Watch yr back we’re coming for you.
Run rabbit run rabbit run run run . . .
First I’m gonna rape you and make your dumb bf watch and then I’m gonna murder you BOTH.
There were dozens. All the messages had been sent from different accounts with anonymous names and avatars. Frankie felt shaky and sick. Of course, she’d encountered trolls on social media before, but nothing like this.
‘Look at this one,’ she said. ‘We know where u r staying. And this one. Sleep tight. DON’T LET THE BED BUGS BITE!! What does that mean?’
She had expected Ryan to be as shocked as her. As frightened. But he laughed again. ‘Come on, this is typical troll behaviour, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. It could be anyone.’ He stopped, finally noticing how upset she was. ‘It’s not a serious threat. Just ignore it.’
‘I think you should delete the post,’ she said. ‘Or apologise. Actually, you should do both.’
‘What? I’m not apologising. It’s probably some ten-year-old keyboard warrior anyway, with multiple accounts. Don’t worry about it.’
‘But—’
‘Stop,’ Ryan said, giving the phone back. ‘Frankie, relax, okay? I promise you, they’re empty threats made by a bunch of backwoods losers. Let’s go get an ice cream. My treat.’
He strolled off ahead of her, like he didn’t have a care in the world. She tried to follow his example, to persuade herself it was just trolls; nothing to worry about. But she was sure she had seen something on Ryan’s face when he’d been reading the messages. Surprise. A flicker of fear before his smile returned.
Chapter 9
Frankie and I had dinner at the site restaurant, then went to the store to hire a DVD: School of Rock, starring Jack Black.
When we got back to the cabin, Frankie paused just inside the doorway.
‘It seems different in here.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked around, sniffing the air. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m imagining it.’
The movie was one of her favourites but she didn’t laugh as much as usual. She seemed jittery, but insisted there was nothing on her mind. I wondered if she’d fallen out with Ryan already. Perhaps she was missing her mum or friends, and feeling cut off from the ‘tea’。 Not that I was allowed to attempt to use teenage slang; it apparently made me sound like a sad old man.
‘I’m going to bed,’ Frankie said when the film finished. She had a Stephen King book she’d borrowed from Ryan, one I’d read years before, and even though I worried it might be a little scary for this setting, I was of the firm belief that any reading should be encouraged – not that Frankie needed any encouragement to bury her head in a book. Despite her attachment to her phone, she was always reading, which pleased me enormously. Another book lover on the planet.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ I asked. ‘You know if there’s something on your mind you can always talk to me about it.’
She hesitated.
‘Come on, you can tell your old dad.’
That was obviously the wrong thing to say because she pulled a face and said, ‘I’m going to bed.’
I poured a glass of wine and went outside. It was balmy on the deck, and stars were dotted in the spaces between the trees. Out of nowhere, a wave of melancholy hit me. My failed marriage. The thousands of miles between my daughter and me. My failed career and my empty bank account.
That prompted me to go inside to fetch my notebook. I’d already scribbled down a bunch of stream-of-consciousness ideas, but they needed organising. I turned to a fresh page and started to write.
The murders. Was it Everett Miller? Why did he do it? Where did he go? Rumours he’s still here now – crazy but could add extra element of mystery.
Dark tourism. Growth of true-crime podcasts. What makes people so obsessed with this stuff? Talk to some of Connie’s fans. How do management of Hollow Falls really feel about it? Good for business?
Greg had seemed shocked when I’d mentioned it to him, but would he really care, if it brought in visitors?
Rituals/paganism. Local history of dark beliefs? Influence of music/media?
Victims. Who were they? Reach out to their relatives? How do they feel about fact justice was never done?
That, I realised, was an important angle. Eric and Sally had been cheating on their spouses. What must it feel like to discover your husband or wife had been murdered while being unfaithful? That alone, I was sure, would make this an interesting article. Perhaps I could talk to Eric’s wife and Sally’s husband, if I could track them down.