True believer - Nicholas Sparks [72]
“It’s to make sure no one tampers with the equipment. The flour is so I can check for footprints, and the thread will let me know if anyone else approaches.”
“That’s very clever. But you know we’re alone out here, right?”
“You can never be certain,” he said.
“Oh, I’m certain. But you just do your thing, and I’ll keep the camera pointed in the right direction. You’re doing great, by the way.”
He laughed as he opened the bag of flour and began pouring, circling the cameras with a thin white layer. He did the same around the microphones and other equipment, then tied the thread to a branch and formed a large square around the whole area as if closing off a crime scene. He ran a second thread about two feet lower and then hung small bells on the thread. When he finally finished, he made his way back to Lexie.
“I didn’t know there was so much to do,” she said.
“I guess you’re developing a whole new level of respect for me, huh?”
“Not really. I was actually just trying to make conversation.”
He smiled before nodding toward the car. “I’m going to go hit the lights on the car. And hopefully, none of this will have been in vain.”
When he shut off the engine, the cemetery turned black and he waited for his eyes to adjust. Unfortunately, they didn’t, the cemetery proving to be darker than a cave. After feeling his way back to the gate like a blind spelunker, he stumbled on an exposed root just inside the entrance and nearly fell.
“Can I have my night-vision goggles?” he shouted.
“No,” he heard her respond. “Like I said, these things are neat. And besides, you’re doing fine.”
“But I can’t see anything.”
“You’re clear for the next few steps. Just walk forward.”
He moved forward slowly with his arms outstretched before stopping.
“Now what?”
“You’re in front of a crypt, so move to your left.” She sounded way too amused by this, Jeremy thought.
“You forgot to say ‘Simon says.’”
“Do you want my help or not?”
“I really want my goggles,” he almost pleaded.
“You’ll have to come and get them.”
“You could always come and get me instead.”
“I could, but I won’t. It’s much more fun to see you wandering around like a zombie. Now move to your left. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
The game proceeded this way until he finally found his way back to her side. As he took a seat, she slipped the goggles off, grinning.
“Here you go,” she said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem. I’m glad I could help.”
For the next half hour or so, Lexie and Jeremy rehashed the events of the party. It was too dark for Jeremy to read Lexie’s face, but he liked how close she felt in the enveloping darkness.
Changing the topic of conversation, he said, “Tell me about the time that you saw the lights. I heard everyone else’s story tonight.”
Though her features were nothing but shadows, Jeremy had the impression that she was being drawn back in time to something she wasn’t sure she wanted to remember.
“I was eight years old,” she said, her voice soft. “For whatever reason, I’d started having nightmares about my parents. Doris kept their wedding picture on the wall, and that was the way they always looked in the dream: Mom in her wedding dress and Dad in his tuxedo. Only this time, they were trapped in their car after it had fallen in the river. It was like I was looking at them from outside the car, and I could see the panic and fear on both their faces as water slowly filled the car. And my mom would get this real sad expression on her face, like she knew it was the end, and all of a sudden, the car would start sinking faster, and I’d be watching it descend from above.”
Her voice was strangely devoid of emotion, and she sighed.
“I’d wake up screaming. I don’t know how many times it happened—it just sort of blurs together now in one big memory—but it must have gone on long enough for Doris to realize it wasn’t just a phase. I suppose other parents might have taken me to a therapist, but Doris . . . well, she just woke me up late one night and told me to get dressed and put on a warm jacket, and the next thing I knew she’d brought me here. She told