Everett had been hiding. He knew everyone suspected him of the murder. Frankie didn’t know if he was guilty or not, but maybe that wasn’t important, not any more. Everett hadn’t run off to Canada. He’d come here. Most likely, he’d been walking through the house, looking for a place to hide in the dark, and the hatch had been open. He’d fallen through.
Even in her current predicament, Frankie could hardly imagine how scared he must have been. Hungry and cold and thirsty. Calling and calling with no answer. Praying for a miracle. Trying to figure out a way to escape before realising it was a puzzle with no solution. Had he sat here and thought about all the things he’d done wrong in his life – which might, or might not, have included murder? Did he pray the police would find him? Were there people – parents, friends – he wanted to apologise to? Did he picture his mother crying, believing he was a killer, wondering where she and his father had gone wrong?
And then she thought about her own dad, how frantic he must be right now, searching for her. She wondered if he’d called her mum to let her know what was going on, and if she was on her way to Maine. And what about the police? Were they combing these woods right now, searching for them?
There had to be other people in Penance, besides the ones who had put them here, who knew the location of this house. There had to be.
Except Everett Miller had probably thought the same thing.
Beside her, Ryan stirred and opened his eyes.
‘Are we still here?’ he said.
‘I’m afraid so.’
He closed his eyes again. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
She pointed to the corner of the basement. ‘There it is.’
They both giggled, and Frankie wondered if they were losing their minds.
He shuffled off to the other side of the room and said, ‘Don’t listen.’
Frankie had already been, while he was asleep. A spider had run over her foot, and she had made a vow never to complain about any public restroom ever again, no matter how foul. When they got out of this. If they got out.
As Ryan came back, she heard footsteps above, followed by voices. A man’s voice and a higher one. A woman? Or one of the twins? She was relieved they were still here, despite the hatred and fear she felt towards them. She wanted them to fall through the hatch and break their necks – but only after they’d let her and Ryan out.
Ryan sat back down on the mattress and they looked up at the ceiling.
‘What do you think they want with us?’ he asked.
‘I’m trying not to think about it.’
‘Sorry. It’s just . . .’
‘Just?’
‘I keep remembering what those little kids said about Buddy and Darlene burying that cat alive. Maybe this is them doing that to us.’
‘Jesus. Thanks, Ryan.’
They fell silent and Frankie tried to make out the words from above, but the voices were too muffled.
‘A family of psychopaths,’ Ryan said. ‘Have you seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?’
‘Ryan, please!’
‘Sorry.’
‘How old was Greg at the time of the murders?’ Frankie asked, glancing in the direction of Everett’s body.
‘No idea. How old do you figure he is now? Thirty-something?’
‘So he would have been around our age then.’ She paused. ‘Old enough to kill someone.’
Ryan appeared to let that sink in. ‘Is this . . . is this all because I dissed Penance on Instagram?’
She reached out and found his hand. Squeezed it.
‘The police will be looking for us. There’ll be helicopters out searching. They’ll find us.’
If only she could believe it.
‘We’re going to be—’
She stopped. There was a scraping sound, and then light flooded the basement. Somebody had opened the hatch.
Please let it be the police. Please let it be our parents.
‘Stand clear,’ came a voice, and something dropped through the hole and hit the floor. It rolled towards them. A bottle of water, followed by another one. Then something else landed. A paper bag.
Frankie craned her neck upwards. The man was looking down at her, still wearing his crow mask. He still wasn’t letting them see his face. That was a good sign, right? Greg was under the impression they didn’t know it was him.
‘Some sandwiches for you there,’ he said. ‘A couple of bananas and apples.’
‘Please,’ Frankie said. ‘Please. Let us out.’
‘Please,’ Ryan echoed.