He was still tapping at his phone. ‘Hmm? Not yet. But there’s this boy in my class. Glen Troiano. There, done.’
He showed her his screen. He had put up the photos he’d taken of the junkyard, Penance’s Main Street and the homeless man, with his face blurred. The pictures were accompanied by a caption:
Come to the asshole of the world! Penance, ME. Where the dogs in the junkyard have higher IQs than the people. #Penance #shithole #vacationfromhell
She tried to hide her shock. She didn’t want Ryan to think she was a killjoy. This place was a shithole. A weird, creepy shithole. But that post was mean. She guessed Ryan really had been rattled by the encounter with the other teenagers.
And the homeless guy across the street was staring at them.
Frankie nudged Ryan and he followed her gaze.
‘Let’s get out of here before someone else accuses us of trespassing,’ he said.
Chapter 4
On the way back from the on-site shop, carrying a bag containing coffee, bread, milk and some snacks for Frankie, I paused briefly to peruse a map of Hollow Falls. It was a big place, with the lake forming a border at its southern edge and the general store and the restaurant at its centre. There were tennis courts, an archery field, a stables and a children’s playground. The cabins were grouped in clusters around the edges of the resort, with mine and Frankie’s in the north-west corner, before the resort gave way to the woods that separated Hollow Falls from Penance.
I wondered how many of the people staying here were dark tourists. The mindset was alien to me. Of course, I understood the human urge that makes people slow down at the scene of an accident, or that draws us to read news stories about murders and child abductions. But to choose your holiday destination based on such terrible things? Where do you fancy going this year? Disneyland? A Spanish beach? I know – how about that place where two teachers were ritually murdered? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought Frankie here. I would have chosen one of the many other resorts in New England.
As I neared our cabin, I spotted our other nearest neighbours on the deck of cabin fifteen, sitting at their outdoor table with coffee mugs in front of them. Two women in late middle age. One of them caught my eye as I passed so I went over to say hello and introduce myself.
They were both dressed as if they were going on a hike. The woman closest to me had curly brown hair with grey streaks and introduced herself as Tamara.
‘Donna,’ said the other one, a thickset woman with a slightly startled expression. She had auburn hair and looked a little older than Tamara. There was a walking pole leaning against her chair. Yes, definitely going on a hike.
We exchanged small talk for a minute, before I decided to bring up the topic that was lurking like an elephant in the woods.
‘So . . . are you guys here because of Everett Miller?’
‘Who?’
‘You haven’t heard of him? Jesus, I’m glad I’m not the only one.’
I’d noticed Donna wince while I spoke. It took me a beat to figure out why: the gold cross dangling from a chain around her neck. Her fingers kept straying to it, in the same way a tongue constantly returns to a sharp tooth.
‘Sorry,’ I said, feeling myself flush. ‘My language.’ This earned me a tight smile. Eager to leave the awkwardness behind, I pushed on, giving them a short version of what David and Connie had recounted the night before.
‘Oh, isn’t that just great,’ said Donna. ‘I came here to get away from all that.’
All that? Had there just been a spate of ritual murders where they came from? I was afraid to ask for clarification.
‘She’s been under a lot of stress lately,’ said Tamara, patting Donna’s shoulder. ‘We both have.’ She gave Donna an affectionate look. It made me wonder all the more what had happened to them. Had one of them been ill? I was also unsure if they were a couple or if they were just friends.
‘Perhaps we should find somewhere else to stay,’ Tamara offered. ‘I don’t want you fretting.’
Donna frowned and addressed me as if I were the expert. ‘It happened twenty years ago, you say?’
‘Almost exactly. It was a one-off.’ I wished I hadn’t mentioned any of it to them. ‘As far as I know, nothing has happened since. If I didn’t think this was a safe place, I wouldn’t stay here with my daughter.’
‘Twenty years,’ Donna said, touching her gold cross again. ‘I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.’
Tamara seemed relieved.