Page 80 of Into the Dark, We Go
Chapter Twenty-Three
September, 2020
"The boy is alive,"Mitch announced from the doorway.
We tried calling the siblings after getting the text, but neither of them answered. Nick and I were left guessing and anxiously waiting for their return.
Mitch rubbed his eyes and sank into the chair. June dropped her bag on the floor and leaned against the wall, spent after too many hours in a car, her blonde hair a mess.
Assuming they’d be hungry, I’d made more cold turkey sandwiches and kept them in the fridge. Now I was glad I had. The siblings immediately dug in, though June first inspected her sandwich with meticulous care, plucking out the tomato slices and giving me a dirty look. I forgot she didn’t like them, apparently because the skins were ‘too yucky.’
"We spoke to a few people at the parish," her brother said. "Word is, the Reverend got the boot for betting with church money."
"What?"
"They wanted to keep it quiet, so he packed up and moved to Black Water."
I was still trying to make sense of it all. "But what does that have to do with Sammy?" I asked.
Mitch took another bite of his sandwich. We impatiently waited for him to chew and swallow. "From what we were told, the Reverend showed up two days ago with Sammy. Said the kid was in danger. He thought it had something to do with Sammy’s family. Claimed he had the paperwork ready. Everything looked official enough."
"This is strange," I said. "Did he kidnap the boy to keep us from talking to him, or was he protecting him from someone else?"
"No idea," June said, then added knowingly, "but the woman at the parish said the Reverend begged them to take Sammy in."
"How did you get them to tell you all that?" Nick asked.
Mitch tapped a finger against the table, faintly smug. "We told them the Reverend sent us to check in on Sammy. You’d be surprised how much people like to talk in a small church like that."
Something still didn’t add up.
"If the Reverend was hiding Sammy to keep someone else from finding him," I said, more thinking out loud, "then why would he kill Duane?"
"Can’t be sure he did," Mitch said, reaching for his second sandwich.
"But he painted over the symbols in Duane’s house."
"I hate to say it," Mitch said around a mouthful of bread, "but perhaps it wasn’t the Reverend."
Nick continued, "Or maybe the Reverend knew what was going on and was trying to beat whoever it was to the kid."
"So you think it’s the Sheriff?" June asked.
"That’s our most likely lead," her brother responded, still chewing, the words coming out a bit garbled. He’d long since given up trying to swallow whenever it was his cue to talk.
"Richmond isn’t far," I said, half to myself. "We followed the Reverend’s trail easily enough. What if someone else does too?"
"I doubt that," Nick said. "We knew what we were looking for. Whoever else is out there might not even be after Sammy, let alone know what that boy’s uncovered. My guess is it’s just a precaution."
"Did you get a chance to talk to him? To Sammy?" I asked.
Mitch shook his head. "No. They got pretty hinky when we started asking questions, so we figured it was time to bail."
I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since Sammy disappeared. But now, the pressure eased from my chest. We hadn’t gotten the boy killed with our digging. He was alive, though taken from his family. But after his stories, maybe this was for the best, too.
Now, it was our turn to share the information. I told them about the Facebook group.
"I sent a request to join," I said, expecting at least some recognition.
