Page 54 of Into the Dark, We Go

"No, you’re not." She was quick as a dart when she blocked the exit with folded arms. "You’re driving somewhere." She eyed my fist where I held the car key like a secret. "You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere alone. Is this about my brother?"

I hated lying, and I was terrible at it. My mother could always tell when I tried to deceive her, so I gave up instantly.

"I just want to check on something. It won’t take long. Will you cover for me?"

"Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll think about it."

I cleared my throat and confessed, "To talk to Duane."

June’s jaw flexed. "So itisabout my brother."

"It’s not. It’s about Lucas."

June picked up her jacket from the bed. "I’m coming with you."

"If your brother finds out, he’ll kill me before I can say ‘over and out’."

"I’m my own person. So, what, you’re just not going to go because I want to tag along?" She was calling my bluff.

I weighed my options. June might not have been old enough to drink, but she was old enough to make her own decisions. Even if Mitchell got mad at me, we were still following his orders, sticking together.

"Fine. But you say nothing about this. To anyone."

"If he’s still drunk, I know how to get him to sober up," June said as we pulled out of the parking lot.

I raised an eyebrow. "Quite the expertise."

June’s bucket of water trick had worked briefly, but almost got us shot. The confidence and quiet anger with which sheexecuted the action last time made me wonder where she got that kind of experience.

"My dad was a drunk," she said, as though reading my thoughts.

"Did he quit?" My dad, a contractor, had worked with many AA members, so the story wasn’t new to me.

"Kind of. He’s in jail now."

I let the silence stretch out, sensing that June had already revealed more than she was comfortable with. But the few details she’d shared were already fitting into a troubling narrative. And a worrying thought began to take shape: the siblings’ reluctance to talk about their family might be connected to Amanda’s disappearance.

It was possible that Mitchell’s obsession with finding Amanda wasn’t just about duty or brotherly love. It was guilt. The same kind of guilt that drove me to search for Lucas, because for a while, I truly believed his disappearance had something to do with me.

The neighborhood was punctuatedby warm lights spilling from nearby houses, but Duane’s house loomed ahead, its windows like empty eyes, foreboding and unwelcoming.

I knocked softly on the front door and waited in silence. No one answered.

June whispered, "Is he ever home? Or do we have to fish him out of that bar again?"

I shot her a look. I was already on edge, and her comments were more than I could handle right now. We waited a bit longer, then I tugged at the door to see if it would open. It was locked.

"Let’s try the side door."

Like last time, it was open.

"What’s the point of locking the front door if anyone can just walk in here?" June grumbled.

We stepped into the kitchen, but this time, it was pitch-black.

June wrinkled her nose. "What’s that smell?"

A pungent, chemical stench hit me, unmistakable from the days I’d spent helping my dad with garage renovations. "Paint."