Lure (26 page)

Trying to ignore her own arousal, Sam waited in the darkness for something to make itself known to her. So far it had only shown itself when she was drunk, or after certain strenuous activities, and Sam had to admit that Greg might be onto something. Perhaps the best thing to do was to set up the cameras and let nature take its course. Still she hadn't come here to make night vision porn, and the thought of Shells getting her hands on that footage was enough to quell any additional thoughts of on-camera antics. Instead, she concentrated on being still and tuning her senses to her surroundings. In the darkness, the lake continued to call to her, though its call was faint enough to make her wonder if it was her imagination. It was still relatively early, and the thought of sitting cross legged and waiting hours for 3:13 am to arrive made her eyelids feel heavy. She wondered if she would be able to make it that long. She had to. Something about that number was significant, and she couldn't risk sleeping through something important.

The sound of her stomach growling seemed especially loud in the stillness, and Greg chuckled. "Why did Shells have to mention pizza?"

"I have to admit," Greg said. "I can't argue with her this time. I'm hungry too. I wonder how long those two are going to be."

"There's just no telling," Sam said.

Chapter 15

The next morning yielded little more than empty pizza boxes and beer bottles; no evidence of the paranormal could be found. Even Greg's assertion that the ghosts must be attracted to the sound of mattress springs proved unfounded; though Sam did wake with a smile on her face. The frustrated group spent the morning hours reviewing audio and video footage to no avail, and the tedious work was doing nothing to raise the group's morale. Shells seemed as if she were on the verge of making some sort of smart remark when an odd sound reached the upper rooms of the Inn. It was tinny and harsh and completely undecipherable at first, and then Sam opened a window.

"…must evacuate before sundown," came the call of an in-car police address system. Sheriff vehicles drove slowly along highway 64 and the intent of their message was clear. Sam closed the window.

"You've got to be shitting me," Shells said. "I thought Mikey had lost his senses. Is this really happening?"

Greg didn't say anything but instead moved to stand alongside the window, looking out while trying to keep from being seen. "There's smoke."

Sam moved to his side and looked to where he pointed. "It doesn't look very convincing," she said. The column of black smoke that rose between the ridgelines was narrow and didn't seem all that menacing or in any way indicative of a raging forest fire. She slid the window open again, and the calls for evacuation were fading as they moved toward Chimney Rock. Sam put her face closer to the window and breathed in deeply. There was a smell on the air that didn't smell like any wood smoke she had ever encountered.

"Is it just me, or does that smell like a tire fire?" Greg asked.

"Leave it to a redneck like you to recognize the smell of burning tires from miles away, Greg," Shells said. He ignored her.

"It does smell like tires," Sam agreed. "I'm with Shells, though. I really didn't think Michael knew what he was talking about with this evacuation. What in the world is going on around here?"

Her question went unanswered. Moments later, all of them jumped when there came a knock at the door. Sam moved with tense anticipation to open the door, even though she doubted anyone had come to chase them off this soon.

Michael stood in the hallway with a victorious look on his face, and there was more than a hint of gloating in his voice when he addressed them, "I told you so."

"Wow, did you come up with that all on your own, Mikey? You have the heart of a poet, my friend; an arrogant and crow-like poet."

Michael's smile didn't fade. "We need to get your equipment stowed in the tunnel as soon as we can. Whatever is coming, it's big and I want to be able to document it. Can I count on you?"

"We've got your back, Mikey. Just give us a minute to get our shit together."

"OK. When you are ready, come down one at a time and make sure that none of the military types are casing the joint when you come through the lobby. If you see anything suspicious, just come back up here, hide the equipment and wait for me to come get you. Got it?"

"Rodger that, Scotty," Shells said. "We'll sneak through to the transporter unless there are Klingons about." Seeing Michaels disapproving look she added, "Dammit, Jim, I'm a ninja not a miracle worker!"

Michael glared at her for a moment. "Just make your way through the kitchens to the cellar if all is clear."

He left without saying any more, and Shells grinned at Sam. "I really love yanking his chain," she said.

"We noticed," Sam said. "Who wants to go first?"

Shells got into her Ninja stance and started doing her best impression of the theme to mission impossible as she gathered what gear she could carry without looking too suspicious. "If I don't make it, give this to the strawberry blonde and tell her I expect her to remain chaste until we can be together again!" She handed Sam a hastily scribbled note.

Maddie just shook her head and closed the door behind Shells. "I suppose we'll know if she doesn't make it. I expect she'll make a bloody racket if anyone tries to interfere with her."

"Of that you can be certain," Greg said in agreement.

Despite the fact that Sam didn't really expect any trouble, waiting in silence proved excruciating, and she kept looking over at the clock, wondering how long they should wait before sending anyone else down.

It was Greg who finally broke the silence. "I'm going down. I can't take this shit any more."

Sam and Maddie remained silent, but Sam couldn't argue with him. Part of her wanted to be the next to go, if for no other reason than to avoid having to wait in silence while wondering what was going on downstairs. It seemed nothing was more irritating than not knowing, and the suspense grew with each passing moment. Sam felt as if she would have a heart attack when the door to her room suddenly flew open and Greg came backing in. A question was forming on her lips when he turned and held a finger over his. Sam sat in silent suspense while Greg listened intently to the door. After a few tense moments, he turned back to her and Maddie.

"There are some pretty formidable looking fellows hanging around in the lobby down there, and Michael doesn't look happy at all. I think we should stay up here for a while and see if he comes to get us."

"Do you think Shells made it through without them seeing her?" Sam asked, unable to take it any longer.

"No real way to know, but I assume so," Greg said. "Michael did good and wouldn't look my way, so I have no indication from him; but that is for the best, otherwise those grunts would've seen me for sure. I just froze and did my best to get back up here without being seen."

"So now what do we do?" Sam asked.

"I guess we do what Michael asked us to do," Greg said with a hint of annoyance. "And stay away from the windows. We don't need anyone seeing us up here and coming to drive us out."

As if drawn by his words, Sam couldn't help but seek a few peeks out of the window. Each one seemed to annoy Greg even further, but Sam assured him that no one could see her, and she truly was gathering useful information. Highway 64 was now bumper-to-bumper traffic. With only a limited number of roads leading out of the valley, it was going to take a while to get everyone out of the Lake Lure area. Sam wondered how much of the surrounding area was being evacuated, but there really wasn't any way for her to know from their current vantage point. Instead, she tried to find a local news station on the television. Eventually she stumbled upon WLOS TV out of Asheville, and the evacuation of Lake Lure was among the top stories. Travelers were being advised to avoid Highway 64, Highway 9, and a stretch of Interstate 40. Video footage of the same helicopter they had been watching for days as it took water from the lake was the only footage that was shown except for some footage of the traffic jam as shot from someone's cell phone.

The weather forecast was next, and it showed a high-pressure system with expected clear skies and not much in the way of wind, which supported Michael's conspiracy theory; if there were no winds to drive the fire, there was probably little risk of the fire spreading into the valley. And even if it did come this way, there was certainly an abundance of water that could be used to battle the flames.

Soon the news was followed by sitcoms, and Greg turned off the television. "I'm going to try again," he said.

"But Michael said for us to stay here if we saw any of the military types downstairs," Sam said.

Greg gave her an annoyed look. "I know what I'm doing. If I see any sign of them, I'll just come back up, like I did the last time. I know how to keep from being seen."

"Oh yeah," Maddie said. "You're about as inconspicuous as mud on a white floor."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Greg asked.

"I don't know," Maddie said. "It's something my mother used to say, and I've been waiting for a chance to use it. Now seemed as good a time as any."

"Seriously, Greg," Sam said. "It might just be better to wait. It only takes getting seen once to get all of us carted out of here, and then we may never get to find out what this is all about. I don't know about you, but that would kill me. I really need to know."

Greg seemed torn. "I'll tell you what. I'll go scope things out but I won't take any of the equipment with me. If I get caught, I'll tell them that I'm alone and I'll let them ship me out of here. Fair enough?"

"I still don't like it," Sam said.

"I don't like it either, but I can't take it any more. Just sitting up here waiting is killing me."

"OK," Sam said. "Do what you need to do, but try not to be seen."

The look Greg gave her made it clear that she was stating the obvious. "I'll be right back."

Maddie looked at Sam when the door closed, and the look on her face conveyed the same level of anxiety that Sam was feeling. This was important to all of them at this point; they had come too far to be denied the truth. Sam already knew how much the unknown gnawed at her, and she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her sanity if she had to leave now. It just wasn't in her nature to let things drop; it was one of the things that had made her a good cop, even if it wasn't always the healthiest thing for her. The other people on the force had often warned her that there were times she would have to accept the fact that she might never know what really happened, but Sam had always ignored them, always driven to find out the truth.

Part of what bothered her about the paranormal research was that no one seemed to have ever found any hard evidence that was convincing enough to remove all doubt. Everything she had ever seen could be interpreted multiple ways; it always left some room for the skeptics to dismiss it. That was part of the reason she was so determined to capture irrefutable evidence despite the fact that part of her knew it might be impossible. In this age of technology where there were so many sensors and devices that could capture evidence, there were equally as many ways to tamper with or fabricate evidence, which made her position all the more frustrating. In the end she decided that the only one she really had to prove anything to was herself; the rest could doubt all they wanted. She would know the truth, and that would have to be good enough.

Deep in her thoughts, her heart jumped once again when Greg returned looking no less calm than the last time.

"They're still down there," he said in a whisper. "There are two of them, and they look to be on high alert. There's no way I'm going to be able to slip past them, and they aren't letting Michael out of their sight. I think we might be on our own on this one."

After a couple minutes of contemplation, Sam said, "Just a minute. I have an idea."

"What's that?" Greg asked.

A moment later, Sam was rifling through her baggage and then she turned to Greg and Maddie with a wicked smile; in her hands were two string bikinis. "Maddie's not quite going to fit in either of these, but that will only work to our advantage."

Greg and Maddie returned her smile.

"Now that might just work," Greg said.

* * *

Somehow the string bikini seems even smaller when worn specifically to get the attention of a couple strangers. For Maddie the effect had to be even greater since Sam's bikini only covered a small portion of her ample bosom. Greg crouched in the shadows with a bag that held the rest of their equipment and a change of clothes for both of the girls. Neither girl wanted to imagine completing this adventure without something a bit more substantial to wear. The evenings could get a bit chilly after all.

The problems they faced became even more difficult when they reached the bottom of the stairs and only one of the grunts stood near Michael. The man saw them immediately, and Sam instantly recognized the communications unit looped over the man's ear. Fortunately, Sam and Maddie had used some forethought; both carried MP3 players and had earbuds in their ears; Maddie carried a bottle of sunscreen.

When Michael saw them, his expression was a mixture of relief and annoyance. Sam bobbed her head to an imagined beat, and Maddie swayed to a tune in her head. Michael waved to them and urged them to come to him. Sam made a show of stopping the music and bounced her way to where Michael and the other man stood. The other grunt had taken up a position not far from the kitchen doors—most inconvenient. With as vapid a grin as she could muster, Sam jiggled as much as she could. "Hi y'all!"