The Lodge (Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper Book 15) by Bryan JL

Author:Bryan, JL
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: jlbryanbooks.com
Published: 2021-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“What exactly are you up to out here?” Gary stepped out of his security cart, arms folded, dyed comb-over askew from his wild driving.

“Believe it or not, ghost hunting sometimes leads you right to the one cemetery in the area,” I said. “We’re setting up gear to watch for the entities that ran off the road crew.”

“Are you, now? Is that why you went breaking in during the middle of the night? Just tell me you didn’t…” He pointed his flashlight through the gate, checking Hank Grolman’s headstone, then the chapel door that stood open, revealing the mother and child statue within. “You did. That’s about as disrespectful a thing as I’ve ever seen.”

“Again, it’s just a chapel,” I said. “We’re here to do a job. And I don’t think Darika or Wyatt intend for you to get in our way and slow us down. What we accomplished here tonight—”

“I don’t care. It’s not right, and there ought to be a line. I told you, I grew up next to a graveyard, and they don’t like being bothered.”

“We are going to do whatever we need to do around here, Gary.” I glared at him with the kind of unblinking fury my mother would throw at me for trying to avoid chores on Saturday morning. “And we’re still waiting on access to your camera network.”

“And you’re gonna keep waiting.” Gary pulled out a ring of keys and started toward the cemetery gate.

“We’ll see what your boss says,” I told him, and he grunted, not looking back as he passed through the gate and headed for the chapel.

“Hey, at least we get to move all those tree limbs again,” Stacey said. “Good thing Gary didn’t see our van, or he might have caught us here.”

“Very funny, Stacey.” I sighed and trudged up the broken road into the woods.

Stacey and I returned to the lodge, to the card room where the jaguar watched us from atop its mock Mesoamerican-style stone pyramid with miniature steep stairs. An angry-looking harpy eagle the size of a dog perched above it, while a black caiman, a large Amazon River reptile in the mold of a crocodile or alligator, was mounted below, on a rock arrangement on the floor.

“Let’s see the footage you recorded at the cemetery,” I said. “We need a greatest hits collection to show Wyatt and Darika tomorrow so they get the impression we’re accomplishing something here.”

“Okay. I’ll include the audio from the dining hall party and whatever we’ve got of the Ghost Riders of Gravetown. I didn’t see a cowboy hat on that one guy, did you?”

I shook my head. “He had more of a Grim Reaper fashion sense.”

“Grim-looking horse, too. Poor thing looked like it hadn’t eaten in a hundred years. You really wanted to give it an apple or something.” Stacey connected her camera to her favorite laptop and downloaded the cemetery footage.

The shadowy man appeared much as we’d seen him in the cemetery, but he never became as clear on camera as he had in person as he walked up the moonlit road.

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