‘True. Not many of us do. But I like it here.’ He stopped and looked around him. ‘I mean, look at it. I bet I could travel the whole world and not find anywhere as beautiful.’
We had so far been following the path back towards the resort. Now we turned on to a new path, where the trees were thicker and the ground beneath our feet was less well trodden. I could hear wind chimes.
‘So what do you do back in England?’ Carl asked.
‘I’m a music journalist.’
‘That’s cool. A lot better than being a true-crime journalist, anyway.’ He shook his head, the disdain evident.
‘You’re not a fan?’
He grunted. ‘Dark tourists, is that what you call them? Fucking ghouls, that’s what I call them. It’s good for business, though, I guess. Hollow Falls would be half empty if it wasn’t for them.’ He laughed. ‘Hollow Falls. I don’t even know why they called it that. There aren’t any goddamn waterfalls for miles. Guess it sounded good to the marketing people, huh?’
The wind chimes were louder now and, all of a sudden, we were in a clearing.
‘This could be it,’ he said. ‘The place where your daughter dropped her phone.’
I looked around. If he was right, this was the place where Frankie had seen the masked figures.
‘What was she doing out here anyway?’ he asked.
‘She got lost.’
‘Is that right?’
I could tell what he was thinking. A teenage girl, in the woods at night. She must have been up to no good. A boy, cigarettes, drugs.
We searched the clearing, walking in straight lines, scanning the ground. I was grateful to Carl for helping, though he didn’t seem to be looking particularly hard.
‘You got insurance?’ he asked. ‘Because I really don’t think we’re gonna find it.’
He was right.
‘Where are those wind chimes coming from?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? I think they must be tied to a tree but I have no idea who put them there.’
I sighed. Then I had an idea. I wasn’t going to actively work on my article over the coming days, but I was here with Carl, a local.
‘You know how I said I’m a music journalist? I’m actually planning a change of direction. I’m writing a piece about Hollow Falls and what happened here.’
He looked at me, his hands on his hips. ‘Are you now?’
‘I’d like to interview a few of the people who lived here back then. Maybe you could give me your email address so I could send you some questions? I also want to write about the dark-tourism angle. It would be great if I could quote you. What you said earlier, about it being good for business.’
He laughed. ‘Get out of here. You want me to get fired?’
‘It could be anonymous.’
He shook his head. ‘Sounds like it would draw even more rubberneckers here. All the way from the UK.’
‘I don’t think that would happen. Besides, like you said, no matter how distasteful you find it, it’s good for business. Good for your job.’
He appeared to think about it. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Sorry, man. I don’t want to get involved. Greg was going on about it at our last team meeting. We don’t want this place to be famous because of the murders.’ He paused. ‘I really don’t think we’re going to find this phone. What made her drop it anyway? Did something scare her?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘Hey, I’m aware of all the rumours. About Everett Miller still lurking in these woods. All bullshit, of course.’
‘Did you know him?’
I knew exactly what he was going to say. ‘Everyone knew him. He was the town freak.’
‘Nikki said he was all right. That he wasn’t a “freak”。’
‘Really? She . . . Hey, did you hear that?’
‘What?’
‘I thought I heard someone. In the trees.’
He walked quickly towards a spot near the edge of the clearing. I expected someone wearing a sheep or bird mask to step out at any second.
‘Hey,’ Carl called. ‘Is someone there?’
Silence.
‘Come on. Whoever it is, help us. Come out and help us look for this phone.’ He laughed and winked at me.
More silence.
‘I guess I imagined it,’ Carl said.
I was sure I could feel it, though. Someone there, watching us. Listening. But all I could hear was the ringing of those hidden wind chimes.