Page 32 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Smits shakes his head. “No one was murdered, Mr. Vandergriff. That camper was obviously in on it. They staged this whole thing to frighten Sam. She wakes hearing a scream, runs out and sees that scene play out. That camper made sure you saw him earlier—it wouldn’t work as well if you just saw some random person being dragged off.

Instead, it’s an innocent camper you’d spoken to earlier. ”

“That’s what you think happened?” Ben says.

“No, I think zombies came out of the water and killed that camper. Get your head out of your ass, Vandergriff. I know Sam is going through a really rough time with her aunt missing, but if you think you saw zombies, then maybe you need to come down to my office for a little test.” He locks gazes with Ben. “For old times’ sake.”

“When we go back to the cottage,” Ben says, his voice even, “I will find a bottle and pee in it for you, Sheriff. I’ve been clean for years.

Whatever we saw, we are reporting what appeared to be a murder, and you damn well better take that seriously enough to at least walk the property with us looking for that fellow’s gear. ”

Smits turns toward the forest. Am I imagining it or does he blanch?

Don’t go in the forest at night.

“Fine,” Smits says. “We will drive over to the campsite where you saw him. The west field?”

“Yes, but the cyclist left that spot. He must have set up camp somewhere else on the property. There are a few decent places I know of.” Ben pauses for a beat. “Can’t drive to them, though. We’ll need to walk. There’s a path through the forest—”

“We’ll drive to the west field,” Smits says. “There are a few other spots we can see from the road. If you want to keep searching after that, be my guest. But this is the second night in a row I’ve been called out here, and I really need to get some sleep.”

In the west field, Smits finds signs that the camper had been there earlier—peg holes and campfire remains—but the man’s gear is gone.

Smits checks a couple more places he can see from the road, and maybe he really does just consider this a wild-goose chase, but it seems clear to me that he really doesn’t want to go in the forest.

An hour later, Ben and I are back in the cottage. Smits is gone, and I’m trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

We saw a man die tonight. Ben and I have zero doubt of that. And yet here we are, in the cottage, the sheriff gone, the investigation apparently over, as if we’d hallucinated everything.

The problem is that I can see Smits’s point. Even Ben can, given the fact that he didn’t push the matter.

On the surface, Smits’s “it was all an act” explanation makes sense. Especially when the alternative is “the drowned dead dragged a man into the lake while a headless horseman watched.”

I’m sitting on the sofa, my knees drawn in. Ben is slumped on the recliner. At least thirty minutes have passed, and neither of us has spoken.

“We did see what we thought we saw, right?” I whisper finally. “There’s no way that was actors.”

“It wasn’t.”

I chew my lip. “We shouldn’t have called him.”

Ben stretches his legs. “Yeah, we should have. The point was that we reported what we saw. I didn’t expect him to believe us. And I sure as hell don’t expect him to solve it.”

“That’s on us,” I say. “To figure out what happened.”

“It is.”

This is where we should start talking. Sharing ideas. Comparing notes. But we only lapse back into silence, both falling into our thoughts as the night envelops us.

I fall asleep on the sofa, and when I wake, Ben is gone. I bolt up, my breath coming fast as I scramble to my feet, imagining him being dragged into the lake—

He’s right on the other side of the window. There’s a chair, but he’s leaning on the railing, staring out at the lake.

I push open the screen door. “Coffee?”

He nods without turning.

I hesitate and then say, “You don’t need to stay. In fact, it’s safer for you if you don’t.”

“I’m fine.”

I prop the screen door open. “Ben?”

He grunts and keeps looking toward the beach.

“We saw a man dragged into the lake last night,” I say. “And maybe you don’t want to bring it up, but we both know that—” My throat closes, and I force myself to keep going. “We know that’s what happened to my aunt. The photo…”

I can’t finish. I swallow hard and say, “It happens at night.”

“Seems so.”

“You’re here at night.”

“It’s not night now.”

“So you’ll leave by dark?”

Silence. Then, “We shouldn’t argue about this. That’s not safe.”

I swallow again. “Gail and that camper both fought with me. That’s what you’re thinking.”

“I saw him last night,” he says, his gaze on the water, voice hollow. “My brother. Austin. He was one of those—those things, coming out of the water.”

I flinch, my stomach tightening, but Ben’s still looking forward and doesn’t see my reaction, only continues with, “He was still a thirteen-year-old boy. Still dead. But that’s not possible.”

When I don’t answer, he peers over. “You saw him last night, too.”

I pause, wanting to offer comfort in lies. Then I say, “It was the night my tracker shows me going out. I saw the lights, like I said. But what the tracker doesn’t show…” I wrap my arms around me. “I didn’t walk back to the cottage. I ran.”

“Because you saw him.”

I nod. “That’s another reason I thought I was losing my mind.

Not just seeing the drowned dead. Seeing Austin.

He didn’t drown. My dad…” Another hard swallow.

“My father killed him and then he was buried. He’s not in the lake.

So it must be a trick. Maybe…” I look at him.

“Maybe that’s it. Like Gail. It’s not her.

It’s some creature imitating her to lure me in. Same as Austin.”

“Looking like Austin to lure you in. To lure me in. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”

He looks back at the lake, forearms on the railing as he bends down. I’m about to head inside when he glances over. “You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke, would you?”

“Cigarette? No. You smoke?”

“Not since I was a kid. But today?” He looks at the lake again. “I could really use one.”

“My aunt Ellen is a smoker,” I say. “There might be some in their cottage, if you don’t mind fourteen-year-old cigarettes.”

He snorts and says, “I’ll pass,” but his gaze still flicks in that direction as if considering it.

“You could go to town and grab a pack,” I say.

He doesn’t even answer that. Again, I’m starting to retreat when he speaks, not looking over. “You read that old book you brought from the crawl space?”

“Yes.”

“I took a look last night. You saw the parts on the water horses?”

“Yes.”

He turns, his hip resting against the railing. “And you weren’t going to mention it?”

“How? It’s not like I read a chapter in a marine-biology text that explains seahorses. Water horses are myth. Legend. Folklore.”

“Yeah, it’s folklore found in a whole lotta places. All roughly the same. As if people were all talking about the same rare animal.”

“We didn’t see a rare animal, Ben. Rotting animals are dead animals.”

He straightens. “Actually—”

“Yes, there are parasites that can cause flesh decomposition in living creatures. So can infection. I’m a wannabe doctor, remember?”

“So you do still want to be a doctor?”

“No, I love being a lab tech, making minimum wage with an undergrad degree. It’s awesome. The point is that there is no natural explanation for what we saw.”

“Then maybe there’s an unnatural one.”

When I pull a face, he says, “You believe Smits then. That it’s someone in a costume.”

“No. If you saw what I did, then we both know that was no one in a costume.”

“You’re going in circles, Sam. What we saw has no natural explanation, and we definitely saw it. Yet it can’t be something supernatural?”

“I never said that. I grimaced, because I’m uncomfortable with the idea, but yes, I think we saw some kind of water horse. A cross between those and the drowned dead. With a rider. A headless rider that is…” I let out a breath. “I don’t even want to go there.”

“Because your grandfather insisted ‘Sleepy Hollow’ was based on a local legend, and he might actually be right? He’s allowed to be right. Doesn’t make him less of an asshole.” Ben steps away from the railing. “If we’re accepting that we saw something impossible, then I have something to show you.”

He walks past me and down the steps, leaving me to follow.