Page 80 of The Girl in the Mist

“I never mentioned his name to her,” I point out. “I never said anything about who lived in the house where she was held, or the fact that there were two houses on the property. But she said I must have searched the wrong house, that there was another one. And then she mentioned him by name when we were talking about the blood. We haven’t said anything about searching his house or bringing him in for questioning. The media doesn’t even know he has anything to do with this investigation. So, how wouldshe?”

“You’re right. And think about what she said during the interview. At the end when the reporter asked her how she was able to get through being hurt and exhausted and so scared because of this unknown man was after her, she said she was thinking about her friends. How she needed to be theirvoice.”

I nod, feeling our theory picking up steam. “Only, she wouldn’t have any idea about those deaths. If her story was true, she was abducted before anybody else was murdered. Except, maybe, for the Barretts. But she wouldn’t know about that. And she wouldn’t have known about any of the campers or counselors being murdered. She specifically said that the killer didn’t say anything to her the entire time. And if he didn’t say anything, how would she have known that he’d killedanybody?”

“Exactly. But who is the other person? Merriweather? If she was helping him, why would she give him up? Why fake the injuries and the whole story, then turn in the person you helped commit the crimes? Wouldn’t she know he would turn her in as well?” he wonders. “Or that there would be noevidence?”

“Maybe that was the point,” I say. “Jacob is obsessed with his father’s crimes. He believes there are far more victims that nobody has ever associated with Reginald. And the entire story of what happened has never been told. Maybe he got so deeply wrapped up in his research and reliving what his father did that he began to want to know what it was like. Can you imagine anything bringing more attention to a book than the author being not only the son of a convicted mass murderer, but also having been accused of committing copycat murdershimself?”

“You think he intended on being turned in, but knew there would be no evidence and so he couldn’t be convicted?” Garrisonsays.

“Maybe. When his father confessed, the evidence they had was that confession and the fact that he was able to lead them to Mary Ellen’s body. But he didn’t even murder Mary Ellen. Not directly. There was very little evidence. Maybe Jacob wanted to make things straight. To show what his father was capable of… getting away with mass murder. And in order to get it right, he needed a girl todisappear.”

“He needed his version of Mary Ellen,” Garrisonsays.

“Yes. Miranda is perfect. Beautiful. Popular. The girlfriend of the head counselor who is admired by everyone. So much like Mary Ellen andBrad.”

“But how would he convince her to be a part of it? What would he say to her to make her willing to comply with something so horrific?” he asks.

“That’s thequestion.”

“Agent Griffin, I told you. I had absolutely nothing to do with this. How many times do I have to prove this to you?” Jacob asks as I stalk through his houseagain.

“How would she have known your name?” I counter. “And do you really think it’s reasonable to ask people to believe she planned a trick like that only to then be abducted by an actual killer? That it was just a convenientcoincidence?”

“Not such a convenient coincidence,” Jacob points out. “You’re acting like it was just a random day. You seem to forget that the night they were murdered was the twentieth anniversary of the 1964 massacre. It was the perfect time to play gruesome jokes and tell horror stories around the fire. But it was also the first time in twenty years that there were campers on that campground. If there was someone who wanted to commit a copycat murder, that was the night to do it. A perfectstorm.”

“You still haven’t explained how she knew your name or that she was able to describe your father’s house. I had a team search it again. They found the room in the basement. The same one she described. How do you explain that?” Iask.

“My father was a monster!” he screams at me. “I’ve told you that. He was a vicious, sadistic murderer who kept girls as playthings until he was done with them. The Camp Hollow massacre was not his first kill. It wouldn’t be his last. His name isn’t attached to any of the other victims, but that’s what I’m trying to change. I don’t care if anyone knows who I am. I don’t care about getting myself attention or notoriety. I loved my father and in a lot of ways, I still love him. But I have to grapple every day with the reality of who he was. I have to deal with the fact that he was a brutal, horrible man and the path of destruction he carved covers an unimaginable space.

“I would never do anything like he did. I would never hurt anyone like that. I’m not writing this book so that I can get fame. I’m writing it so that the people I believe he killed can have their stories told. These are people that time has forgotten. The police have given up trying to solve their murders. Some of them are still considered missing. I have spent every waking moment going through journals that make me physically ill to read, hoping I’ll find some bit of information that will help me find them and to have their cases closed. Their families deserve to know what happened to them. They deserve to be able to bury their loved ones and to rest knowing that the person who was responsible for taking them away from them is never going to hurt anyone else. That room exists because he put it there. If she described it, it’s because she saw it, but I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t bring her downthere.”

He pauses. “The break-in. Remember, I told you about it. Someone broke into the house a while back. It could have beenher.”

I look into his eyes, hoping he’s telling the truth, but still not sure. I’m not sure of anythinganymore.

“Why would she do this? She’s not from Cherry Hill. She has no ties to this community, no reason to know anything about it. Why would she commit these murders?” I ask. “And who was shehelping?”

“There was another person who was hurt in all of this. Who lost so much and then wasforgotten.”

My pager beeps on my hip and I check it. “It’s Sam. I need to go. Don’t goanywhere.”

I gather myself and head to thedoor.

“You’re right on their heels, Emma. They’ve been right there beside you this entire time, watching you unravel the knots they tried to tie. They know you’re figuring it out. They know that they don’t have much time and they are going to find a way to end this,” he calls after me. “There’s evidence somewhere that’s going to prove it. At the Barrett’s house, or on that truck, or in the camp. The piece you need is there. It has to befound.”

Before I step off his porch, I turn around and point forcefully at him. “You are going to stay here,” I say. “Do not move. Do not go anywhere. Do not open the door. Do you understand me?”

I rush out of the house and to my car, jumping in and speeding toward the police station. He can’t be right. Detective Garrison can’t be behind this. Even as I say it to myself, I can see the veil slipping away, revealing details that fall into place too perfectly for my comfort.

He suffered for years after losing Mary Ellen. He couldn’t cope with her loss or the thought that her killer was someone he knew and had even once considered a friend. Even more than that, he couldn’t accept that the investigators, with him right there supporting them, hadn’t been able to see that he was guilty when the first massacre happened. It led to him refusing to accept Reginald’s confession. As long as he refused to accept it, he could keep telling himself that the real killer was still out there. That it was someone who they’d never even considered.

But as the twentieth anniversary of the killings came closer, he hadn’t found answers. He was angry and hurt. He didn’t want the camp reopened or for anyone to go near the grounds again. I don’t know if he knew about Mary Ellen’s pregnancy when it happened or how long it took him to figure it out. Thatis enough pain and rage to fuel a massacre.

He would have been able to arrange each piece of it perfectly. As a detective, he would be trusted enough to be welcomed into the Barrett’s home. He knew the camp well enough to find his victims. And he was influential enough to woo Miranda just as he made Mary Ellen fall in love with him years ago.

It makes sense, but I don’t want it to. I don’t want to believe it. There was too much shock and hurt in his eyes throughout the investigation. He was too hardened when talking about Reginald Merriweather and too genuinely crushed by receiving Brad’s ring. I can’t wrap my mind around him being behind this. And yet, I’m being driven right into that reality.

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