Page 47 of Into the Dark, We Go
June clung to her brother’s arm, pleading with him to let go of the caretaker.
"Mitch, please! You’re hurting him! He doesn’t know anything!" Her voice shook with desperation.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Let him go!" Nick stepped forward, but Mitch didn’t even acknowledge him. His focus was entirely on the caretaker.
He shoved a photo into Gideon’s face. "I know my sister was here, and you saw her. Why are you lying?"
The caretaker shook his head, his mouth moving in protest, but Mitch wasn’t having any of it.
"You’ll kill him!" June yelped, her voice cracking.
Without warning, Mitchell blinked and released his grip. Gideon staggered backward, scrambling several feet away, his breath ragged and panicked.
"It’s okay, it’s okay," June whispered, her hand on her brother’s arm.
The caretaker, still visibly shaken, moved further back, eyes wild. He spat on the ground. "What’s wrong with you all? I’m callin’ the Sheriff! Get outta here!"
Nick signaled for me to lead the way, stepping in behind us, likely to keep Mitchell from lashing out again. By the time we reached the car, Mitchell had gone quiet, as though the fight had drained out of him.
Nick opened the car door with an abrupt motion. "What the fuck, man? What was that?"
Mitchell didn’t answer immediately. He turned away, his jaw clenched tight.
"Just let it go," June said quietly.
"No," Nick replied, stepping closer, his voice more clipped now. "We can’t just let that go. We can’t afford to attract that kind of attention."
Mitchell muttered under his breath, still avoiding looking at us. "I thought he knew something. He knows something. Amanda was definitely there. He lied to us."
"Maybe he did," Nick said, his tone cold but trying to stay rational. "Or maybe he really doesn’t remember seeing her.Maybe he wasn’t even working that day. Maybe she never went to that cemetery at all. But attacking the guy—that is the worst thing you could’ve done."
Mitch looked back at his sister. She sat in the back quietly, her lips pressed together. She knew he was in the wrong, and judging by her reaction back in the woods, it wasn’t the first time he’d lashed out. Mitchell had anger issues, and she was trying to keep a rein on him. Having realized that, a wave of post-action fear washed over me. June could’ve been hurt. Getting close to someone who was deeply angry was dangerous.
My heart went out to the siblings. For the first time in two years, I felt a sense of connection with people who understood my pain. We were bound by shared trauma, and the lack of closure only deepened the grief. I still had my mother, strained relationship or not. June and Mitch had no one else to turn to.
Even so, it didn’t excuse Mitch’s behavior. It would be sheer luck if Gideon didn’t report us to the police. And I was still angry at Mitchell for not mentioning Lucas. My boyfriend had been our primary link to this place, at least until we discovered Amanda had also come here.
The drive back to downtown was short and tense. I started fidgeting with my bracelet again, twisting it around my wrist to distract myself from the overwhelming urge to speak up and confront Mitch about everything I disagreed with. But I knew it was pointless, especially now. His shame was palpable.
June sat up straight and pressed her face against the window. "Wait, isn’t that the little boy?" Her words tumbled over each other. "From the cemetery? I just saw him walking into the church!"
"You’re right!" I leaned forward, gripping the door handle. "Pull over?"
The churchyard was a masterpiece,meticulously maintained with a flawless carpet of grass. Exquisite flower beds erupted with vibrant hues of velvety red roses and delicate pastel petunias.
A woman tending to an arrangement looked up. "Can I help you with somethin’?"
"We were just following—" June started, but Nick abruptly interrupted her, stepping forward.
"We were just passing through and saw how nice the church looked, so we thought we’d stop in. Who takes care of the grounds?"
I almost snorted at how unusual Nick sounded, being all polite. But it worked. The woman smiled graciously, deep-set wrinkles arranging themselves around her mouth and eyes.
"I take care of it myself. Been doin’ it for years." Her pride was as radiant as the roses she nurtured. "The Reverend helps out when he’s not busy. Nice man, the Reverend. Came to us from Richmond, you know."
I recalled something the cemetery caretaker had said about a preacher from Virginia who led the coven. Nick picked up on the same detail. He gave a small, deliberate nod of acknowledgment and leaned in slightly.
"Richmond, huh? We’re actually heading there next. Do you happen to know which parish he worked at before coming here?"
