It was only later that day, when Carl came out to the cabin to visit Abigail’s altar, that he discovered Everett hadn’t run to Canada as everyone suspected. He was here. Hiding out.
Carl found him cowering in the bedroom, convinced he was going to be sent to prison for life for a crime he would never have dreamed of committing.
‘How did you know about this place?’ Carl asked.
‘Nikki showed me.’
Of course she had.
Carl was forced to think on his feet.
‘They’re in the woods with dogs, looking for you,’ he said.
Everett made a sobbing noise. What the hell did Nikki see in this snivelling dick? ‘I want to see Nikki,’ he said, as though he’d read Carl’s thoughts and found her there.
Carl made reassuring noises. ‘I’ll fetch her. But maybe you should hide in case the dogs track your scent.’
Everett had agreed that was a good idea and Carl had opened the hatch to the basement, inviting Everett to wait down there until the coast was clear. And as Everett had begun to descend the ladder, Carl had kicked him in the face, causing him to fall all the way to the hard ground. While Everett lay there, stunned, Carl pulled up the ladder and shut the hatch.
He never told Nikki that he’d seen Everett. And he discouraged her from visiting the cabin by pointing out that they should stay away from each other for a while, just in case.
He pretended, like everyone else, that he believed Everett had crossed the border. Disappeared.
And it was strange. In the aftermath of that night, he found he wasn’t so interested in Nikki any more. His interest in her seemed trivial somehow. Juvenile. Of course, he would need to keep an eye on her, to ensure she didn’t have an attack of conscience. Greg too. He worried they might find religion and decide they needed to confess. But that never happened, and over the years his interest in Nikki faded to a sepia memory. There was only one woman he cared about. Abigail.
She was all he needed.
All he would ever, ever need.
Chapter 43
The wind. Follow . . .
Greg’s words. What had he been trying to communicate?
I left his now certainly dead body in his room, and went downstairs. How long had it been since I’d called the police? Fifteen minutes. They would still be a long way from here, presuming they’d even set out.
I went outside. While I’d been in the house, the sky had darkened further, black rain clouds converging over Penance.
My punishment, Greg had said as he lay dying. Did he mean being stabbed to death? Or was he talking about his children and how they had turned out? Did he believe he was paying the price for what he took part in back in 1999? Him and Nikki and . . . Carl? Greg had said Carl’s name, had seemed to think I was him for a moment.
I had seen Carl last night, at the barbecue. I could hardly remember our conversation – the music had drowned most of it out – but I clearly remembered our previous encounter, when he had, it seemed clear now, pretended to help me look for Frankie’s phone. He had teased me about Nikki, and I guessed it must have been obvious that I was attracted to her. What else had we talked about? His disdain for the dark tourists who flocked here. How it must have maddened him that his original crime had increased the popularity of this place. Rubberneckers drawn to gawp at the murder scene, trampling all over his precious woods. Had he been following me that day? Watched me bang on the door of the bookstore, worrying about my new friendship with Nikki? Thinking about how he could use it against me?
And as I replayed that encounter in my head, I heard what had been there in the background of our conversation.
The wind chimes.
The wind. Follow . . .
Greg had been telling me to follow the sound of the wind chimes.
The heavens opened. The rain – the first I’d seen since coming here – was sudden, heavy. No slow build-up. An instant downpour. The little kids quickly gathered up their toys and vanished inside.
I sprinted towards the woods.
Chapter 44
Carl hears a noise behind him and turns from the altar. Buddy and Darlene enter the cabin.
‘Where have you been?’ he asks.
They don’t answer. They just stare at him in that maddeningly vacant way of theirs.
‘What’s going on out there? Have you been watching the parents like I asked? Any sign they’ve called the police?’
It’s frustrating, having to rely on these two to be his eyes and ears. Anderson and Butler might have broken the rules already. The woods could be crawling with cops. But he really doesn’t believe they would risk it.