"Let’s dial it down a notch, Sergeant," he said, his calm tone making Mitchell’s nostrils flare more. I couldn’t tell if Nick was trying to diffuse the situation or poke the bear. "We can focus on the boy for today and see if we can get anything useful out of him."
"So, your big plan is to keep running after some kid?"
Nick’s demeanor didn’t waver for a second. "How about this? Take your sister and head downtown. Nellie and I will recheck the cemetery. If that doesn’t work, we’ll think about what to do next."
June’s wide eyes met mine, and it was clear we were thinking the same thing: Mitchell was dangerously close to losing control again. Without warning, he slammed his open palm onto the table. The impact made the utensils jump and clatter.
"Fine," he barked, standing abruptly. "Let’s just hurry the hell up."
We dropped the siblings downtown. June wasn’t happy about being left alone with her brother, but there was no way in hell he was letting her out of his sight. Surprisingly, she stayed quiet—probably because Mitchell’s last outburst was still fresh in her mind.
I’d hoped that after our conversation, he might reflect on his attitude. But one talk was never enough to change someone. If it were, therapists would be out of work.
At least June was safe with him. Of that, I had no doubt.
"You don’t haveto go in if you don’t want to. I can go alone."
Nick and I were headed to the cemetery, but my mind kept drifting back to Mitch, wondering if it was even worth staying, knowing he could snap at any moment. It took me a second to realize Nick was referring to seeing Lucas’s grave again.
"I’m okay," I reassured him. "Thanks, though."
My brain was foggy and heavy, soaked with random ideas like a wet sponge. I longed for the moment when these disparate pieces would conflate into something meaningful.
"Penny for your thoughts." Nick glanced at me, one elbow resting on the doorframe. I tried not to get distracted by the trail of ink that looped around his wrist and under his sleeve. I hadn’t had a chance to admire any of them.
I offered a weary smile, slightly ashamed by my aloofness. "It’s nothing. Just trying to make sense of it all."
"Any ideas?"
"Apart from your cult theory? Not really. I mean, I can come up with a dozen conspiracy theories, but they’re based on nothing."
"Humor me."
"Okay," I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts. "Human trafficking ring, organ harvesting, geographic anomaly, the military conducting experiments on humans, UFOs. Or, like you said," I waved a hand through the air, "a weird cult recruiting members."
A hint of a grin played on Nick’s lips. "You’ve really given it some thought, huh?"
"This trip has been very stimulating. But why do you think it’s a cult?"
"Well, the symbols, first. Then, I think Sammy was onto something. I know Sergeant Mitch wants to dismiss it," he sneered the word "Sergeant" with mock emphasis, "but the boy must’ve stumbled onto some kind of ritual and tried to copy it."
"Doesn’t it seem odd that the Reverend is mixed up in this? I mean, he’s supposed to be a spiritual leader and all."
"Why not? Christianity is a blood cult if you really think about it."
"How so?"
"Their faith revolves around death. Fearing it. Longing for a good afterlife. Add consuming the flesh and blood of Christ. The rituals, the sacrifice. It all adds up."
"Did you share this with Mitch?" I asked.
"No."
"Why not?" I continued, pulling into the parking lot. The cemetery had been empty the last time we visited, but now, there was a single car parked in a far corner.
"He won’t listen to me."
I parked farther away from the only other car, a habitual caution, and reached for the door handle, but Nick grabbed my arm. "Stay inside." He motioned to the other vehicle. "The Reverend’s here."