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The Hollows(67)

Author:Mark Edwards

However crazy it seemed, there was something big here. Much bigger than what we knew Buddy and Darlene had done. I was sure of it. Before, I had intended to tell the police about what had happened with the teens, then leave and let them get on with it. But now . . . I felt like I was close to something. A revelation about this place and its twisted history.

‘Dad,’ Frankie prompted again. Greg was still chatting with Vivian. He seemed cheery and less sweaty than usual. Buddy and Darlene stood, sullen and bored, beside him.

What would the police say if I went to them with my new suspicions?

Greg was the manager here. That made him a respected member of the community. He could easily say that I was imagining everything or making it up. There was absolutely no evidence that Donna hadn’t misplaced that bottle of pills herself. And without Ryan’s photos, we had no proof that the masked figures existed.

Did we have anything? Any proof of wrongdoing at all? All we had were the Instagram messages, which could be retrieved by logging in to Frankie’s Instagram account on any phone. They had been sent from anonymous accounts, but at least it was evidence of something. It might be enough to make the police talk to us.

‘Do you remember the Wi-Fi password?’ I said.

Frankie nodded. ‘Hollow321. Capital H.’

It was the kind of weak password I would come up with. ‘Great. Show me where you got a signal.’

It wasn’t far; just on the other side of the reception building. We hid beside the dumpsters and I typed in the password. My phone didn’t have much charge and it took a while to connect to the signal, but soon I was on.

I downloaded Instagram, which took far longer than it should have because of the poor broadband connection, then handed my phone to Frankie so she could log in. She fumbled the password then tried again, successfully.

‘Oh, what?’ she said.

She handed me the phone.

‘They’ve all been deleted.’

‘You’re kidding.’

But she was right. Her inbox was empty.

‘They must have found my phone when I dropped it, and unlocked it.’

‘Is your passcode easy to guess?’ I asked.

She frowned. ‘It’s my date of birth.’

Which I’d had to give when I booked this place, along with my own. Frankie looked crestfallen, like she’d done something very stupid. But I couldn’t be angry with her. My passcode was my wedding anniversary. I’d been meaning to change it since the divorce but had never got round to it, even though it caused a flicker of pain every time I tapped it in.

We went back to near where Greg was standing, and just as we got there he started to move, heading in the direction of the unlit bonfire, Vivian and the other staff member following. Buddy and Darlene trailed behind.

They both turned their heads, looking back at us in tandem. Staring at me and Frankie. It sent a chill through me.

It was fully dark now and I realised Greg must be going to light the fire. I watched as people in red polo shirts moved through the crowd, directing people towards the spot on the shore where the bonfire had been built. Then the band finished the song they were playing and didn’t resume another. A hush fell across the resort. At the same time, people who had been at the tent listening to Neal began to file back. I couldn’t see David, Connie or Neal among them, and guessed they must still be at the tent.

‘Dad,’ said Frankie.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear her at first.

‘Dad.’

‘Sorry. What?’

Frankie nodded. There was a woman standing in front of us, smiling at me.

It was Nikki.

‘Hey,’ she said.

I blinked at her. She seemed completely different to earlier. She looked like she’d showered, washed her hair. She was wearing lipstick. And she was smiling. There was no denying it: she was beautiful. But this was all very disconcerting. It was as if our conversation earlier hadn’t happened. As if she were a different person.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean? I didn’t want to miss the party. Also, I thought I’d take your advice and spread the word about the bookstore.’

‘But . . .’

‘Hi, Frankie,’ Nikki said. And that’s when it started to make sense. She was putting on a show for Frankie. She didn’t want to frighten her. But Nikki knew something. Something that had made her tell me we were in danger. Something connected to Greg? Something I could go to the police with?

I needed to talk to her alone. And from the way she was looking at me, I was sure she wanted to talk to me too.

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