Page 15 of Dead Man's Hollow
Heather disappeared that night and has never been seen or heard from again. No body was ever found. No suspects were ever identified, at least not publicly. The girl seemingly vanished without a trace. For three decades, her case has remained an open missing person’s case. Ice cold, and without a single apparent lead.
Evan and Owen erupt with excitement, pulling his attention back to the television. Someone’s hit an out-of-the-park homer and is waving his cap as he rounds third. Amy glances up, placing a finger on her page to mark her spot. He catches her eye and hurriedly raises his fist in a cheer. She smiles and returns to her reading. He’s missed the snippet of her speaking during the faux celebration. That’s okay by him. Her voice explaining how her parents died still hoping to be reunited with their missing daughter is like a knife to his gut.
Amy, just eighteen months older than Heather, was at the bonfire that night, too. She says Heather was in high spirits, singing and dancing with her friends. And then she was gone.
This is true. Heather was putting on a show, undulating in front of the fire. Her long permed hair was bouncing off her back as she moved, and eventually she lifted the mass of heavy curls off her neck, holding it up with one hand. He was like a moth, drawn to the fire. Or, let’s be real, the girl. Which was a problem. He had a serious girlfriend. Or as serious of a girlfriend as an eighteen-year-old could have. But Julia was a grade ahead and had gone to college the year before. Just to Pitt, so they stayed together—sort of. She had stopped coming home after her winter break, expecting Rich to travel into Oakland to hang out. And he did, but he was getting tired of being treated like a kid by her friends, most of whom were only months older than him. And that’s when he started seeing Heather on the side.
Now, as the thirtieth anniversary of Heather’s disappearance approaches, her sisters have reached out to the Farley Files. Youngest sister Kristy explains they need to know what happened to Heather that night in the woods and where she ended up.
But Heather, who’d been into the whole secret relationship at first, had started to whine about being used. She’d even threatened to tell Julia. He glances at his wife and tries to remember why he cared so much.
He’d known, even as a senior in high school, that he wouldn’t end up with Julia. Or Heather. But at the time, the thought of Heather ratting him out had seemed like the end of the world. He had to keep her in line. He became distant. And that’s why he knew the whole thing with kid from Allderdice was a nothingburger. Heather was only trying to make him jealous by coming onto that guy. Trying to get his attention. Well, she succeeded.
Now his sister-in-law’s voice fills his ears.
Kristy: [I]t’s been thirty years. Nothing we learn will change how we feel about our sister.
He wonders if that’s true. He thinks if Amy, who was a virgin when they started dating, finds out Rich had been screwing her little sister, it’d definitely change how she feels abouthim. But more than that, it could change how she feels about Heather, too. And he’s not sure, but he thinks Kristy might know—or suspect—something. Did she give him a sidelong look when she told the others about Heather’s pager? It felt like she did. Like maybe she knew he paged their sister for hookups.
The clip restarts, and he digs his fingers into the denim of his jeans. When Diana had proposed the idea of contacting the podcast in a last-ditch effort to find Heather, he’d kept his cool. He didn’t really think they’d go through with it. And he certainly didn’t think Maisy Farley would be interested in the thirty-year-old case of a teenager who almost everyone had written off as a runaway.
Wrong, much?he thinks, using one of Ava’s favorite digs. He barks out a bitter laugh and immediately regrets it as Amy glances up from her book to shoot him a quizzical look.
He pops out one earbud and lies smoothly as he gestures toward the television. “You know how I feel about these national TV announcers. I’m listening to the KDKA radio broadcast on my phone. Anyway, they just said something funny.”
She nods, uninterested, and goes back to reading. He exhales.
Keep it together, Rich.Everyone who was in the woods that night has maintained their silence for three decades. He has to trust that won’t change.
ChapterTen
Bastian Tremblay closeshis eyes and allows the podcaster’s voice—sweet and smooth—to wash over him. The long vowels and droppedgs charm him, even though they’re not standard Anglo pronunciation and, so, don’t help him much in his continual quest to perfect his English. The trailer ends and restarts immediately. He opens his eyes and lifts the lid off the enamel Dutch oven on the stove to inhale the savory scent of thebouillihe’s making:
As its name suggests, Dead Man’s Hollow’s history is one of confirmed and unconfirmed deaths and tragedies dating back more than one hundred and fifty years. In the years between 1880 and 1905, the hollow was the scene of at least one fatal shooting, a deadly quarry explosion, a drowning, and a tragic elevator accident. Today, Dead Man’s Hollow is a 450-acre conservation area in McKeesport, PA, less than twenty miles from Downtown Pittsburgh. Owned and maintained by the Allegheny Land Trust, Dead Man’s Hollow offers eight miles of hiking and biking trails and interpretive nature and history programs.
Chloe walks through the kitchen with a basket of folded laundry on her hip. She pauses to listen for a moment, shooting him a quizzical look.
But in 1994, one year before plans to preserve the area were announced, Dead Man’s Hollow was a neglected dumping ground, choked with weeds and trash, and a favorite party spot for underaged teens. The kids were drawn to the remote location by the spooky legend of its spine-tingling past and because it was off the radar of their parents and other adults in the community.
He pauses the player to explain. “Practicing my English.”
“Curious choice of subject matter,” his wife counters with a small smile.
He shrugs. “I like her voice. But, it’s true it’s not a good match for the topic. It’s not compatible.”
“Incongruent,” she agrees.
Chloe never has to practice her English. And neither does Emilie, their fourteen-year-old spitfire who can sass her parents just as well in English and in French—a true bilingualQuébécoise.But Bastian’s mother tongue is French, and French was all he spoke growing up.
Then, as a young man, he moved from his small village in the countryside to Quebec City to take a job as an apprentice chef in a well-regarded restaurant. His first assignment was to learn to speak English, and he did. Each night, after dragging his tired body home from work, he would pop one American movie into the player and watch it in English, with the captions on. He wasn’t particular about genre or plot—whatever was available from the library served his purposes. And this is how Bastian taught himself to speak fluent English. He watched and then rewatched everything fromAladdintoSister ActtoThe Fugitive.
By the time Chloe walked through the restaurant doors to apply for a job waiting tables, he was the executive chef, and his English was good enough to flirt with her. As it turned out, her French was better, but once they started dating, they fell into the habit of speaking English to each other. And now, after twenty-seven years together, they shift from French to English and back seamlessly, often mid-conversation. Sometimes mid-sentence.
But Bastian doesn’t want to get rusty, so he continues to consume media in English. Now, instead of movies, it’s often English-language podcasts from all over. He likes the format because he can listen to them while he cooks without having the distraction of a screen. And he particularly likes “The Farley Files.” He got hooked on the first season and is thrilled to know Maisy Farley is starting a second season.
“Is this a ghost story?” Chloe asks, cocking her head toward the speaker.
“No.” He shakes his head and glances at the timer he’s set for the bread dough he’s tucked into the warming drawer to rise. “A missing person case.” He resumes the stream:
