Secrets At Crescent Point, page 12
“Well if it isn’t my long lost friend,” Kimber drawled. “I was sure you had been sucked up by the Bermuda Triangle or something!”
Her Alabama accent brought a smile to my face and I realized I’d really missed her cheery disposition.
“No cell service on Noble,” I explained. “I thought about climbing a tree, but I’d probably only get a half a bar for my trouble.”
“And how is it going?” Kimber’s voice held concern. “Did you find out what was wrong with your sister? What was with the cryptic postcard, anyway?”
“She was worried.” I tried to keep the emotion from my voice. “Her fiancé was missing.”
“Why didn’t she just say that?”
“I–I don’t know,” I said and it dawned on me that I never really got to speak to Sonja about why she was worried that someone was reading her mail. With all that happened, it completely fell to the wayside. “I never asked her.”
“Raven, honey,” Kimber said evenly. “You don’t sound very good. What is going on out there?”
I didn’t know where to begin, but eventually got most of what had happened out. From finding Niklos’s body, to the strange face in the carousel mirrors, I told her about all the disturbing things I’d heard about Noble and the boardwalk. She listened without interrupting and I worried that I sounded insane to her, or worse, like superstition ruled my thoughts. She knew where my heart was, that I struggled with a new faith. What must this rambling make her think? “And then there’s Siyah…”
“That bad, huh?” She snapped her gum. “Have you talked with him?”
“Does yelling and storming out count?” I cringed.
“Probably not,” Kimber chuckled.
“Do you think I’ve lost my mind?” I asked, truly wondering. “I’m seeing things now, I must be cracking apart.”
The phone was silent for a few moments, and I checked to make sure I hadn’t dropped the call.
“Listen, up, OK?” She said and all the humor was gone from her voice. “When I have to deliver terrible news to a patient, I find that the more information I can give them, the better they deal with it.”
“You think I need to do research into ghosts?” I ran my fingers along the laptop’s keys, thinking. Whatever chased me in the woods had not seemed human. Distorted, with a loping gait, it moved like nothing I’d seen before. I also knew it wasn’t Siyah, he’d come from the opposite direction. “I can’t just type in ‘strange stuff on Noble’ in the search engine, Kimber.”
“No, but you said Siyah mentioned unrest? Look up the police blotter, or something. I think if you find out as much as you can about what’s been going on out there, you’ll see that it’s nothing supernatural. Maybe you can even set your mind at ease enough to have a decent conversation with that Siyah of yours.”
I smiled when she said that. She always referred to Siyah as mine. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about Lenora and his eventual engagement. Rubbing my eyes, I realized she was right about Noble, though. Maybe I just needed to have concrete evidence instead of the wild imaginings and faulty memories, which seemed to make things worse.
“OK,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“There you go,” Kimber said. “And hurry back, kiddo. I miss ya.”
I rang off with her and stared at the laptop, unsure of where to start. Remembering everything that the sheriff relayed to me, I realized I could probably get a more complete picture of what was going on from him. Then the memory hit me, the weird noise and flash of light in the fun house. Siyah had said there was no one with him. Yet when I was leaving, I’d heard something.
I found some articles on the death of the tourist’s child at the boardwalk. There was a detailed account of the grisly accident, complete with a photo of the crime scene tape barring entrance to the ride. Standing up, I peered over the railing of the book loft, down to Kirk at the counter.
“Am I able to print stuff out?”
“Yeah,” he called back. “The laptops are already linked to the wireless printer.”
“Thanks,” I said and sat back down.
I printed that article and one other, written a few weeks later, declaring the boardwalk closed. I found a piece by the Seattle paper that listed places for tourist to do a ‘Haunt Walk’ that included Noble Island as a place rumored to have unexplained happenings.
Stomach twisting, I read the account of a woman who, while searching for her lost dog in the woods near the beach, swore she saw a beast rise from the ground and give chase. Another man, a resident of Seattle who kept a cabin on Noble, complained of rumbling and unusual lightning flashes in the direction of the boardwalk.
Something in the search results caught my attention. This one was a blurb from the county assessor’s office. It was an announcement of the sale of the boardwalk land by the Hale family. The website was Seattle’s county clerk’s office and I skimmed it, not really understanding the legal jargon. The report included a detailed map of the area. I saw that the website accepted online payment and, on a whim, I requested a copy, and sent that to the printer, as well.
Footsteps on the stairs pulled my attention, and Kirk walked up with a stack of papers.
“Into the macabre, are we?” he asked and handed me the articles. “Bet you had no idea your island was so creepy.”
Flipping through the papers, I shook my head. “I knew it had its moments, but....”
“Well, if you’re interested, I know where the ‘Haunt Walk’ guy hangs out.” He refilled my coffee.
I flipped to the article. “You mean Coyote Stokes?” I raised a brow.
Kirk nodded, smiling. “He loves all that creepy stuff.” He turned, scanned the bookshelves, and went over to grab something. “He’s a graphic novelist. Tried getting his stuff published a couple of years back. Ended up going the self-pub route, but I heard these walks he’s doing are stirring up some buzz for his work.” He handed me a tattered copy of a graphic novel.
“Cave of Shadows?” I leafed through it. The art was exceptional, but very dark. “Is he for real?”
“No idea. But he’s a good guy and he really likes talking to people about the ghost stories and the real life events that inspired all the tales. I think he posted his business card.” Kirk walked over to the community cork board on the far wall, and removed a card. “If you’re really interested in hearing details, then Coyote is your guy.”
“Actually, I think I will go talk to him.” I took the card, smiling. “Thanks.”
“Well, don’t go giving yourself nightmares,” he called over his shoulder as he left.
Tucking the card in my purse, I read through the accounts of strange deaths, terrifying encounters, and supposed curses. Dread pooled in my gut.
What was happening to Noble?
18
Following Kirk’s directions, I found the ‘Haunt Walk’s’ starting location on the corner of the last street before the train tracks.
Coyote Stokes stood under a large pepper tree, squeezed into a sandwich sign announcing the tour in squiggly blood-red paint. His hair slicked back from a widow’s peak in a spiky black mohawk, and the multiple piercings in both ears seemed to elongate his lobes to elf-like points. Seeing me, he pitched his cigarette aside and pulled the boards over his head.
“You Raven?” He held out his hand and I shook it.
“Yes, thank you so much for meeting with me.”
Despite the neck tattoos and lip piercing, his eyes were warm and his smile friendly.
“I’m not ruining a tour am I?”
“Nah, the real crowds are on weekend nights.” He shrugged. “Tuesdays are not a big seller.”
“Kirk said you would speak with me about the strange happenings on Noble?”
“Sure, but…” he tilted his head, eyeing me, “aren’t you from there?”
“How do you—”
“You dress like the Romany there. Very…old world Europe, I guess? I studied your customs for my work.” He said. “Rich history.” He sounded professional despite his appearance.
I was struck by how deceiving first impressions could be. Smiling I smoothed hands down my flowing skirt. “Well, I’ve been away for a while,” I confessed. “And now that I’m back…”
“Something is off?”
I looked at him, startled. “Yes. Something feels very wrong.”
He looked at the screen of his cell phone. “It’s almost lunch. You want to grab a sandwich at the deli across the street? My buddy works there and he’ll let us take a back booth for as long as we want.”
Realizing I was hungry, I nodded. “That sounds good, actually.”
Franco’s Deli was every bit the homage to Italy its sweeping red and white checkered sign said it would be. Empty Chianti bottles hung from the rafters alongside plastic replicas of rope-bound cheeses and sausage links. Accordion ballads floated out of speakers in the corner of the room. Neon signs and team banners peppered the faux wood walls and a television played a soccer game over the ordering counter.
“That’s my friend Josh,” Coyote said as we passed the counter. A blonde man in an orange, stained apron stood, arms crossed, watching the soccer match.
We took a booth in back, and Josh walked over with a couple of sodas and a basket of bread.
“Thanks, buddy.”
“No worries.” Josh sounded Australian. “Super slow today.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He winked at me, nodded at Coyote, and walked back to the counter to watch the game.
Coyote stood, excused himself and walked to a cabinet at the end of the hall. He pulled out a drawer and took out what looked like a portfolio.
Returning, he smiled. “I keep stuff here to work on between tours.”
“Kirk said you did a lot of research into the tragedy over at the boardwalk?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Opening his portfolio, he spread some drawings out on the table between us. Some were what looked like earlier, rougher versions of what I saw in the graphic novel and others I didn’t recognize. He flipped through a stack and pulled out three, laying them out for me. “These are the ones.”
I swallowed, my mouth gone dry, as I took in the grisly scene of the Ferris wheel tragedy from all those years ago. In the drawings, a three-part sequence showed a teenager falling, his face a mask of fear. The second drawing depicted a teenage girl standing near the body, a shadowy form covering her mouth, and a police man with his back to her, examining the body. The third illustration was darker. A specter with an anguished expression pressed his face against the window overlooking the girl’s bedroom.
“What…where did you get this idea?” Sweat filmed my forehead; I pressed my sleeves to my face, hoping Coyote didn’t notice. “Someone told you stories and you came up with this?”
“I was working on the second edition, the follow up to Cave of Shadows, and ended up doing these.” He tilted his head, shook it. “I couldn’t really decide on what story to go with, though, so I kind of got stuck.”
“Stories?” I wondered what people would say about that night, especially to a stranger.
“Well, there are the rumors that this kid’s death was more than an accident.” He looked at me, stuck the tip of his tongue through one of the loops piercing his lip in a preoccupied gesture. “What I mean is, there are whisperings that something having to do with his death was covered up, but I never found anything to prove that.”
“But you drew it?” I ran my finger along the arc of the Ferris wheel and stifled a tremor. “Why?”
“The story is fascinating. This carnival, or boardwalk, was run almost exclusively by the Romany families who live on and around Noble…” his voice trailed off and he reddened. “Why am I telling you this? You know all of that.”
“No, go on.” I urged, forcing a smile.
“Well, after the dead kid’s family had the boardwalk shut down, a lot of Romany families suffered because of that. They lost the land they’d had for almost a century and some say that old magic was used to curse the whole area to keep anyone from using it again.”
“Curses and ghosts?” I shook my head. “This is all so dark, so sinister.”
“Yes, and with Noble’s strange weather and unusual population, the rumors keep building. I’m not sure what is true and what is embellished.” He shrugged, his brows furrowed. “Not to disparage your people, but from what I’ve heard, it’s hard not to believe that something weird went on that night. There were rumors of misconduct by the then sheriff, what some have called a ‘ruthless’ leader of your families, and large sums of money at stake. Those are all ingredients for something questionable.”
I put my hands up. I wasn’t offended, just disturbed. The more I learned the tighter my throat felt. “Your first graphic novel was about the caves boring into the side of the island…” I held up the magazine Kirk gave me. “Hidden treasure from Acadian explorers, that kind of thing. What made you switch gears to something so recent?”
He took the magazine and held it, his eyes softening. “Noble has a rich history of European families, fur traders and settlers, even the occasional exiled noble.” His voice hitched up with excitement as he spoke. “There are mysterious deaths and strange disappearances. You name it, and it probably happened on Noble. But what really got me going on this particular ghost tale were the widespread reports relating to it on record as recent as this year.”
Startled, I blinked, unable to quite understand what he was saying. “You’re saying people are reporting…what are they saying, exactly?”
“Strange noises in the woods around the boardwalk, particularly on moonless nights. Wailing, and crying. A group of teenagers went out there during a storm and swore up and down they saw a figure actually fall from the top of the Ferris wheel, but never hit the ground.”
“A–a figure?”
The form that chased me in the woods, the whispers on the wind. Could the Crawley boy be crying out from beyond? I stopped myself, I didn’t believe in those things, and yet the fingers of fear that slowly wrapped around my heart felt very real. What was happening to me?
“To be fair,” Coyote continued, “they were drunk and in the middle of a rain storm, but it fit with the other complaints from that area.”
“What other things have you heard?”
“That the land is cursed because of the violent death of a child.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “That his spirit is restless and seeks revenge because of some sort of cover-up. Also the land being disturbed has stirred up all sorts of strange happenings and sightings. Stuff like that.”
“So people believe the boardwalk is haunted?” I hugged myself. “Really?”
“Totally.” Coyote pulled a sheet of paper from his portfolio and handed it to me. Tapping it, he continued. “These are just a few incidents from this year.”
I read the police blotter report with growing dread. A woman reported a “ghostly creature” had chased her along the beach surrounding the woods near the boardwalk. She was a school teacher and perfectly sober at the time. She’d escaped by hiding in the hollow of a tree while it passed.
There were countless complaints of rumbling and strange thundering in the middle of the night. Boaters reported seeing glowing under the surface of the sea near Noble, unusual vibrations and unexplained blips on their boat radars. Several reports of unusual animal deaths in the forest and beach near the boardwalk made me think of the strange rabbit carcasses I’d encountered, and my stomach knotted.
“Can I take a picture of this?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady as I stood.
“Yeah, hey,” Coyote said, his hand going to my arm. “You never said why you felt things were off.”
“Just…sometimes secrets should stay buried.” I snapped a photo of the paper with my camera phone.
“Are you saying that these haunting stories are true? There’s really something supernatural going on out there on that island?” Coyote’s eyes went wide as he stood with me. “Seriously?”
“Isn’t that what people say?” I held up his depiction of the boy falling from the Ferris wheel with shaking hands. “That most legends have some truth to them?”
19
Siyah
“She is a child,” Siyah growled. “Is Lenora to call for her father every time she does not get what she wants? This is the woman you propose I take as a wife?”
He paced the living room of his father’s house, fists clenched at his sides, anger burning through him. His charcoal sweater and black pants were now too hot for the heated room. He pulled at his collar, frustrated.
“Are you saying she has no reason to be concerned?” Deakon sat in a wheelchair, his frail body wrapped in a blanket. “You were seen arguing with Raven on several occasions.”
“Yes, arguing,” Siyah answered, turning to face his father. “How is that a threat to Lenora?”
“Because it is a passionate act,” Deakon murmured. “Lenora is young, but not unwise.”
“Raven is here for her sister; she wants nothing to do with me.”
“And yet manages to be seen in your company often. Soon you will need to visit Yasmine for more sweaters, I am told.”
Siyah bit back a retort and stared out the window of his father’s home. The log cabin, larger than the other homes in the woods, commanded a view of the late afternoon sun swathed with slate clouds. Its eerie orange glow left the woods shrouded in shadows. Distant flashes from across the sea spoke of a coming storm.
“Lenora or her cousins broke into my home, took the dagger Raven made me, and destroyed her room at the Adder Inn. This is the behavior of a jealous adolescent, not a woman ready for marriage.” Siyah forced the anger from his voice. “If her father’s treatment of her at the bonfire wasn’t enough, Raven had to contend with finding Niklos, and then returning to find her room upended by vindictive girls.”
“Again, I am told that Raven ran straight into your arms when she did,” Deakon said, lifting the mug of tea with shaking hands.
