Chapter Nine
June was supposed to 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.
"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 turned out 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.
"We’re gonna pair up," Mitch continued. "Two teams of two. You’re responsible for your partner’s back, and they’ve got yours. Nobody gets left behind and nobody’s left standing around with nothing to do."
That’s how I became June’s buddy.
"Why can’t I be your buddy?" June complained to her brother.
"Because you and Nell are rooming together," Mitch explained with extreme patience. "I want you two to be glued at the hip. Whether you’re grabbing a soda or taking a walk, you go together. Nick and I will do the same. We’ll swap partners if needed, but nobody goes solo. Period."
"Even to the bathroom?" June muttered, but Mitchell had already moved on.
"It’s about staying safe, staying alert, and keeping each other in the loop if things go sideways. You got that?"
June leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and let out an exaggerated sigh, a perfect picture of teenage discontent.
"Okay, everyone dismissed. I mean, that’s it. Any questions?" Mitchell concluded, spreading his hands.
Nick shot me a quick look, but I chose to ignore it.
Perhaps Mitch was laying it on a bit thick with the military jargon, but everything he said made sense to me.
Plus, he was the only one with tactical and combat experience, so I wasn’t overly concerned about his presentation style.
In fact, it was a little thrilling, like we were part of an interactive game where we played as soldiers on a mission.
The next step was emotionally daunting, at least for me. With only one lead to pursue, we decided to act quickly and visit Lucas’s parents, not wanting to waste any time.
After some pouting on June’s part, it was decided that Mitchell and I would meet with the Whitmans alone, acting as advocates for Lucas and Amanda, while June and Nick explored downtown to gather whatever insights they could.
"You keep a close eye on her," Mitch told Nick. He’d pulled him to one side, a slither of space gasping between their chests. His expression said, If anything happens to her, you’ll answer to me.
Despite Mitch’s concern, I wasn’t worried for them. Nick’s intimidating height, combined with June’s graphic Hellraiser T-shirt and unfriendly face, made them a formidable pair few would dare approach.