Page 50 of Into the Dark, We Go

Nick ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy. "Because I’m not about to throw around the word murder and shut people down. You want them to talk, right?"

I also found Nick’s reluctance to ask about his mother puzzling, but I agreed with him. Going around asking about a murder that had been ruled accidental manslaughter with no witnesses and no suspects felt as risky as walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers, especially knowing the killer could still be local.

Before anyone could speak again, Nick patted his pockets and said, "I think I dropped the keys in the church. I’ll be right back."

June and Mitchell were still bickering, so I followed him, keeping the buddy system in mind but mostly trying to get away from Mitch before I lost my temper. Someone had to act like an adult.

We walked back to the church, and as we opened the door, I recognized the muffled tread of someone trying to tiptoe. I peered up. The little boy—the one the Reverend claimed wasn’t there—was fiddling with something by the altar. The door creaked closed, and he scrambled to his feet, his small body instinctively shrinking away from view as he darted behind the altar.

"Wait, please!" I called out as he fled and gestured for Nick to stay back, not wanting to scare the little boy any more.

I stepped closer, slowly and carefully. The kid looked to be about seven or eight, with skinny limbs and unruly hair. His nails were long and caked with dirt, and his oversized clothes fluttered around him like sails. There was a faint scent of grime and neglect in the air.

"Hi," he said, pausing before me, his eyes wide with a mixture of hesitant interest and caution, like a stray animal sizing up a stranger—curious but ready to bolt.

"Hey, I’m Nellie." I crouched to his level. "What’s your name?"

"Sammy." He smiled timidly, then corrected himself with a hint of bravado. "Sam."

I kept my distance, not wanting to scare him further. "We didn’t mean to scare you, Sam," I said. "But I wanted to ask you a few questions."

The boy shot a look behind me at Nick, feet shifting. I could tell he was unsure about Nick’s presence.

"This is my friend, Nick," I said. "He can stay over there or leave if you want him to."

Sammy looked at Nick again, his big blue eyes taking in every detail. "He can stay."

"We saw you at the cemetery today, Sam."

He edged away, gaze darting towards the door, as if searching for an escape.

"You didn’t do anything wrong," I said, holding up my hands. "We wanted to ask you about it, if that’s okay."

Sam blinked slowly, still wary. "Okay."

Questioning a child without his parents present didn’t sit well with me. It was too reminiscent of how the police had treated me, and now we were putting a little kid through the same ordeal. But our intentions were different. We were seeking truth, not just closing a case.

"We found some things there," I continued, pulling out the photo from my pocket. "It’s a friend of mine. Did you know him?"

The kid shook his head.

"Did you take this photo from a grave? It’s okay if you did. Really."

Sammy mumbled, "I guess so."

I smiled, trying to put him at ease. "You’ve got a nice arrangement there in the woods."

Sammy kept quiet, waiting to see where I was going with this.

"It’s really cool," Nick said, coming to stand beside me. He squatted down to our level. He moved so quietly, I hadn’t even noticed him approaching. "Is it something you came up with?"

Sam’s lower lip jutted out. "Yeah, why?"

Nick held up his hands, mirroring my earlier gesture. "Just curious. What’s it for?"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged. "Just playin’, I guess."

"Have you seen anything like this anywhere else? I mean, besides the cemetery?"