Was he guilty? He certainly seemed to be. I had no hope of finding out where he was now, so that wasn’t going to be the thrust of my article, but I wanted to be able to paint a portrait of him. Nikki had said that everyone around here had known him. Hopefully I would be able to find someone who wasn’t as averse to talking to a journalist as she was.
My focus returned to the object on the grass in front of David and Connie’s cabin. Was it an animal?
Taking my freshly brewed coffee with me, I went out to take a look, still wearing the white towelling robe that had been provided by the resort. I walked barefoot across the lawn and down the path towards the Butlers’ cabin.
It was an animal. From a distance I thought it was a cat, but as I got closer I realised it was a rabbit, a huge one, with white fur that was stained with blood across its belly. Flies were crawling over its face and had settled upon its staring eyes. Its throat was torn or cut open, and more flies had gathered there.
I was glad Frankie was still asleep. If she saw this, she would freak out, particularly since the rabbit looked just like Swifty, Frankie’s pet rabbit, who was back at home, being looked after by her mum. Frankie was besotted with her pet, and her Instagram feed was full of pictures of him. Swifty even had his own Instagram account, which was considerably more popular than mine.
I glanced at our cabin, worried that Frankie might emerge and see this grisly sight. At that moment, David emerged from his cabin. It was still only seven and he was dressed in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, his hair sticking up almost vertically.
‘Tom? What’s going on?’
I pointed to the dead rabbit.
‘Whoa. That’s a big bunny.’
He slowly came down the steps and across the grass, staring at the animal. Then Connie appeared in the doorway, in a robe that matched mine, propping herself up with her stick. Behind her, peering out with eyes like dinner plates, was Ryan.
‘I’ll run up to reception,’ I said. ‘Get someone to come and . . . deal with it.’
David wasn’t listening. ‘What do you think did it? A cat? A fox?’ He stooped and bent closer to the rabbit, examining its throat. ‘That cut looks pretty clean to me.’
I stared at him. ‘What, you think a person did this? With a knife?’
He chuckled and got to his feet. ‘Nah, I’m messing with you. Must have been a fox. Or one of those massive cats they have around here. A Maine Coon.’
I thought about Nikki’s cat, Cujo.
‘We don’t need to bother reception,’ David went on. ‘We can deal with it ourselves.’
He went back into his cabin and came out with a black rubbish sack and a pair of gloves, which he slipped on. He picked the rabbit up by its hind legs – ‘Jeez, he’s a heavy bastard’ – and dropped it into the bag. Then he put it in the trash can.
‘There. Done.’
‘Listen,’ I said, addressing Ryan as much as his parents. ‘It’s important not to say anything to Frankie about this. She has a pet rabbit and she’ll be upset.’
‘Of course,’ said Connie.
‘Swifty,’ said Ryan. ‘She told me about him.’
Connie sat down at the table on their deck. ‘You know, I think I heard it happen. I woke up around three, needing the bathroom, and when I got back into bed I heard something out here. I figured it was raccoons or something and went straight back to sleep.’
‘I bet it was a fox,’ David said. ‘I can’t freaking stand foxes. We had chickens when I was growing up. Hey, Tom, do you want a refill?’ He nodded at my coffee cup.
‘I’m good. Thanks.’
As I walked away I clocked the expression on Ryan’s face. He was staring at the place where the rabbit had been, deep in thought. Perhaps thinking about what his dad had said about a clean cut. Then he noticed me looking, shrugged and turned away.
Heading back, I spotted Tamara on the deck of the cabin on the opposite side of ours, straining to see what was going on.
I went over.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked.
I explained about the rabbit.
‘Nature, red in tooth and claw,’ she said. ‘Though it’s kinda weird.’
‘What is?’
‘Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just I’m a pretty light sleeper, especially since . . .’ She left the sentence dangling tantalisingly. ‘I thought I heard someone out here in the middle of the night. Two people, maybe. Whispering.’
I must have looked alarmed because she said, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably my imagination. In fact, I bet I know what sparked it. Yesterday I got chatting to this elderly couple down by the front desk. They were planning to ask if they could change their cabin. Want to guess why?’