A Dangerous Kind of Girl

A Dangerous Kind of Girl

by

McKenzie Devlin

September 2016 | Copyright © 2016 McKenzie Devlin

Smashwords edition. ISBN 9781370512539

All rights reserved. Unauthorized reproductions are prohibited.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior written consent of the distributor or author. Print version is available. This is the second book in the White Rock Series. This book is a work of fiction. The names, people, places and events are an invention, imagination, fantasy, created by the author for purposes of entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

McKenzie Devlin's Website | Follow on Twitter

Other books by this author:

White Rock

Building 6

The Everyday Zombie Handbook

The Unexpected Zombie

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Camp

Chapter 2 - The Office

Chapter 3 - Handyman

Chapter 4 - Spies

Chapter 5 - Bad Situations

Chapter 6 - The Grand Re-opening

Chapter 7 - Gone But Not Forgotten

Chapter 8 - Sighting

Chapter 9 - Decisions

Chapter 10 - Return of Darkness

Chapter 11 - Bad Things Come in Threes

Chapter 12 - Busted

Chapter 13 - Bodyguard

Chapter 14 - Five Seconds

Chapter 15 - Curse Me All You Want

Chapter 16 - You Know Where to Find Me

Chapter 17 - The Secret Partner

Chapter 18 - What Has to be Done

Chapter 19 - The Rotted Forest

Chapter 20 - True Evil

Chapter 21 - Tricks of the Mind

Chapter 22 - Secrets to Keep

Chapter 1

Camp

table of contents

Michael grasped her icy hand tighter. Kris was difficult to assess as she walked quietly alongside him. The absence of warmth in her touch pointed to an ongoing battle of nerves. Finally after what seemed like a very long hike from the truck parked down below, they arrived at a blackened pit. A spindly tower of burnt rocks was the only thing standing, marking where the grand fireplace once stood.

It wasn't just a nightmare, Kris said.

Unfortunately. Michael clasped her hand tighter.

I'm sorry for dragging you out of your way. Kris tore her gaze from the pile of charred remains, twisted wire and unidentifiable scorched objects.

You're not, Michael said.

Were they able to salvage anything? Kris asked and gazed back at the destruction of the great Willow Camp hall.

Not really, Michael said in a low voice.

Kris stepped forward, releasing from his protection.

Let's get over to camp, he suggested, enough with this.

We will, Kris barely spoke. She walked on top of burnt remains from what used to be the entrance hall. She crouched down to touch chalky earth.

Come on Kris. Let's get out of here. Michael didn't want to waste anymore time gawking over the ghastly cooked remains of White Rock. He worried Kris's return was too soon. The insistence that they reunite for the sake of a strained relationship was perhaps out of her fear. Or a growing anxiety of being alone.

Kris didn't want to vocalize to Michael her horror and shock. It would pass in time but by saying anything just then, she risked confirmation of his worry and assessment that this was way too soon. It pained Kris to admit he was right. White Rock was unknown to her now. The green, lush splendor of it was a distant memory.

Come. I want to show you something, Michael said. Kris slid her hand into his again and gingerly began walking.

Wait. She stalled and peered backward. In the distance the deep hum of a motor rumbled.

It's just the machines and tractors. Michael squinted in the midday sun.

I know, but, Kris brushed hair from her face, why aren't they working over here? Isn't the new hall going to be constructed where the old one was?

I was going to talk to you about that. Michael gazed down upon her.

Kris frowned, Where are they putting it then?

They won't be building a new hall for some time, he said

Disappointment and bits of anger cropped up. Prior to getting ready and packing for the return, Kris spent a great deal of time alone in a small apartment in Mathersville. Michael was heavily persuaded to be the interim administrator therefore his return to White Rock had been months prior to hers. Although both of them conversed on the phone every day, he had not been too terribly descriptive of the construction details.

A temporary tent structure is going up soon, he said, trying to appease her distress.

Oh a tent structure - Kris nodded and continued down a rock lined path. Visions of an ugly tent structure produced a small knot in her stomach. At least they planned to build a formal hall in the future.

Kris stepped up her pace. Michael was a busy man now. Taking time out of his daily schedule at the park to pick her up in Porter Town had wasted precious hours. Kris wanted to get out of his hair but at the same time she just wanted to be alone. Oddly, to grieve. There were details she didn't want to know, at least not yet. Maybe not ever.

Kris was mystified at Michael's ability to handle change and new responsibilities. The little she had come to know about him, he was quite used to being uprooted and dealing with unpredictable situations. Kris wasn't so resilient, and therefore crept around in a dark mental prison looking for the way out. Or a light switch at the very least. Illumination that would lead her out of the shadow of last summer.

They climbed aboard a large white truck parked on a crude dirt road. Part of the new master plan included easier access for tourists and approved more roads for service vehicles. Most of the camps were still unreachable by automobile, and if tourists couldn't use their car effectively in the park, they just wouldn't come. Without the droves of visitors there wasn't the flow of money, another large detail headquarters in Washington was quite concerned about.

How do you work this? Kris fiddled with the heater controls on the console of the truck.

Cold? Michael quickly pressed a button and warm air flowed from large vents.

Yes. Not used to these temps yet. Kris shuddered, rubbing her arms. Mathersville was a good 20 degrees warmer than the park. It was the tail end of winter. White Rock was deemed safe for personnel and construction crews to start the clean up process.

I put a kerosene heater in your tent, Michael said, hoping something would spark conversation from Kris.

Do I really have to stay in a darn tent? I mean, you can bend the rules now. Why can't we stay together at the employee housing? Kris muttered.

Believe me, you don't want to stay up there. Too much upheaval. I doubt I'm going to be sleeping at my old place.

So what does that mean? You'll sleep at the office? Kris asked.

I have been. I put a cot in the hallway. Well, until today.

For god's sake, Michael. That's not right. You need a proper place to sleep.

Michael took her hand and kissed the underside. I know.

A smile graced the corner of her mouth.

The inference was short lived as Michael slammed on the breaks to allow an enormous grading tractor to rumble past.

Neither said a word for several moments. The darkness of last summer crept back in absence of speech. The situation remained precarious much to Michael's reassurance that White Rock was free of danger. Her job was to trust him, but he needed to create the atmosphere in which trust could be gained.

Well, Kris grasped at something else to talk about, I'm glad I brought extra jackets then. She smiled weakly at him and then stared out the window. Normally the park was at rest, asleep under a thick white blanket of snow. The winter had been cold but lacking much precipitation. Idle talk of the ground being so warm from the fire, it melted any snow that dare accumulate. Michael wasn't buying such an ignorant, preposterous explanation. Low snow pack probably meant a shift in weather patterns, perhaps even a drought.

Here we are. Michael parked alongside a row of burnt trees piled up like toothpicks.

Goodness, Kris tried to contain her reaction. Quite an encampment.

Don't worry. The construction crew won't be staying over here. Michael jumped out and walked around to open her door.

Okay I guess. The fact that I can see trees way off in the distance, helps, Kris motioned.

Michael smiled.

Good. She was finding something positive.

Let's get your things. I have a meeting in half an hour. You can come if you want, Michael said.

Kris scrunched up her face. No offense but I'd rather not.

Michael grabbed three big canvas duffel bags from the truck bed and strode down a rocky path. This area was once the tent camp for visitors. In the absence of the green meadow, the clearing presently resembled something out of the old west, a make shift mining town. Large, heavy canvas platform tents were erected and situated in rows. Several other trailers were parked at the far end of the camp. Kris hurried to keep up with Michael's fast pace.

Several people milled around but mostly the area was quiet and removed from the bustling construction zone.

Home sweet home? Kris stood with hands loosely on her hips and hair laying flat against her head. Michael stomped up the wooden steps and put her bags inside. He made great haste in rolling up the large flaps in front and tying them back. Kris took a deep breath and entered.

What do you think? It'll be okay? Michael glanced about, hiding his concern.

Kris pressed her lips together and said nothing.

You can open those other flaps for air, he said.

Yeah, I get it. Not my first time in a tent. Kris wasn't sure about this crude dwelling. She liked to go camping and explore nature but actually living in the great outdoors was another thing entirely. She needed time to process everything. Thoughts vividly turned to her old clapboard cabin, now a pile of ash.

Here. See this? It's a kerosene heater. Should warm things up quite nicely. Michael motioned to the cylindrical device, Want me to show you how it works?

Kris sat down on a cot, which promptly gave a sharp squeak. She sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact with Michael. Even though he was in a practical mindset, the stupid heater was the least of her concerns.

You won't have to sleep on that thing long. Mattresses are being delivered next week.

That so? Kris rubbed her eyes. It was the situation, not the cot that was hard to grasp. Michael sat down beside her and put a warm hand on her leg.

Tell me again why I'm here? Kris's voice was low and scratchy.

He knew this was coming. She was having regrets.

You don't need me to remind you, Michael said softly.

What does that mean? I had two choices - stay behind and never see you, or come back and hope that they find a permanent administrator who can take over so you can leave.

Michael let go of a heavy breath. Kris, I don't want to do this again.

What? Re-hash this conversation? I had to come and you know it.

You're nervous, which is to be expected. The situation right now is not ideal -

Ideal? Kris stood. Ideal? I'm going to live in this refugee camp while you are across the park in a building with actual walls and running water. Let's not try and gloss over this situation."

And that's why I told you to stay in Mathersville.

Yes you 'told' me. When would I see you? Every other weekend? Once a month? You wouldn't be able to get away. Michael, you already know the insane amount work it's going to take to put this park back together. When the heck are they hiring the permanent admin? Kris put her hands on her hips.

They haven't found anyone yet. Michael glanced at the floor and then out the open door flaps.

Exactly. So you get to play boss while headquarters screws with our lives?

Michael knew her frustration was not because of the camp or tent or his temporary position as park administrator. He moved closer and wrapped his arms slowly around her.

He is not here. And even if he was to show up, I will do everything in my power to protect you. Michael reached for the kindest voice as humanly possible. Kris closed her eyes and let his protective nature engulf her. She gave in to the embarrassing fact that she was still haunted by Adam.

Tell me why he didn't return, she whispered into his shoulder. It was a topic they had covered thoroughly in the months prior.

You know why, Michael said.

Tell me again.

He kidnapped and left you for dead. He would be a fool to come back, knowing the consequences, Michael spoke with an even tone.

Maybe his arrogance will side step the thought of any consequences, don't you think?

Perhaps but I doubt it. He didn't like lying to her. Fact of the matter was that Adam probably would not be able to stave off dark curiosity, and would certainly entertain the thought of a return to White Rock. Michael hoped his assessment was dead wrong.

Kris sat down on the cot again.

It's a lot to take in. Michael rubbed his forehead. We knew it would be. You don't see a lot of your buddies around, do you? They declined to return. And for good reason.

Kris nodded squinting at the midday light outside. She needed to hear these reminders from Michael. Her anxiety was working overtime to digest the strange familiarity of the park but also new insecurities surrounding her ex-boyfriend. Michael would try to do everything in his power to prevent Adam from harming her but she silently feared that if Adam was able to shirk law enforcement and a wide spread investigation once before, he could very well do it again.

She needed time to morn the loss of White Rock. At least the one she had come to know so well over past years. The national park had challenged her, soothed her, provided a home and employment. This place she found herself in the middle of now was a total stranger.

All of the park look this bad? Kris stood and brushed dirt off her pants.

No. The waterfalls are partially frozen. Rather pretty. Michael didn't want to leave her in this saddened state but he was increasingly late for a meeting.

I'll come pick you up for dinner. He walked to the edge of the wood platform.

Okay. Kris leaned up to kiss him gently.

Michael wasn't so interested in a quick peck on the mouth and therefore mated his lips to hers, implementing a proper kiss. Kris pulled back after a moment and bore her gaze into his dark, fiery eyes.

Red Devil Cliffs didn't get hit by fire, he said.

Ah. Well, I certainly know where to hike then. She crossed her arms.

Perhaps a drive? Or something else - Michael said with a sly smile and left her to ponder the implied meaning.

Mmm. Of course, Kris said to herself. No surprise as to why he slipped in the little teasing inference. Red Devil Cliffs was a little reminder of steamy memories. Okay, maybe a large reminder. A hot summer night drive at his insistence that she largely distrusted, yet by the time it was all over she had experienced severe vulnerability, a torn dress and a side to Michael to which she has never forgotten.

One thing was different this year, distraction wasn't going to cast a spell so easily. She was going to achieve mental and emotional strength and remain very aware of everything happening around her.

~ ~ ~

After two hours of unpacking and tidying up her little canvas home, Kris noticed the tense muscles in her next begin to release. Oddly she found that the smell of the new canvas material was a bit like a fresh pair of running shoes. She assumed the scent wouldn't last long. The kerosene heater had a peculiar smell as well and with all the dirt and dust in the air from the tractors working just beyond the camp, the tent would surly smell like a musty old tourist cabin soon enough.

The absence of chirping birds and breezes rushing through pine trees was heartbreaking. At times eerie stillness enveloped the camp but mainly there was a constant growl of construction vehicles and equipment.

Hey in there. You missed orientation, a sharp voice spoke.

Heart racing, Kris stood quickly and pushed the tent flaps back. Not twenty yards from her platform steps, two young females hovered on crude wooden planks. These rough boards served as the walking path through the middle of camp since the ground was too soft and swampy to allow for normal foot traffic. Small scattered piles of slushy snow remained but they were melting fast. A stark reminder that the cold season was just ending.

Hello? Kris narrowed her eyes.

Orientation was yesterday. Everyone had to go, one girl said.

Yes I'm aware of that, Kris said.

So why weren't you there?

Kris padded down the steps and faced the young females.

Hi, she held out her hand to greet them, Kris Bay.

A look of reservation and hesitation remained with both girls.

Oh - you're the one? Sorry, we didn't realize.

I'm who, exactly? Kris frowned.

We heard about you. Boyfriend totally went nuts - right?

A sharp stabbing sensation hit Kris between the eyes and she caught herself quickly before lashing out. So here it was, not even her first full day and already the gossip was knee deep. No time like the present to regurgitate the vague explanation she practiced in her head months prior.

My ex-boyfriend went nuts, yes.

They catch him yet? one of the girls asked in a small voice. She was winding brassy yellow hair tightly around a finger, then would yank it hard and let it bounce back into her curly mane.

Kris cleared her throat, Not that I'm aware of.

That must piss you off. The other girl spoke with a raw edge to her voice. No doubt a bully. Kris had seen it a thousand times over past seasons at the park.

I suppose it makes me upset, Kris said.

Why did you come back? the shy one asked, but darted her eyes away.

Her new boyfriend is the director, the other girl replied.

Kris took a shallow breath, Uh, so there are many reasons, actually. But I'm not staying that long. I'll probably see what work they have for me and you know, lend a hand wherever. Kris winced and involuntarily clenched her fists. Growing highly uncomfortable, she really didn't want to answer pointed questions just then. Her plan involved expounding on this stuff later on, after assimilating with the camp. After they could get to know her as a person first. Explaining her personal life to strangers was awkward and the loosely rehearsed details in her mind failed to materialize. Kris found herself quite exposed and hot anger bubbled to the surface.

My name's Whitney, the shy one offered finally.

Nice to meet you. Kris didn't know why but she liked this one.

Ava Bettencourt. Clearly still suspicious, the bossy girl cocked her hips sideways and glared at Kris.

Thanks for informing me about the meeting. I'll try and make the next one. Kris grappled with a lack of sincerity. She had no plans to attend meetings.

It's just a stupid summer job for us. We're out of here in August, Ava said.

Yeah. We're part of a youth rehab program. Whitney nervously glanced at Ava.

Oh I see, Kris said. Well I need to get going. Maybe I'll catch you later. The meeting of these two had run it's course. Void of intelligence conversation now, Kris made an excuse about unpacking, which she had already done. Truthfully, she was anxious to get a glimpse of the shower facilities and then a peek at the site of the future dining hall.

Bye Kris, Whitney said softly.

Whatever, Ava waved her hand in the air and yanked on Whitney's sleeve.

Kris entered the tent momentarily until they were out of sight and then started off in a different direction. As she stumbled along the wood planks she felt a twinge of anger seep up.

Youth rehab?

What the hell was going on? White Rock's strict standards must have lapsed. Of course Adam managed to gain employment, being the corrupt demon he was. What sort of problems were these rehab kids coming from? Broken homes, drugs, high school drop outs perhaps. What lousy candidates to work at the fire stricken park. Kris kicked a rock so hard she cried out from sharp pain but caught herself. Always fearful of a strange set of spying eyes, she glanced around, however there was nobody.

The tough act with that one girl, 'Ava', made a world of sense now. She seemed the type to hold a massive grudge against the world. The other female was obviously treading cautiously for good reason. Kris made a mental note to find out more from Michael.

Soon enough she arrived at a large white trailer with the wheels removed. A trailer that looked ugly and out of place, even against the ravaged landscape. She grasped the metal door knob and slowly peered inside. Kris gingerly stepped into a large room with shower stalls on one side and toilet stalls opposite. Hardly an ounce of privacy. Signs were tacked to the walls. No more than two parties could shower at the same time due to lack of water pressure. Showers were limited to five minutes. No feminine hygiene products to be flushed down the toilets. The room smelled heavily of professional strength cleaner. Kris paced around. The floor felt uneven like she would fall through at any minute. A far cry from the old stone shower building at the former staff camp. Kris would of rather seen moss growing on the walls than toilet stalls without doors.

Kris left the trailer and wondered if she could survive without a shower indefinitely. She settled on the notion that she would find a way to deal with the trailer situation. Somehow. But it was one more awful reminder, along with the rehab girls, that things had really changed.

A bike was definitively in order. She needed better transportation, especially with Michael's busy schedule. Bicyclists were forced to use the primary roads, which were not wide enough to accommodate the larger cars of the modern day and therefore room for both cars and bikes was lacking. Kris envisioned a brand new mountain bike as the best option.

Michael promised a trip to Porter Town next week. Surely they had bike shops. The tiny tourist-dependent region had a lot of outdoor sporting shops and local retailers. Kris was confident she could find a suitable thing with wheels.

The grand re-opening of White Rock loomed ever closer and with it, her nerves grew increasingly worn out. The local newspaper was telling stories of doom and gloom for the national park. Too much infrastructure had been damaged to rebuild in one season. Accommodations were scarce. The management was in turmoil. With Beth Taylor, the former administrator, fired and undergoing an investigation, and no real leadership in charge, chaos could keep visitors away. Kris hoped it was just incessant chatter. She believed visitors would return, if for nothing else, out of curiosity.

~ ~ ~

Uncomfortably warm from walking in bright midday sun, Kris shed her blue jacket and stuffed it in her backpack. Not quite sure who to talk to about a thinly promised job, she wandered around amidst the noise from tractors and chain saws. Huge pine trees that lined the edges of Willow Camp still stood but resembled black posts instead of actual trees.

Can I help you miss? A lanky male wearing a bright yellow hard hat and carrying a clip board in one hand and a radio in the other eyed Kris suspiciously.

Oh hi, Kris pivoted around and smiled. I was looking for Lauri Jacobson. I'm supposed to report to her about working in the food tent. Do you know who she is?

I'm Lauri, he snorted.

Oh. Sorry. Kris swore violently in her head.

What a great first impression.

I still don't know who you are, he said, impatiently waiting.

Uh, Kris Bay. I worked at the Willow dining hall for six years. Under Dale.

He's gone.

Oh. Gone? You meant he won't be back this season? Kris asked.

Nope. Died of a heart attack, the prickly man said quickly. Some workers nearby caught his attention and he slapped the clip board against his leg, yelling.

Died?!

Kris slowly turned away. Dale passed away. Her boss and mentor, gone. Kris swallowed hard but her throat instantly constricted. Her eyes burned with tears and she quickly blinked them away not wanting to show emotion in front of this callous prick.

You said you were looking for work? Lauri asked, interrupting the grave moment. Kris nodded but declined to face him.

We don't have any openings in food service, he said.

Kris nodded and took a step away. Maybe that was for the best. Working around a kitchen without Dale would never be the same again. This Lauri person possessed little empathy, or a personality for that matter. She had seen his type many times before, it was just par for the course in an industry such as this.

Kris watched large clouds of dirt and debris inundating the area from nearby tractors. She pulled her wool hat further down on her head. Slinking off toward the trail she heard her name being called.

Hey! Lauri was coming up fast, his face all red and twisted. You want a job or not? he gruffly asked, huffing and puffing.

I thought you said there were no jobs? Kris was having a hard time faking enthusiasm, especially since she was rather confused.

Can you paint? He grabbed the side of his waistband and gave a burly tug.

Kris frowned. What?

You heard me. Are you any good at painting and not making a mess?

Sure. Kris clamped her teeth shut in an effort to prevent something nasty from escaping.

We need about eighty signs painted. Trail signs, signs for parking lots. Tons of them.

Why can't they be - again she grit her teeth, -actually, yes, no problem. I can do it. Obviously all the old signs were destroyed by fire. A craft project such as this seemed a bit of a joke but hell, it was a task at last.

It's all I have right now. You've arrived kind of late and I've filled most of the positions, Lauri said, paying keen attention to her muddled reaction. He knew who damn well she was. Denying a job to the boss' wench would not be a smart move.

I understand that. But I have seniority. I've been working here for six years. I was promised good paying work when I got back.

Oh you'll be paid well. Do you want this or not?

Fine. Whatever. I'll do it.

Spectacular. Come back tomorrow. All the blank signs are being delivered and will need to be unloaded and sorted. Lauri scribbled something on his clipboard. He quickly strode off but Kris hovered a few minutes more. She wondered if Michael knew who this stupid excuse for a man was.

Well it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. Fitting in with everything was not going well.

As she started walking on a newly graded dirt path toward headquarters, Kris decided the sign painting would be a decent distraction. These signs would go all over the park. They would stand for many years to come, she assumed. Putting forth the effort for a little White Rock landmark was a nice thought.

Chapter 2

The Office

table of contents

Kris stared at a freshly painted green door. Brass lettering read:

Michael Falkenrath, Director of Operations

Administration Building

Kris made a fist and knocked. Her heart beat rapidly, partly out of pride, but also her heart usually went wild whenever she came into his presence. The fire between them still burned at high intensities, even with periods of uncertainty and stress.

This was a building she had frequented many times over the years yet it was a bit foreign to her now. A few moments passed before heavy footsteps sounded and the door opened swiftly.

Kris smiled brightly. My, my, this is quite a leg up in the world.

Comes at a surprise?

No. I meant, now that I'm here in person, it's more real. That you're running this park, Michael. Can you believe it?

He leaned his tall, muscular frame against the door. A hint of amusement took hold.

You don't have to knock from now on. Just try the door, if it's unlocked, come on in. Michael held the door open wide. Kris slipped past him dragging a finger across the front of his crisp uniform.

You did have it painted. Oh my gosh it looks so different. Kris spun around, taking in what was once Beth Taylor's outer office. The promiscuous administrator, now under indictment, had earned a reputation for frequent steamy late night gatherings. Perhaps even rituals of a dangerous sexualized nature. Kris didn't want to think about it but since Beth managed to get her nasty claws into Michael last summer, there was no denying the power that bitch held over people.

Boring white? Couldn't you at least have picked a beige or something?

Are you here to offer some interior decorating? Michael kissed the side of her mouth and then made his way to the back office. The front room was a sitting room. The old wood floors were heavily scuffed and cracking. An ancient green sofa was pushed against one wall with a few wooden benches under the windows.

Kris pleasantly enjoyed the changes to the back office as well. An antique cherry wood desk was at the center of the room. The counters were lined with radios all lined up on charging bays, folders over stuffed with papers and a framed picture of the meadow, taken by Kris.

Michael grabbed a fax slowly spitting out of a machine and then back leaned against the counter. Kris continued to wander about the room, satisfied there were no visible remaining traces of Beth.

Fuck, Michael said under his breath.

Bad news darling? Kris strode past and plopped down into the desk chair.

You could say that. He tore the paper in half and dropped it in waste basket. Running fingers through dark hair, Michael came around and stared at his girlfriend, sitting ever so provocatively at his desk.

You want to take over? he asked.

Oh I can't. Kris rubbed her forehead.

No? he asked.

I cannot take over your job. I need to preserve my strength and artistic abilities.

This job doesn't require any artistic skills.

Oh but mine does, Kris said.

Michael folded his arms and waited patiently for an explanation. Kris fought a few pangs of shame regarding her new appointment but it was actually her own fault. Had she arrived sooner, possibly months prior to now, she could of acquired a job a bit less menial.

"Sign Painter at your service. You need any signs over here,