“So you own a box service, right?” Nate asked innocently as he reached for his fifth slice of pizza. “One of those get-a-box-every-month things?”
“Box Box,” Carson said.
Nate knew all this already, which meant he was asking for entertainment, rather than information.
“What is it, though?”
“Every month you get a curated selection of boxes,” Carson replied.
“What’s in the boxes?”
“Boxes. It’s a box full of boxes. We have themes, like bathroom boxes, or closet boxes, or gift boxes, kitchen boxes, garden boxes. Everyone needs boxes. We’re starting a new thing in a few months. We’re either going to call it Bag Box or Bag Bag. You get reusable bags. See all those fabric samples over there? Those are for the bags. I was Think Jamming them.”
“Why?” Nate said.
“Why what?”
“Why would you want a bag full of bags? Or a box full of boxes?”
“It’s environmentally friendly,” Carson replied.
“How?”
“Because you get the boxes so you don’t have to buy them. Same as the bags.”
“Isn’t it worse to send people a bunch of boxes they don’t need and then have them get rid of some of them? Especially when you add all the packaging, and the transport and everything?”
“It’s about convenience as well,” Carson said.
“How is it convenient to get a bunch of boxes or bags?”
“People like it,” Carson said, though more quietly. “We have over four hundred thousand subscribers. Anyway . . . we should get started.”
Nate happily chomped off half a slice of pizza in one bite as Carson gestured them over to the beanbags and sofas in the center of the room. Stevie, Janelle, and Nate moved
over, Nate taking a pizza box with him. Carson picked up a remote control. The lights dimmed gently and there was a soft whirring noise as a massive screen unfurled from the ceiling.
A title slide appeared on the screen.
THE BOX IN THE WOODS MURDERS,
JULY 6–7, 1978
“It’s important to set a sense of this town, this camp, at this time, because these murders are very much of a time and a place. . . .”
Stevie could tell at once that Carson had written this line in advance and was proud of it. He was testing out his podcast script, for sure.
“The 1970s were a different era. For example, information and communication were more limited . . .”
“Well, yeah,” Nate said. “That’s why their slasher films work. No one knows anything and no one can call for help.”
“Right,” Carson said. “And the lack of communication impacted safety. This is a time when everything was loose. Your comings and goings couldn’t be tracked. Everything relied more on word of mouth and who knew what. The world was smaller. The camp was an extension of the high school and the town—a closed loop. Everyone knew everyone. Which brings us to . . .”
BARLOW CORNERS
This slide featured a photo that Stevie had seen several times now; it was the image that pretty much every book or article or documentary on the case included. It was a color photo with a sepia tint, the colors washed out and overly bright at the same time. A group of people stood in front of an equestrian statue decked out in red, white, and blue bunting. Most of the people in the group were middle-aged. The men all wore Bermuda shorts with belts. The women wore dresses or pants that they would have referred to as “slacks.”