Page 68 of Into the Dark, We Go

I closed the door and stayed still. For a while, we sat in silence. Nothing had been happening.

"You have an umbrella?"

"In the glove compartment." I leaned over him to get it, that scent of spice warming me anew.

We walked side by side, huddled beneath the umbrella Nick held over our heads. The sky above was a deep, foreboding gray that bled into the ground in a mist that consumed the cemetery. Humidity clung to my skin like a damp kiss, and I shivered under my coat although it wasn’t cold. A restless energy stirred low in my stomach, a sense that something was about to happen, heightened by the gothic ambiance.

We halted beside a weathered grave, feigning our respects while carefully observing our surroundings. The caretaker was nowhere to be seen, nor was the Reverend.

The downpour eased its relentless beat, slowing to a sporadic pitter and, finally, to scattered drops.

"I see him. Coming out of the woods."

My breath hitched. That was where Sammy’s hiding place was.

Nick slung an arm around my shoulders, probably in case anyone was watching us, a staged show of comfort that doubled as a subtle restraint, even though I hadn’t moved, just stood there trembling like a plucked guitar string, tight and on edge.

Minutes ticked by. Behind us, an engine growled to life, and the Reverend sped away.

"He’s gone. Let’s move." Nick collapsed the umbrella in one swift snap and led the way into the woods.

The forest lay under a damp, gray mist, heavy with the scent of earth and decaying leaves. He held a branch aside, saving me from a cold snap against my face. We pushed through a dense thicket of ferns, but instead of Sammy’s familiar hiding spot, I found myself disoriented. The space was different. It was only when Nick stopped in front of me that I understood why. All of Sammy’s belongings were gone, just like Sammy himself. The clearing was empty.

"The bark’s been cut where the symbol was," Nick squatted by the tree. I approached to see the gash in the trunk, the exposed wood raw and pale as perished fruit.

The forest instantly felt even less welcoming. I started glancing around, uneasy, as if someone might be watching us. The Reverend had found Sammy’s hiding spot, and judging by the way he cleared it out, he knew exactly what it was and did not want anyone else to see it.

When we got back to the car, I immediately cranked up the heat and rubbed my hands together, but the shiver I felt wasn’t just from my wet boots. Duane’s death was no accident, though I’d convinced myself it wasn’t our fault, at least not directly.After all, he’d been investigating the disappearances long before we had. Now, the facts stared me in the face: people who knew something were silenced after we’d talked to them.

"Mathilda was right," I gasped, my throat tight. "Duane didn’t paint over his walls. The Reverend did. We need to tell Mitch and June."

"Not yet."

"What? Why?"

"I want to check out that place in the woods. The one Tilly told us about."

"All the more reason to bring Mitch and June! We shouldn’t go alone."

"Mitch will shoot it down, like he does with every other reasonable idea we have. I’m tired of him micromanaging us. We should go, just the two of us. Now. And if we find something, great. If not, at least we’ll know we tried."

Nick turned to face me, his elbow propped on the seatback. I felt it in my gut—Nick had a point. Mitchell’s frustration was clouding his judgment, and as he focused on managing it, time slipped away, fueling his anger. He expected faster results, but each step we took seemed to create more questions. Yet, sneaking off didn’t sit right with me. Not for a second time.

"Your shoes are soaked," I said, giving him one last reason not to go. "You’ll catch a cold."

"I won’t," Nick said, cocking his head as he awaited my response.

I had a pair of running shoes stashed in the trunk. Not ideal, but they’d suffice for a hike through the woods.

"Fine, give me directions."

The Black Water Creek Trailwas the only one on the east side of town. It was pretty far out—about a forty-minute drive—andtucked away in the middle of nowhere, with no signs to mark the turnoff. We almost missed it. From the looks of it, the trail hadn’t been maintained in a while. Whether it was the weather or the condition of the path, there weren’t any other cars parked nearby. No one else was hiking out there today. Just us.

"Let’s start with the trail and see where it takes us," Nick suggested.

I wasn’t a hiker. I never understood the appeal or why Lucas loved being in nature so much. Sleeping outside under the sky and looming trees terrified me. He used to say the woods tapped into our primal fears, that they represented the unknown and the uncontrollable, things you couldn’t fix by calling the police or flipping a switch. That never comforted me. Quite the opposite.

Aside from the one time I agreed to camp with him up north, we never went together again. I preferred doors and civilization. Maybe it wasn’t as reliable as we liked to think, but at least it was familiar.