The Hollows(43)

‘What do you think I mean? We need to stop them harassing you.’

‘You want me to try to apologise to them again? After what they did to that rabbit?’

‘No, I’m not saying that. I’m going to talk to Greg. Tell him what’s going on.’

Frankie cringed.

‘It’s okay, Frankie. He’s not going to want any trouble between the town and the resort. I expect he’ll know who they are, know their parents.’

She nodded but looked miserable.

‘What about Ryan?’ I said. ‘Do you want to talk to him?’

She stared at the floor. ‘No.’

‘He should never have left you in the woods. I ought to go next door and give him a piece of my mind.’

‘No, Dad, please! You can’t do that.’

‘Why not? He was a jerk. Why did he tag you in that post? If he wanted to make himself a target, that’s fine. Whatever. But to get you involved. What the hell was he thinking? And then to let you go off on your own.’

‘He didn’t know.’ She winced, like she couldn’t believe she was defending him.

I calmed down. Ryan was only fifteen, after all. A child. I was so happy we hadn’t had social media when I was that age to show the world proof of my immaturity and stupidity. It had taken years for me to gain the wisdom to realise I didn’t know everything.

‘Can I go to my room?’ Frankie asked. ‘I’m so tired.’ She hesitated. ‘Will you go and look for my phone?’

‘Of course. But first I’m going to talk to Greg. I’ll come back and check on you in a bit.’

‘Okay.’

She shuffled off to her bedroom and did what teenagers do. She went back to sleep.



Greg was at the front desk. He looked stressed, a pile of paperwork in front of him. I guessed the death of a guest, even by natural means, must cause all sorts of headaches for the manager of a place like this. Well, his headache was about to get worse.

‘Mr Anderson,’ he said with a smile. He didn’t just look stressed. He had dark circles around his eyes, as if he hadn’t got much sleep. As usual, he was sweating too, though with the A/C turned up high it was chilly in the office.

‘Can I have a word with you?’

‘Is this about Miss Capello?’

I assumed that was Donna.

‘No.’ I told him as much as he needed to know, from Ryan’s unfortunate Instagram post to the messages Frankie had received. I told him about the rabbit but left out the part about the cat, as I still wasn’t convinced that was true. Greg got increasingly sweaty as I spoke. By the end he was dabbing his brow with a handkerchief.

‘Who are these local teenagers?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know their surname but their first names are Buddy and Darlene.’

He stared at me. ‘Ah.’

‘You know them?’

‘I do.’

His voice had gone flat. I guessed Buddy and Darlene already had a reputation.

‘I don’t really want to get the police involved in this,’ I said. ‘Frankie and Ryan obviously provoked them and I don’t want Frankie to have to be interviewed by the police.’

‘I can understand that,’ he said.

‘So far it’s just been a load of horrible messages and a dead rabbit. I’m sure it’s just teenage drama. In my day we would shout at each other or send notes, and none of it ever came to anything. Now they all have phones it’s a thousand times easier to make threats, and probably even less likely to end in actual violence. But I will get the police involved if the threats don’t stop. And I’m sure nobody wants that.’

‘Of course. I’ll deal with it. You have my word.’

‘Good.’

The conversation was over. I went back to my cabin and looked in on Frankie. She was still asleep and I didn’t want to disturb her. I left her a note, telling her not to leave the cabin, which I was sure she wouldn’t do anyway.

I was going to try to find her phone.



The problem was, I didn’t really know where to look. A clearing, somewhere close to town. That was as much detail as Frankie had been able to give. That and the wind chimes.

As I got closer to Penance, I listened out for them but all I could hear was the incessant chatter of unseen birds. The faintest hum of traffic in the distance. I scoured the ground at my feet and, managing to get a slight signal, tried phoning Frankie’s number several times, but the phone had been on low battery when she lost it and it went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t use Find My iPhone either because the phone was dead.

I wanted to find it. It would be expensive to replace, and I could imagine how Sarah would react when she heard Frankie had lost it. I really didn’t want Sarah to know about any of the creepy stuff that had happened this week. I also wanted to see the messages Frankie had received on Instagram. But this was hopeless.

There was someone who could help, though. Nikki. She might not know exactly where Frankie had dropped it, but it seemed likely she could identify the correct clearing.

Except, when I got into town, the bookstore was shut.

I peered through the front window. All the lights were off. I thought I saw a movement inside then realised it was the cat, Cujo. At least he was safely home.