, and I know that hasn’t changed, considering Ben had been watching for the guy to return to his campsite.

Ben confirms the bluff as he shows me to a spot where he can watch the field without being seen.

The cyclist fumes for a few minutes and then stomps off to look for the nonexistent camera.

He’s obviously watching the time, though, and twenty-three minutes later, he’s packed and gone.

He certainly wasn’t giving in to “the man” by leaving within twenty minutes, but neither was he sticking around to talk to the cops.

“You do know a bit about the law,” I say as I follow Ben back to the cottages. “Like you told Ms. Jimenez.”

He snorts. “Doesn’t take a law degree to recognize guys like that.”

“Failed lawyers?”

“Started the degree but couldn’t finish. Or finished, but couldn’t pass the bar. Or passed the bar but couldn’t hack the job. Dime a dozen. Like I said, I’ve taken a few courses. Saw plenty of them, sometimes as teachers. Talk like they’re a fucking lawyer, but say shit that proves they aren’t.”

We continue on, me tramping after Ben, nearly jogging to keep up.

“You want to sue him?” he says. “Charge him?”

“No.”

“Figured that. Just thought I should ask instead of being a total dick who ignores the fact you got knocked down.”

“I’m fine.”

“And you’d say that even if you weren’t, so I didn’t bother asking earlier.”

I roll my eyes and hop-step over a fallen branch. “About cameras. That’d be a good idea. A really good one.”

“Yep.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. “I, uh, really am a bit short on funds.”

“Dead broke from what I hear.”

I tense. “What?”

“Sorry. I misstated. Dead broke means you have no money. You’re in debt. That’s worse.”

My eyes narrow as my hackles rise. “My financial situation is none of your business.”

“Well, the person who told me thought it was. They figured if I knew how bad off you are, I’d stop being an asshole to you. Their mistake. I’m an equal-opportunity asshole.”

I shake my head. “My point is that I don’t have a ton of spare cash for cameras, but some cash was left in the cottage. I used most of it to pay my mom’s bills, but I have a few hundred left. Would that be enough?”

“Not for a decent system. Doesn’t matter anyway. It won’t work.”

“We could try,” I say, trying not to grind my teeth.

“Already did.” He takes another step, and then sighs, as if realizing I’m not going to drop this, which means he needs to say more than a line or two to shut me up.

“Seven years ago,” he says, “I was out here, on my rounds, cleaning up trash from picnickers, checking the cottage for damage, and I thought, what the hell am I doing? Cameras could handle this. So I contacted your grandfather. It was one of the rare times he bothered to reply. He said they wouldn’t work out here.

I was young, naive, felt a little sorry for the old guy who didn’t understand modern technology, so I explained how they would work.

He sent back one line: Why the hell would I be paying you if I could monitor the property that way? ”

“Charming.”

“Always. Two more years pass, and an old school buddy of mine goes into home security. I ask him to demo a system for me. A cheap one. Not that I’m trying to avoid doing my rounds, but because I’d rather avoid cleaning up shit from campers and vandals.

He comes out. Sets it up. Doesn’t work. Can’t get a remote signal.

There’s cell service, obviously, but it’s not connecting, no matter what he does.

Some technical shit about the cell signal here.

Long story short, I can set up game cameras and download the photos, but the only thing that’s good for is blurry pictures of deer. ”

“Okay.”

He glances back at me for the first time since we left the camper. “You are free to try yourself. Don’t take my word for it.”

“No, I figured there was a reason we don’t have security cameras.”

“Yep.” He resumes walking. “And it’s not my incompetence.”

“I never said it was, Ben.” I take a few more steps. “How much are trail cams?”

He sighs.

“I’ll look it up,” I say. “I don’t know whether I can get deliveries out here, but I’m sure Josie would let me send them to her.”

“I already put up three. You want more? A hundred bucks a pop.”

I don’t say anything. I do not even make a noise, but he throws up his hands as if I won’t shut up about it.

“I installed them today, okay? That’s part of what I was doing. After you got that photo at the lake, it made me think there might be a point in trail cams. Get shots of anyone snooping around. One is aimed at the beach. One at the steps of your cottage. One over by the shed.”

My heart picks up. “There’s one by the shed?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see the pictures?”

He shrugs. “Sure. I need to download them manually, but I’ll show any to you tomorrow.”

“Can I see them now?”

He peers back at me.

“Please?” I ask.

I wait for him to ask for an explanation. He only shrugs. “You’re the boss.”