Locked away in attics, basements, and dark corners across the world are stories of beings and beasts that hide in the night.
These are those stories.
This is the Sleepless in Suburbia Podcast
I’m Brooke, case manager for our team, and this is the audio recap for Case 122: The Mt. Castle Campground.
“I missed your stupid face,” I blurted out as Lark took the seat next to me in the gazebo.
Remember me mentioning a few weeks ago that “awkward” is one of my superpowers.
Lark laughed, wrapping her arms around me for a hug, “Awe auntie, it was only three weeks.”
Three weeks too long. The entire Sleepless in Suburbia Society was finally back together, and we were celebrating with an afternoon outdoors at our favorite local winery with a little wine, a lot of snacks, and of course…. Spooky Stuff.
“Welcome home,” Claire smiled, two swirled wine slushies in hand. “This one over here has been counting down the days since before you left.”
“Guilty,” I laughed.
Next to me, Lo scrolled our social media inboxes, occasionally stopping to grab a handful of Twizzlers, then back to scrolling. Across from her, Ford and Pru were in a heated debate over which movie in the Scream franchise was the best. Was there even a question, the original Scream was by far superb. If you want to convince me otherwise, you can find us on Facebook and Instagram we’re at SleeplessSuburbiaPod.
“B, you weren’t actually serious about the no camping thing, right?” Lo’s voice pulled my attention from Ford’s argument for the killer’s twist in Scream 2, making it the best of the Scream franchise.
Wrong, Ford’s opinion was wrong. “Sorry, Lo, I was too caught up in Ford’s wrongness, what was that?”
“Camping, did you really mean you’d never go camping?” Lo repeated, tapping the iPad screen.
I took a long drink of my strawberry mango wine slush, nodding, “I meant it with the passion of 1000 suns.”
I tried the camping thing one summer as a camp counselor for a girl scout camp. It was the camp type where counselors had nicknames, meet counselor Gonzo, and did outdoor things like hiking and making pizza pockets in aluminum using a campfire. I was in charge of teaching the campers how to use a compass, me the girl who’d never used a compass once. On my first day, I ended up lost with five terrified brownies. It took the rangers nearly 6 hours to find us in the woods. I wasn’t allowed out of camp after that, and thus my aversion to camping was born.
I shivered at the memory of the five sobbing little faces. “No actual way in heck, Lo.”
“What if I told you it was haunted?” Lor asked.
I shook my head.
“What if it was haunted by a murder victim?”
I considered that for a second, “Pass.”
“What if the campground was haunted by a version of the headless horsemen?”
Checkmate. She had me, and judging by her raised eyebrow, she knew it.
“Headless horsemen?” Lark asked.
“Listen to this,” Pru lifted the iPad and began reading.
I hope this email finds you all well. Enough of the pleasantries, let me get straight to the point, the headless horseman is driving away business. I own a tiny little campground in the foothills of the Rookies. A ghost has taken up residence here, and it’s scaring off a good portion of my customers. With the economy’s current state and people afraid to travel, my business is already taking a big hit. If this keeps up, we’ll be closed by the end of the year.
Mt. Castle Campground
It looked like Gonzo was brushing off her old camping gear.
Mt. Castle Campground is a primitive camping experience; think, bring your own tent, cooler, and sleeping bag. There are two log cabin buildings on site.
The Castle General Store where you check-in and out and purchase things like bug spray, fishing bait, light beer, and Mt Castle Campground bumper stickers.
The second building is called the Water Cabin; inside, you’ll find men’s and women’s bathrooms equipped with toilet and shower stalls.
There are 10 campsite locations, a lake where visitors can swim, paddleboard, and fish, and a fire circle, including a giant fire pit and grills for the guest to use.
Hiking trails wound through the woods surrounding the campground, and the website boasted some of the best bird watching in the area.
It sounded rustic, immersed in nature, and my worst nightmare revisited.
Last week’s episode with Pru’s Waving Night Giggler was intense; if you haven’t listened to that episode yet, you’ll want to hit pause right about now and hop back to Case 121. Once you’ve listened to Case 121, we’ll be hanging out here waiting for you. So far, things are peaceful and quiet in Pru’s world. She’s super happy to report that she has nothing to report or nothing terrible that is. In non haunted in the night news, there is a bouncing bundle of joy new addition to Pru’s family. Kickstart, a Jack Russell Terrier mix they rescued from the humane society. The humans are in love, and Knox is learning how to be the big brother to a very bratty little sister.
Lark is back from her family visit and adventure in the Puget Sound region, and we’re excited to report, she did some investigating on her own. We’re still ironing out the details, but it looks like, between classes, she’ll be recording some exclusive mini-episodes of her spooky adventures. We’ll keep you posted on social and upcoming episodes on the specifics of how to listen to her episodes.
Ford’s started Crystals and Stone 101 at a shop in our area. I’d love to take the class with her, the curriculum looks incredible, but it’s on the same evening as Jame’s hockey practice. So hopefully, Ford takes lots of notes. She will learn how to cleanse, clear, awaken, program, and work with various crystals and stones. She’ll fish the five-week course with a basic understanding of using stones and crystals for energy cleansing, programming, protection, healing, and knowledge.
Lo and Claire paired up again to dig up ever more on the Tenebres. Tenebres are a bit high maintenance. It boils down to this; when they like you, they want you to show them attention. So by Pru taking the “I don’t see you” stance against the being, supernatural feelings were hurt. That’s when it decided to demand her attention, and if she wouldn’t give it, it’d try other people in the house. It’s likely the physical and emotional attacks would have continued to escalate until the being got bored.
What is a Tenebres? It’s not a demon or a ghost. It sort of gives me a Dementor from Harry Potter vibe. It can present as a humanoid figure, but it’s not, nor was it ever human. Some ancient artifacts dating back to the Aztecs reference a similar creature being made up of dark matter that lingered and evolved from the creation of the universe. Some believe that asteroids colliding with earth contain dark matter from the depths of other galaxies. That dark matter, once here, can evolve into a Tenebres. I’ll make sure to bring you more of their research as they share it with me.
I’ve been forced to take some of my own advice when it doubt sage it out and ask for some freaking help. I don’t know that I want or need to sage anything out, but I’m absolutely in over my head. The other night I woke up in the middle of the night, I sleep with a single airpod while listening to either a sleep story or old episodes of Gossip Girl or Hart of Dixie (I know, don’t judge), so I grabbed my phone to start a new episode. Squinting at the brightness, I noted it was 2:47 am (still plenty of time to sleep), and then the light from the phone caught something beside my bed.
Shifting the phone away from me, the light illuminated a woman standing maybe a foot away from me. She wore jeans, a pink cable knit sweater, and her hair was up in a high ponytail. A light haze engulfed her entire body. She looked over the bed, into the distance of our bathroom, seemingly deep in thought. I had the impression she didn’t notice I was there.
Yes, I know how this sounds. I rubbed my eyes; she was still there. I pulled a play from kid Brooke’s playbook; I hid under the blankets for a few breaths; she was still there when I came out. I turned on my phone’s flashlight; the brighter light made her slightly translucent, but still very much there. Now 2:51 am, I reached towards her hand, expecting to grasp onto a stranger who’d broken into our house. But as I neared her hand, I encountered an icy patch of air, and she faded away.
You’re asking, “Why didn’t you wake up Asher if you saw a strange blonde standing by your bed.” Fair question and I don’t know. I reached out to a dear friend Trish who’s a physic medium, desperate to know what’s happening. Her first words to me, “Why didn’t you ask her what she needed?” Hadn’t thought of that. I’ll share more on this next week.
We have Case 122 to get in to.
Historical Society Research
Pru and Lark dropped us as the gate of Mt. Castle Camp and headed to the Pike Historical Society and Archives building. Here’s what they found.
It was September 21st, 1981, in the foothills, where Mt Castle Camp now sits. 29-year-old Kevin Brittney and his 26-year-old girlfriend Laura Dalton, along with their two horses, traveled the trails, training for an upcoming endurance horseback riding race. It was getting late, so the couple decided to camp for the night and head back in the morning.
By 7 pm, on September 22nd, the Brittney and the Dalton family hadn’t heard from Kevin or Laura. Kevin’s father, Mitchell, drove to the scenic view parking spot, used by hikers and riders, to quickly access various trailheads. There he found Kevin’s green 1974 Chevy pickup and two-horse trailer. The truck was locked, and no one was in sight.
September 23rd, Laura’s horse Dusty Dawn, was found grazing in a field, 4 miles north of the scenic view parking lot. Droplets of blood and a partial bloody handprint were found on the gelding, but the animal was not injured.
On September 24th, two days after Kevin and Laura were reported missing, hikers came across a grizzly scene. Trigger warning, the details here may not be suitable for all listeners. Hit the 30 jump forward button now if you’d like to skip the gruesome scene.
Two horse leads were tied around a tree next to a green two-person scout tent. 26-year-old Laura Dalton was found outside of the tent, near what remained of a small fire. She’d been hit at least ten times with a sharp object, believed to be an ax. Her skull was fractured in several locations, and a large rock next to the body was covered in blood. 29-year-old Kevin Brittney was found inside the tent. He’d been hit dozens of times with the ax, causing considerable blood splatter throughout the inside of the tent. Kevin’s head was missing.
Later forensics determined that the blood found on the gelding belonged to Laura Dalton.
A reward was offered for any leads leading to an arrest. Nearly 40 years later, the Dalton Brittney Homicides are still unsolved.
Onsite Interview Recap
Meanwhile, at the Mt. Castle Campground, I was having Camp Sunny Smiles flashbacks.
“Take a breath, you look like you’re about to cry,” Lo whispered in my ear, as Mike approached us in the campgrounds gravel parking lot.
“I am,” I hissed.
“Mike? I’m Ford, so nice to meet you,” she said, stepping forward with a wave. “This view is incredible.”
Mike was a tall man, full Paul Bunyan black beard, with matching Paul Bunyan inspired red flannel shirt…sleeves pushed up, with tattoos peeking out below the fabric. Black square glasses perched on his nose and a backward gray Canucks baseball hat covered part of shaggy jet black hair. Tall, dark, and tattooed…. Ford’s dream guy in flannel.
We sat on thick blankets, draped over large fallen trees, around the fire circle. In hand, long metal forks, skewering a hotdog, for everyone except Lo and I. We munched happily on freshly cut watermelon and cantaloupe.
“It felt like I’d been hit by a paranormal mack truck,” Mike said when we’d broken the ice enough to get past pleasantries and comments on how peaceful the area was.
“How so,” Ford asked, fluttering her eyelashes like frantic butterflies in two very brief syllables.
He shivered, “Woodpeckers, deer, some pretty good-sized bass, and the occasional snake used to be all you’d find here. Then BAM,” he smacked his hands together. “Something is terrorizing guests at night, running upon them, kicking fiery embers at them, opening their tents. I’d think it was some punk kid from town, but…. I saw him, it, whatever you call it.”
“I’m sorry, did you say snakes,” Ford’s eyes darted around the surrounding ground searching for an imminent attack.
“Ford,” I groaned.
“He also said the alleged entity is kicking fireballs at people; snakes are more afraid of you then you are of them,” Lo said.
“Doubt it,” Ford mumbled through a bite of potato chips.
I looked back at Mike. “What do you call the entity?”
“The headless horseman.” Mike began.
After midnight, Mike was in the General Story, working on inventory for an upcoming busy stretch. He had just started restocking fish bait, when someone started pounding at the door, screaming for help so loud he heard them easily over the 90s rock he had pumping in the store. Opening the door, he found the husband and wife staying on Campsite 5. They were frantic. As they pushed past him into the General Store, the wife was crying, and the husband looked ill he was so pale.
The pair were asleep in their tent when something hit the tent’s side, the sound woke the wife up, but she explained it away as a bug colliding with the tent’s side. Before she was able to drift back off to sleep, she heard snorting from an animal. She sat up in her sleeping bag, listening closer when something else hit the tent, then another. The entire tent shook violently, the wife screamed, and the husband woke up. Just outside of the thin nylon walls, something raced in circles around them; they could hear the steady therump therump of animal feet cantering outside.
As quickly as the commotion started, it was quiet; the husband crawled toward the tent’s opening to peek into the night, but as he reached towards the zipper, the outline of a hand pressed towards him from the outside of the tent. The tent began to shake violently again before everything fell utterly still, including the symphony of insects outside.
The couple bolted from the tent towards the General Store for help; the night was eerily silent. Mike grabbed a flashlight and took an ATV to the campsite alone, the couple refusing to go back in the dark. Ping pong ball-sized rocks littered the tent’s perimeter and stamped into the earth he found two impressions that looked like hooves. Mike broke down the couple’s camp, bringing them their items, offering to set them up at a different site. They declined the offer, leaving before dawn.
“Do you get many people on horseback riding through the campground?” Claire asked.
Mike shook his head. “Not really. Occasionally we have guests who stay with their horses to ride on the trails, but we don’t have riders approaching the camp on a whim.”
Within a week of the first experience, several guests reported unexplainable things happening to them. Walking to the Water Cabin in the middle of the night, a camper heard stomping. Scanning the area with his flashlight movement caught his attention near the woods. For a brief moment, the light beam landed on a spotted horse standing beside a man who only appeared from the shoulders down. As quickly as the duo appeared, they were gone.
On another occasion, several campers gathered around a large bonfire, Mike played songs on his acoustic guitar, and some of the guests sang. Shortly after midnight, a teenage boy, there with his parents, pointed towards the lake. Backlit by the moon was the figure of a man, a man who was missing his head.
On different nights, several campers expressed concern to Mike about shadows moving just outside of the fire circle’s light. Sometimes that shadow was accompanied by snorting, stomping, and thrown rocks.
“My social media manager also had an experience with the headless horseman,” Mike said.
“Would it be possible to speak to them?” Pru asked.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling, “Let me call her.” A couple of seconds past and then. “Mia, hey, it’s Mike. I have the investigators here, mmhmm, yeah. Can I put you on speaker? Great.”
Mike tapped his screen and extended his arm, “Hi ladies.” A woman’s voice came from the speakers.
“Hi Mia, how are you?” I asked.
“I’m good, thank you. So you want me to tell you about the man in the woods? The one without the head?”
“That would be great, if you’re up for it,” Claire said, shifting forward on her tree seat.
The phone was quiet for a second then, “Sure, no problem. We wanted some pictures of the lake with the moon rising over it. Social goes nuts for moon over water pics. I’d been walking around in the dark for maybe 30 min when I heard something. I pulled my AirPods out of my ear, listening for the sounds again. I didn’t hear anything but left my AirPods out. Through my camera lens, a figure took form right in front of me: two legs, a body, two arms, no head. The figure wasn’t there, then manifested and charged me. I started back peddling, and as the figure came on me, it vanished.”
“That sounds scary. Did you notice anything else about the headless figure?” Ford asked.
“I was scared, yes, but the strongest emotion I felt at that moment was sadness,” Mia trailed off. I thought she’d hung up when she continued, “The despair lasted for a while after the figure vanished. Even when I got home and was sifting through pictures on my computer, I still felt it.”
Claire chewed on her thumbs, cuticle, “Were you feeling bummed before the figure encounter?”
“No, not at all. I think the emotions were his.”
We thanked Mia for her time, and Mike stuffed his phone back in his jeans pocket. “Let me give you a quick tour,” he said, standing.
We worked our way through the campground, Ford’s head on a constant swivel for attack snakes, learning about other haunted happenings. A woman taking a shower in the Water Cabin saw boots facing her underneath the shower curtain, she screamed, and the boots vanished. A little boy camping with his family said his favorite part was the spotted pony that followed him around; there were no known horses on the property at the time. Three students were camping to study for finals, sitting in lawn chairs outside of their tents, they watched a man without a head crawling on hands and knees in a field.
“Just past those trees,” Mike pointed towards the west side of the lake. “Next to a huge boulder is where a guest’s dog dug up a skull.”
“Animal skull?” Lo asked.
“Nope, human, the police came out and worked it like a crime scene,” he replied.
“That’s a pretty important piece of intel,” I said. “When did the skull get unearthed?”
“Midsummer,” he said.
I nodded, “Before or after that couple had stones thrown at their tent?”
There it was. A hint at what we could be dealing with.
We’d just made it back to the gravel parking lot when we heard the crunch of tires working their way down the drive towards us. Claire waved as Pru’s gray car came into view. Mike excused himself to make some calls back at the General Store, and the team waited to hear what history Pru and Lark dug up at the archives.
The two got out of the car, Pru scrolling a tablet and Lark flipping back and forth through a notebook, they’d found a lot about bloody murders from the 1980s.
“And they never found the head,” Lark wrinkled her nose, causing her sunglasses to bob up and down.
“Wrong,” Lo said when the research pair wrapped up their findings.
“Seriously, I cross-referenced the police report and several articles in the Herald Newspaper. Kevin’s head wasn’t found.”
“A dog dug up a skull just inside the tree line by the lake,” Claire said.
Ford continued, “Just before the spooky shenanigans started.”
“Where’s the skull now?”
That was the million-dollar haunted question.
Here are other haunted happenings taking place at The Mt. Castle Campground.
- People gathering around the campfire at night witness shadows circling around them.
- A reddish-orange orb weaves its way through the trees around the campground.
- The sound of galloping horse hooves has woken people up.
- Several people have heard clapping around them while moving through the campground at night.
- Horse’s are heard neighing when there aren’t any horses insight or housed near the property.
- Feeling of being watched.
- A guest sat outside their tent, reading a book by flashlight; they glanced up and saw someone step from the woods. They felt like the person was watching them. They went back into the tent to grab their phone to call Mike, but the person was gone when they came out.
- On four different occasions, guests saw a horse wandering through the trees.
- As people walk along the paths, they hear footsteps crunching on the gravel behind them; when they turn around, no one is there.
- Fresh flashlight batteries drain quickly.
“You can’t wander off and leave me,” I said, digging in a research pack. “We’re sure sure that there’s extra off all batteries in the Battery Packs?”
“No wandering off leaving you lost in the wilderness, scouts honor,” Lark laughed, holding up three fingers.
“And have I ever sent you out with dead batteries?” Lo added. I shook my head. “Then, have a little faith that the same is likely to happen in this investigation.”
Lo grabbed the research pack from me and continued working her way through the pre-investigation checklist.
This investigations research packs included:
- Digital Voice Recorder
- Digital Camera
- Full Spectrum Video Camera
- Complete First aid kit
- 2 – Flashlights
- Avon skin so soft bug guard
- Walkie Talkie
- Battery Kit – with hopefully all the working batteries
- LifeGuard Whistle
- Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chips compliments of the General Store
- A compass – because Lo apparently had jokes.
Lo set up HQ in the General Store with a camera set up in the Water Cabin and the Fire Circle.
Claire, Ford, and Pru would investigate:
- The Water Cabin
- Fire Circles
- Campsites 1-4
Lark and I would explore, hopefully without getting lost in the woods:
- Campsites 5-10
- The treeline near the lake
- The lake
These are our experiences.
As the sun dipped below the trees, we headed to our investigation zones; we’ll start with Claire, Ford, and Pru.
The forest around the campground came to life; crickets, frogs, and various other creepy-crawly insects erupted in song around us in a late summer symphony. Claire’s team kicked off their investigation in the Water Cabin, where the woman had a boot-wearing entity stand just outside of her shower.
Bare bulbs flickered on with a buzz as the team entered the Water Cabin, their shoes squeaked along the tan tile. They stood together inside Shower Bay t3, Pru with a digital recorder in hand.
Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?
What is your name?
How old are you?
How are you feeling?
Listening back through the audio, nothing came through.
“Wait a second,” Pru said, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Right here, we’re trying to get verbal responses from the presumed spirit of a man without a head.”
“Okay, so we scrap EVP work altogether?” Ford asked.
Pru shook her head, “I don’t think so, we just…. change up the way he responds.”
Do you want to chat? Clap once for yes or twice for no.
Is anyone here? Clap once for yes or twice for no.
Is your name Kevin Brittney?
A single clap broke through the silence echoing off the walls.
“Hi Kevin, thank you for your response, do you want to chat with us?” Ford asked.
Claire nodded, “Okay, no problem. We’ll be around most of the night, and we have some friends in the camp, too, if you want to reach out to them.”
The trio moved their focus to the Fire Circle, where Mike had started a roaring fire before leaving the property. Ford placed a few logs on the fire, and they settled in listening with the digital recorder running. Claire wandered, snapping pictures. Claire’s photos held no evidence, but the digital recorder sitting by Ford caught this.
Please Listen to Show for EVP.
Did you hear a horse? We didn’t hear it in person, only while listening back.
On the opposite side of the property, Lark and I neared the treeline where the dog unearthed the human skull earlier in the summer. About 10 feet from the edge of the woods, something bounced passed Lark’s feet. A couple of steps further, I folded forward, rubbing my shin; something had hit me. Standing back upright, an object collided with my stomach.
“You okay?” Lark asked, shining the flashlight towards my feet.
Two large pebbles, about the size of small limes, laid just in front of my shoes. A large knot swelled up on my shin, visible through my black leggings.
“It feels like I have a golf ball on my shin,” I touched the lump gingerly as another rock skittered to a stop by my feet. “Oh, come on.”
Against my better judgment, and the logic screaming at me to go the opposite way from the rock assault, we continued into the woods. Rocks flying past us every few steps. Turning around, my heart caught in my throat for a brief moment. I could no longer see the campground; I saw nothing but shadows and trees from all sides. A pounding began in my ears, so loudly, I swore the other team could hear it on the other side of the campground. We were going to get lost.
To chill out my runaway imagination, I began tapping my right hand’s fingers against my thumb. Pinky Finger. Ring Finger. Middle Finger. Pointer Finger. Then. Point. Middler. Ring. Pinky. Back and forth while also trying to remember to breathe.
Something squeezed my elbow, forcing a squeak out of my throat. “We’re safe.” Lark said, flashlight pointing upward towards her chin to illuminate her face. Only it didn’t light up her face; it caused sunken hollow for eyes and streaks of shadows here and there.
“Is this the start of a scary story?” I said.
Lark’s shadowed eyebrow arched, “Oh sorry,” she said, pointing the beam of light back to the ground.
Something moved in the tree’s around us, moving quickly, avoiding our flashlight beams. Lark caught the sound on her digital recorder. I’ll play it for you now.
Please Listen to Show for EVP.
The movement sound grew louder and faster, circling us, weaving through the trees.
“I told you we should have stayed out of the woods,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
“It’s our job to go into the woods.” Lark’s voice was barely audible over the pounding hooves.
A loud bang, like something hitting a tree, snapped our attention to the right. Shoulder to shoulder, we showed our flashlights in the direction of the sounds. Nothing. Trees. Tallgrass. Pine cones. Insects. Boulder. A man. I shook my head like an Etch A Sketch, trying to clear away the image developing in front of us.
Through the trees, 25 or 30 feet away, was a man. He was hazy like we were looking at him through a sheet of fog, but we could still make out details about him. He wore tattered jeans, an orangish patchwork jacket with an enormous rip down the left side, and black boots. His most distinguishable feature, no head.
“Lark,” I breathed. “Camera.”
The headless figure wasn’t alone; next to him stood a white horse with black or dark brown spots. Reins extended from a bridle around the horse’s head and into the hands of the man. The horse stomped his front hoof anxiously; beside me, Lark fussed with the camera. Flipping the power switch back and forth. The horse stomped its foot again, pawing at the forest floor.
“It won’t turn on, the battery is dead or something.”
“Why are you here?” I called out to the man. “If there anything we can help you with?”
The man stroked the horse’s neck, and it neighed.
“Okay I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.
Larked zipped the research pack on my back, “Kevin, right?”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “How can we help.”
The horses shifted nervously.
“We want to help you. I don’t think you want to be scaring the campers here.” Lark said, holding a digital recorder. “What do you need?”
Slowly the figure pointed a gloved hand to his vacant shoulders.
I looked at Lark and back at the ghostly duo; they were gone.
“Oh my gosh,” Lark said, turning in circles looking into the woods.
“That poor man,” my energy was drained, I felt heavy. “Let’s head back.”
“The police department assures us that the skull will be buried with the rest of Kevin’s remains at the family’s request,” Pru said, playing with a ladybug that landed on her chair’s arm.
“Okay,” Mike nodded, handing Ford a glass of tea. “So that’s it, once the skull is buried, no more headless horseman ghost scary away campers?”
That’s exactly what we thought. Our working theory was that when the dog dug up Kevin’s skull, it triggered his likely restless spirit into action. When a person is taken in such a violent way, it leaves behind, well, unfinished business. Especially when a piece of that spirits human vessel is separate from the rest of the remains. We’re fairly confident that once the skull burial is complete, The Mt. Castle Campground will no longer have this spirit activity level.
We recently heard from Mike, and the only thing hanging around at night on the campground are mosquitos and raccoons. We are happy that it sounds like Kevin is resting more peacefully; we are comfortable closing case 121: The Mt. Castle Campground.
We will be back next week with another case; until then, thanks again for listening to Sleepless in Suburbia. If you enjoy our cases, please make sure to rate and review us on Apple Podcast and subscribe to get our new case each week.