Silence, then: ‘I’m with you.’
‘Good. Now, the stadium walls stretch as far as you can see and the ceiling is high and domed. Can you see it?’
‘I think so.’
‘Okay. You stay there, keep your eyes closed, keep imagining it.’
She guessed he nodded again.
Carefully, she got on to her knees and felt in front of her, sweeping her arm slowly left and right. She had no idea how close they were to the walls or how big it was down here. Was there anything here? Anything they could stand on to reach the hatch? Any other way out? She needed information, even if it was just to keep her busy, to stop her from panicking. Also, she was trying to avoid thinking about it, but she needed to pee. The man in the crow mask had thought to put down a mattress. Was there a bucket too? She’d watched a lot of horror movies at sleepovers. There was usually a bucket in places like this.
She crawled forward, continuing to sweep her hand left and right.
She felt something. Something made of plastic. She grabbed it and pulled it against her, praying it was what she thought it was.
A flashlight. He’d given them a flashlight!
She found the switch and flicked it on.
Ryan made a distressed noise, a groan that came from deep inside.
‘Keep your eyes shut,’ she said. ‘Picture that stadium.’
But now, with the flashlight illuminating the space around them, Frankie felt a shudder of claustrophobia herself. Four concrete walls, no doors or alcoves. It was hard to tell how big the room was. Maybe twenty feet squared?
She stood and pointed the flashlight at the ceiling. Frankie was five foot six. She stretched one arm upwards. The hatch was at least six feet out of reach. There was no ladder. Nothing to climb or stand on. The walls were smooth.
She forced herself to stop looking.
They were trapped.
‘Frankie,’ said Ryan. Again, he was whispering.
She pointed the beam of the flashlight towards him. ‘Close your eyes.’
‘No. It makes it worse. At least if I keep—’
‘What’s that?’
She blinked, once, twice, hoping it was a shadow, a hallucination. But it was real. The flashlight’s beam had revealed something lying on the floor in the space behind Ryan.
‘Ryan.’ Now she was really whispering. ‘Don’t look.’
But of course he had to look. ‘What is it?’
Frankie tried to convince herself it was a pile of old clothes. Some bags of trash. Broken furniture. But she knew she was kidding herself. The smell – that graveyard stench, of earth and decay – was coming from that part of the basement.
She knew she should stay away from it. But she found herself on her hands and knees, crawling towards the dark shape, the bad smell.
‘Frankie?’ Ryan said.
She got closer. The flashlight’s beam reached it before she did. And now she could see. There was no doubt.
She had been mistaken back at Ryan’s cabin, thinking he was dead.
But this time, it actually was a body.
Chapter 38
Crow glances over at Nikki, huddled miserably on the old couch, her arms wrapped around her knees, head down. She believed too, once upon a time. She wore the mask, took part in the pranks and, later, the ritual. She hated the campers, and believed in the need to protect this place. He wishes she still believed. But in the absence of faith, fear would have to do.
‘If I’m caught, you’ll be caught too,’ he told her earlier that day.
At first, he had been incensed by her growing closeness to the British guy. All the old feelings of jealousy came flooding back, even though he hadn’t thought about Nikki in that way for a long time. But then Abigail had whispered to him that they could use it to their advantage. Use Nikki to lure Tom, get him out of the way so they could get their work done. He had considered bringing Tom here too, but he was worried if both he and Frankie went missing it would draw the attention of the police, spark a manhunt. That was the last thing he wanted. The original plan had been to grab Frankie and Ryan tomorrow night, get it done right away. But then Frankie and Ryan had stumbled upon them by the lake, and suddenly Crow had a problem that needed to be solved. It had required quick thinking. Grab the kids. Send Nikki to get Tom out of the way. That had left one major problem: how to stop Tom and the Butlers from calling the cops.
Leaving the notes, Crow thinks, was a stroke of genius. He’s seen enough kidnap movies to know that if you leave a ransom note saying Don’t call the cops or your kids will die, the parents always hesitate. Crow needs less than twenty-four hours. He’s confident it will be enough. Even if Tom does call the police in the morning, Crow doesn’t think they’ll act immediately. Frankie and Ryan are teenagers. Everyone will assume they’re holed up somewhere screwing or getting wasted.