Page 27 of Into the Dark, We Go
9
Chapter Nine
September, 2020
June was supposedto be helping Nick using her phone’s map, but instead, she was glued to the window. The rolling hills grew taller, taking us up into the mountains.
With her attention elsewhere, Nick relied on road signs to navigate, a skill he seemed to excel at. I envied him. I was lost without GPS unless I knew the route well.
Beside me in the back seat, Mitchell followed his paper map, cross-checking against passing signs as if compensating for his sister’s navigational neglect. That, or he couldn’t bear to relinquish full control.
"Getting close," he announced.
My stomach clenched. I caught myself playing with my bracelet again, one charm already loose. I tucked it into my pocket to save it from any more wear, and tried to calm down. Without warning, Nick switched to the far-right lane, pulled into a deserted rest stop, and put the car in park.
"Nell should take the wheel when we go into town," he said.
"Why?" Mitchell and I asked in unison.
"Just a gut feeling."
"No, you’ve only been driving for an hour." Mitchell sounded frustrated.
"It’s okay, I’ll drive," I said. Though Nick’s reasoning seemed weak, I didn’t want to stir up another argument, so agreeing was easier.
Mitchell wasn’t happy, but he didn’t say anything as Nick and I switched seats.
I grabbed the steering wheel, still warm from Nick’s hands. We exited the highway and turned onto a narrow, single-lane road marked with a sign for "Black Water." It wound between hills thick with forest, and I slowed to traverse the sharp turns. The road seemed newly renovated—the asphalt smooth, the markings crisp.
After half an hour, the trees thinned out, revealing scattered houses. The forest receded, and the narrow country road became a street.
"Turn right there," Mitchell instructed, checking the map.
A short honk from a police car tore me from reacting. A sturdy cruiser with a faded gold star on its side pulled up behind us. I hastily glanced at the dashboard to see if I was speeding. I wasn’t.
Once we’d pulled over, the Sheriff, a stout man with a short, fiery red beard, emerged from the vehicle.
"Stay calm. Everything’s fine," Mitchell said, abruptly putting away his phone and map and folding his hands on his knees.
I’d never been pulled over by a cop before, and I was immediately nervous. However, my father covered this scenario when he taught me to drive, so I was familiar with the drill. I pulled the keys from the ignition and placed them on the dashboard, lowered the window, and then returned my hands to the wheel.
"License and registration, ma’am," the Sheriff said in a flat, detached tone. He peered into the car, scanning every detail.
"Everything all right, officer?" I handed him the documents.
He didn’t acknowledge my question. His brow furrowed as he scrutinised my papers. Only after a few long seconds did he say, without looking at me, "Routine check. Just arrived in town?"
"Yes, sir," I said, forcing a friendly smile, though my hands were turning clammy on the wheel.
The Sheriff returned to his SUV, probably to run my license and registration. I stared at the three others in the car, but no one said a word.
I shot Nick and Mitch a sideways look that clearly asked,What’s going on?
Nick raised his hands slightly, palms up in a helpless little shrug.
Mitchell, on the other hand, sat ramrod straight, like he’d swallowed a broomstick. For someone who talked about becoming a cop, he looked deeply uncomfortable around this one.
The Sheriff came back with a heavy gait and leaned in, scanning the interior once more. For a few seconds, his face felt uncomfortably close to mine. I could smell the pungent mix of sweat, stale cigarettes, and a hint of something metallic on him. It was unnerving, and I fought the urge to recoil, but stayed put, eyes fixed ahead. Everyone remained quiet; even June sat rigidly beside me, silent for once.
