“This has to have been the first shoot,” Scott said to the woman, Cappie as Brandon had called her. “The one that changed Hutchins’s life.” There were only a few boxes of photographs; some maps. A survey of the lake depths. After that first shelf, there didn’t seem to be any other Champy paraphernalia. Under Cappie’s direction, they’d sorted through some other items; a stack of vinyl records that could probably be sold off on eBay for a nice price. Old clothing. A box full of fragile and beautiful Christmas ornaments that would have been nicer if they hadn’t left a trail of glitter all over Scott’s fingers. The prize of the collection, a stained-glass fronted nickelodeon, circa the early 1900s, was probably worth quite a lot, even if it didn’t work.
“Monster hunter?” Cappie shook her head
