Page 28 of Into the Dark, We Go
"You folks aren’t from around here," he stated the obvious, having already seen the out-of-state license plate. "Just sightseein’ or...?"
"Just passing through. Decided to do some hiking," I replied.
"Be careful hikin’ in these woods. You know it can be dangerous, with the wildlife and all."
"Thanks, officer. We’ll be careful," Mitchell chimed in.
"I was talkin’ to the driver, son," the Sheriff said, his expression turning stern. "Anythin’ in the car that shouldn’t be here? Firearms? Drugs?"
I shook my head. "N-no."
The Sheriff’s focus shifted to the backseat, locking onto Nick and Mitch. "What about you two? Carry anythin’ to liven up a party?"
I didn’t want to know what he was implying.
"No," Nick answered firmly.
"Just traveling with my sister and friends," Mitchell said.
"Young lady?" The Sheriff addressed June, taking in her black outfit and messy blonde hair. She shook her head, eyes wide with repressed fear. It was the first time I’d seen her look spooked. I wondered if she picked up on the same creepy vibe I did.
"What’s in the trunk? Mind if I take a look?"
Mitchell shifted uncomfortably.
"Just our luggage," I answered, reaching under the seat to release the latch.
The Sheriff walked to the back of the car, my papers still in hand. He shifted a few bags, found nothing suspicious, and finally closed the trunk.
"Alright, everythin’ seems to be in order," he said, handing me back my papers. "You folks be careful hikin’, ya hear?"
"Thank you," I said, swallowing hard as he walked away from the car.
I tried to put my driver’s license back in my wallet, but my hands were shaking, and I dropped the card somewhere under the seat.
"What the hell was that? Why did he stop us? Did he threaten us?" June erupted into a barrage of questions while I tried to retrieve my license.
"Just some small-town Sheriff bullshit," Mitchell said, trying to downplay the situation. Then he turned to me, annoyance clear in his voice. "Just so you know, for future reference, you can say no to a car search if they don’t have a warrant."
"Why would a Sheriff be doing road patrol?" Nick muttered, mostly to himself.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was to keep tabs on newcomers.
The hotel turnedout to be an enormous resort, complete with a golf course and outdoor pool, all surrounded by green mountains. Compared to the rundown motel we’d stayed at before, it felt almost luxurious. I didn’t think Mitchell fully realized what he’d booked until we pulled in. Still, there were benefits. In a larger hotel, it would be easier to pass as just a group of tourists here for a relaxing weekend.
But as we wound through the grounds, it became clear we’d arrived in the off-season. The place was nearly deserted. A lone golfer moved across the course, a couple lounged by the pool, and a single staff member tidied an empty patio.
The majority of the rooms were situated inside small, white, antebellum-style cottages, each one divided into four separate units. They had charming names like Magnolia, Hydrangea, and Dogwood, which suited their picturesque, garden-like surroundings.
When June and I reached our room, we were met with outdated decor and evident signs of wear and tear. The space was small, with a tiny entryway leading into a cramped living area that held a worn-out sofa and two armchairs. The bedroom was equally compact, with two queen beds, but the bathroom was surprisingly spacious, featuring a large, albeit slightly rundown, bathtub.
In the unit next door, where the guys were staying, Mitchell gathered us in the confined living room for what he called a "briefing."
"Now, listen up." His accent softened his stern command as he spoke. "First rule: we watch out for each other. That’s why we’re doing the buddy system."
He scanned the room, making sure we were all paying close attention.
June slumped in the armchair, half-reclined with her legs stretched out, idly fiddling with her rosary. Now and then, she’d look up at her brother, indicating she had been listening.
