“Was this supposed to be some kind of test?” Nate asked.
“I don’t think so,” Stevie said. “It was for the show, wasn’t it?”
“Sometimes you need to prime the pump,” Carson said. “A little drama to get things going.”
“And your plan was to freak us out and make us feel like someone was sneaking into our cabin and leaving threatening messages?” Janelle said.
“You were never in any danger!” Carson said.
“How did we know that?”
“But you weren’t,” he said a bit less enthusiastically.
“So the plan was to fake this message thing and then what?” Stevie said. “Have it be part of the case? Make it seem like someone was trying to stop the podcast?”
“Well, yeah,” he said.
“And you didn’t think people might be annoyed by that?” Nate asked. “Like, people listening? To know that you faked threats against yourself?”
“Well, the idea was for no one to know . . .”
“When were you going to tell us?” Stevie said.
He reached deep into his messenger bag and pulled out a balled-up bag in a wood pattern.
“Have one. It’s the bag from the wood pattern in your cabin. I was going to tell you soon, because I knew you were alarmed. See, I even brought the bags.”
He tossed one to Stevie, who let it land on the ground.
“I’m going back,” Janelle said, shaking her head. “I have to talk to Vi.”
She looked to Nate.
“Oh, I’m staying,” Nate said, settling in. “This is absolutely my Think Jam.”
Stevie faced off with Carson, who looked altogether too happy for someone she had just busted for leaving creepy messages. He had the glowing contentment of a man who fully believed that he was one with the cosmos, feeling all the feels.
“So we’re clear,” Stevie said, “I’ll still work on this case, but I do it my way, which means never faking stuff.”
“No, I’ve got it, I—”
She held up a hand.
“I’m doing this on my own,” she went on. “I’ll talk to people.”
“And then we’ll—”
He just would not stop.
“I’ll,” she said, “tell you if I find anything. But these are real people. Janelle and I are real people. I know you have the money and you own this place, but you don’t own this town or their pain. We’re supposed to be helping. You’re not helping.”
If Carson was embarrassed by being dressed down by
a seventeen-year-old girl at his camp, he certainly didn’t show it.
“I hear what you’re saying,” he said.
Nate shook his head in warning.
“Now you’re going to answer some questions,” Stevie went on. “Were the floors of the bunks always concrete?”
This clearly threw Carson for a loop.
“Always,” he said. “In case of flooding. Sometimes the lake spills over the banks.”
“Were they redone, or are these the originals?”