The Hollows(72)

‘No. That’s not till next week.’

Of course. He and Connie had already told me that.

‘Then what—’

But David wasn’t listening. He started the car.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m going to find him.’

‘But the instructions. The note says more will be coming today.’

‘You said it yourself, they could already be dead and these notes are designed to make us sit here on our asses, doing nothing. Well, I’m not doing that when he could be killing Ryan and Frankie right now.’

The car was moving, accelerating through the resort. We were adjacent to the lake. A woman jogging along the path had to jump out of our way, her shock turning to fury in the rear-view mirror.

‘Where are we going to go?’ I asked as we sped out through the gates of the resort, leaving the WELCOME TO HOLLOW FALLS sign behind. In a way it felt good, a relief, to go along with someone else’s plan.

‘Do you know where he lives?’ David asked.

‘No.’

‘It shouldn’t be a problem. Everybody knows everybody around here, right? Tell me exactly what Frankie told you again, about when she went to find Buddy and Darlene. Did she describe where they went?’

I thought back, forcing myself to concentrate, to peer through the swirling chaos in my head. ‘She said they paused to take photos of the junkyard, then walked to Main Street. They met Buddy and Darlene somewhere in between.’

I gave him directions and he turned left towards Penance. The sky was overcast, the morning sticky and unpleasant, like we needed a storm to clear the air. I checked the time. Almost ten.

The road cut through the trees. We passed a dead creature, its fur matted with blood. I wasn’t sure what it was. A beaver? There was more roadkill up ahead. I tried not to see it as an omen, but it was all getting to me. These woods, the image of Frankie tied up in some dark room somewhere, terrified.

‘This way,’ I said.

We drove past Main Street and I considered asking David to stop briefly, so we could check if Nikki had gone back to the bookstore or her apartment. Get Greg’s address out of her. But I decided it was unlikely. We would just be wasting time. I looked out for Wyatt too, but he wasn’t at his usual spot beneath the statue.

We cruised along the road that ran parallel to the woods. The junkyard was ahead.

‘This must be it,’ I said, pointing to the right turn on to Paradise Loop.

David turned and we drove slowly, looking for someone to ask. Then I spotted them. Two small children, around six years old, playing out on their front lawn. They had to be the kids who had told Frankie and Ryan about the rabbit and the buried-alive cat.

‘Stop the car,’ I said.

I got out and went over to talk to the children. They were playing Jenga, concentrating hard as the boy tried to pull out a block from near the bottom of the tower. His sister clapped her hands with glee as it wobbled and almost fell.

‘Hi,’ I said. Two large pairs of eyes turned towards me. David stood on the edge of the lawn, watching.

‘I’m looking for a friend of mine,’ I went on, keeping my voice light and friendly. ‘Buddy and Darlene’s dad. Can you tell me which house is theirs?’

The girl pointed to the house next door. An unassuming, detached house surrounded by a white picket fence. The Stars and Stripes flew at the top of a flagpole out front, and there was a basketball hoop attached to the wall.

‘Have you seen them today?’ David asked.

‘Uh-uh.’ The girl shook her head.

‘What about last night?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said the boy, though he didn’t seem too sure.

I glanced at the house. There was no sign of life. I assumed Greg hadn’t turned up to work today. I imagined he must have called in sick, maybe blaming it on a bad burger from last night’s barbecue.

‘Okay, thanks,’ I said to the children.

We approached the house, going through the front gate. It was well oiled, no squeak. The sky was looking increasingly overcast but the birds were singing, fluttering between the treetops. A normal summer’s day in small-town America.

The birds weren’t the only things fluttering. My stomach was like a butterfly house. Now we were here, I wasn’t sure what to do.

‘What are we going to do?’ I asked. ‘Knock?’

David looked as tense as I felt. There was a small car, a red Hyundai, parked outside, presumably Greg’s.

‘I’m going to go round the back and take a look first,’ David said.

I followed him down the side of the house, through another well-oiled gate into a neat garden. I peered through a rear window into the kitchen. It looked totally normal, a few dishes piled in the sink, a loaf of bread on the counter. There was something else on the counter too. Leaning closer I realised it was candy, sweets in shiny wrappers, as if someone had torn open a bag and let it scatter.

‘This doesn’t feel right,’ I said. ‘I don’t think they’re here.’

But David ignored me. He tried the back door.

It opened.

‘Wait,’ I whispered, but he went inside and I followed.

It was silent inside the house. I could hear my own breathing.

David took a knife from the block on the counter, examined it, then took a sharper one. I noticed that the largest slot in the block was empty.