The details of all this were largely unknown to Stevie’s parents. They only knew that David had completed high school off campus, and that he was doing some kind of internship or work-study somewhere. All that mattered was that Stevie had a boyfriend—the perfect boyfriend, in their eyes—and therefore she had completed her mission.
It was the most infuriating thing that had ever happened, and it made Stevie want to scream all the time, but she also
wanted to maintain this weird peace that had been established so that she could get back to Ellingham in the fall, and then to college after that.
But what then? She had gotten in with the stated purpose of solving the Ellingham case. She’d done that. It was impossible, but she’d done it.
What do you do for your next act after that? What would she study? Where would she go from there?
It hit her every night, this weird emptiness, usually as she unclicked her seat belt and got out of the car, still smelling of grocery store deli department, biting her tongue so that she didn’t snap at her mom about the boyfriend thing.
As she climbed into bed, Stevie thumbed through her messages. Right after the Ellingham case broke, she had gotten many of them—media requests, strange influencer offers （“We think you’d be a great fit to promote our paleo meal kits”）， creepers, and people who wanted her to help find their lost relatives or dogs. The media requests had been okay, but they had petered out. The bizarre influencer offers had stopped. Stevie had sympathy for people who had missing relatives or dogs, but usually there was nothing that could be done from a distance. So really, it was just the creepers now. They were loyal.
Tonight there was one note about a lost cat, two messages that said “hi” and nothing else, and a random picture of a teddy bear holding a heart. But right in the middle, there was a subject line that stood out: “Camp Wonder Falls.”
There was only one Camp Wonder Falls.
Well, that probably wasn’t true. There might be a lot of places called Camp Wonder Falls. But there was one Camp Wonder Falls that was related to true crime.
She opened the message.
Stevie,
My name is Carson Buchwald, and I am the owner and founder of Box Box （you’ve probably heard of it）。 I’ve recently purchased a camp in western Massachusetts called Camp Sunny Pines. It used to be called Camp Wonder Falls. Yeah. That Camp Wonder Falls.
I am making a true-crime podcast/documentary about the Box in the Woods murders. I read about what you did at Ellingham Academy. I like to think outside the box （which is ironic, I know, because I run Box Box） . . .
（Stevie frowned at the screen.）
. . . and I thought of you right away. How would you like to come and work here this summer and look into the case with me? You could be a counselor at the camp, but mostly you could do what you need to do to look into the case. I can provide you with travel funds and pay you for your time. You can bring friends, if that sweetens the deal. It’s a camp—there’s plenty of room.
If you’re interested, get back in touch with me. I hope to hear from you.
Carson Buchwald
CEO and founder, Box Box
“It’s what’s inside that counts!”
Well. This was a development.
July 7, 1978
7:30 a.m.
THE MORNING’S PA BLAST RATTLED THROUGH THE TREES, STIRRING the birds.
“Good morning, Camp Wonder Falls! Welcome to another beautiful day!”
Brandy Clark shoved her face into her pillow and pressed it against her ears, trying to block out the announcement, the light, the birds, the sound of ten kids waking and laughing. Too soon. Too much morning.