Page 73 of Into the Dark, We Go

Her tone turned suspicious. "What do you mean, ‘held up’? What’s going on?"

"Something came up."

But she wasn’t having it. "What is it? Is this about that boy? For goodness’ sake, Nellie, are you still trying to find him?"

I glanced at Nick, who remained focused on the road, but I knew he could hear my mother’s loud voice on the phone.

"Can we talk later? I’m driving," I lied.

But she persisted. "Where are you?"

"Bye, Mom!" I hung up and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Nick offered a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like she’s not a fan of Lucas."

I shook my head. "She’s not a fan of me, period. And anyone I care about gets caught in the crossfire."

He chuckled, and the sound eased some of the tension in my chest.

"I bet she loves you and is just worried."

This was true. My mother did love me, but her love was a suffocating shroud, conditional on my conforming to her expectations. She made me feel guilty for wanting space, for needing my own life, where I could make my own decisions, my own mistakes, and take responsibility for them. I was expected to follow her script.

My right hand twitched toward my left wrist, reaching for the bracelet. I did it without thinking, a habit that kicked in whenever I was nervous or too tired to think straight. But my fingers met only bare skin. I blinked, staring at the empty spot like it might reappear if I waited long enough. It must have fallen off somewhere back in the woods. I couldn’t feel anything right away, just this strange buzz under my skin. Another piece of Lucas, gone. Like the closer I got to finding him, the more he slipped away from me.

Mitchell and Junewere waiting in the hotel room, visibly worried.

"What in tarnation? Where’ve you been?" Mitchell asked the moment we stepped through the door.

"I convinced her to go search the woods with me," said Nick, taking the blame.

I couldn’t bring myself to care about Mitchell’s accusations. The most important thing was that something was off in those woods, and we needed to investigate it further, properly equipped.

In the warmth of the hotel room, the scent of the forest clung to my clothes. I shed my coat and sweater, letting them fall to the floor, my body craving a shower to wash it all away. But duty called, and I settled beside Nick on the couch for the debrief.

Nick, too, carried the musky aroma of wet leaves, moss, tree bark, and damp earth. Yet, on him, the scent was oddly fitting, almost like an extension of his natural presence.

I let Nick recount our grim adventures, beginning with the woods and circling back to the cemetery, where the Reverend had allegedly cleared out Sammy’s hiding place, and worse.

"What about you? Did you find anything?" he asked in the end.

"Just this." June retrieved a wrinkled piece of paper from the coffee table. Nick took it, flipping it over. Under the bold heading "MISSING CHILD," Sammy’s face stared back at us.

21

Chapter Twenty-One

September, 2020

The thunderstorm ragedthrough the night, promising a grueling hike ahead.

We spent the early hours hunched over the area map. Mitchell traced the lines, trying to make sense of them, while Nick pointed to where he guessed we were. Pinpointing our exact route was nearly impossible. Without a signal, we were navigating blind. Even Nick’s expensive watch, with its built-in navigation, came up empty.

Mitchell remained skeptical of our so-called paranormal experiences, convinced we had simply lost our way and were lucky to have made it back.

I flipped through the photos we’d taken from Duane’s place, not really looking for anything but unable to stop myself. Deep down, I wanted to catch some detail we’d overlooked.

Sammy’s missing child poster lay on the table, staring back at me like an unspoken accusation.This is your fault.