Chapter Ten #2
We tried asking a few more questions about Lucas’s whereabouts during his last visit, but his father struggled to recall much of it. He said everything seemed normal. Lucas spent time with family and caught up with friends before heading back to Minneapolis.
Disappointed, we didn’t want to tax their hospitality or stir any more sorrow and made our way out.
I felt weirdly hollow. I hadn’t expected to uncover any major revelations, but the complete absence of new leads was more frustrating than I’d anticipated.
Of course, I could still try to talk to Lucas’s friend, Duane, before wrapping up here and heading to my mother’s.
Thankfully, Mr. Whitman had Duane’s old residence and phone number scribbled in his address book.
"Used to pick Lucas up there when they were young’uns," he explained. "He’s probably still there. Didn’t leave like Lucas did. When his daddy passed on, he got the house."
He held open the door for us to exit. "I appreciate y’all tryin’ to do somethin’. We’re gettin’ on in years and have learned to accept what we can’t change."
"We’ll make sure to give you an update if we find something, sir," Mitchell said, his posture straight as a soldier.
"Bless you, son," Mr. Whitman replied, as he gave Mitchell a firm handshake and me a warm hug.
His wife didn’t come out to say goodbye, but I saw a curtain twitch as though she were watching.
"See, it wasn’t so bad," Mitchell said, starting the car and pulling away from the Whitmans’ house.
I gazed out the window, watching Mr. Whitman wave from the porch before settling back into his chair, picking up his unfinished figurine and carving knife.
Responding to Mitchell or pretending to stay calm felt like too much effort, so I remained quiet and tried to let it go.
It wasn’t his fault the Whitmans couldn’t tell us anything.
I was holding a piece of paper on which Lucas’s father had written Duane’s address.
"Shall we go, just the two of us?" I asked Mitchell.
He thought for a moment, then squinted like he was picturing something unpleasant and shook his head. "Nah, those two are going to go at each other if we leave them alone any longer, so I wouldn’t risk it."
But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Left to their own devices, Nick and June stood on the museum stairs, looking surprisingly relaxed and engaged.
June’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She looked overstimulated, as if she’d had too much caffeine, and immediately spilled her newfound information without even asking how things went with Lucas’s parents.
"This town is crazy! Did you know it was founded by a witch coven?"
I vaguely recalled Lucas mentioning something like that in the past.
"I thought this was a mining town," Mitchell queried.
"The city was founded by people who got kicked out of the original settlements," June said, brushing off his question. "They were accused of practicing magic or Satanism, or whatever."
The church, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, boasted its newly painted sides in pristine white, as if trying to wash away the dark past June had just mentioned.
Sunlight reflected off the church windows, casting a harsh glare in our direction, like a disapproving finger warning outsiders not to disturb the fragile balance of the place.
"So, everyone in town is a descendant of witches?" I muttered, still struggling to make sense of the information June had dumped on us.
"Not everyone," Nick corrected, his tone matter-of-fact. "Also, the coven died out a few decades after its founding."
June’s enthusiasm was palpable. "Yes, there was a massacre! Can you freaking believe it?"
Mitchell grew curious. "Was the entire museum about witchcraft?"
His sister launched into a detailed explanation, tripping over history as though it were trying to pull her back.
"No, there was still a lot of boring stuff about the settlers and migration routes or whatever. But the witchcraft was the only part that didn’t make me snore.
They worshipped the devil, and that’s how they stayed alive.
But then they had a fallout, fought over their grimoire, and that’s all. "
My mind reeled. It all seemed so irrelevant, yet my curiosity was piqued. "Kind of like the Salem witch trials?"
June dismissed the comparison. "Nah, they pretty much killed each other."
"The coven disappeared, and the town lived happily ever after," Nick wrapped up the conversation. "How about you? Any leads?"
"Oh yeah!" June finally remembered our absence. "What did you find out?"
"Not a lot," Mitchell responded for both of us. "But we got Lucas’s friend’s address. We should follow up on that and see if he knows anything."
"Are you sure he still lives here?" June asked skeptically.
"You’ll be surprised," Nick said, "not a lot of people leave towns like this one. Most stay forever."
But the hope of catching Duane that night was fading. No one answered his landline, and Lucas’s dad didn’t have a cell number for him, and it was getting too late to show up unannounced.
"Let’s pay him a visit tomorrow," Mitchell suggested. "It’s a Sunday, he’ll likely be at home."
"Do you think Amanda really came here?" June asked her brother.
"I don’t know, Junie. But we’ve come here to find her, so we’re staying till we figure something out."
Mitchell gave June a gentle pat on the back, and although she was always so prickly, she didn’t push his hand away. It was the first time he called her ‘Junie’ in front of us as well.
I didn’t have any siblings, but at that moment, I regretted being an only child. Having an older brother must be nice. I caught Nick looking at me, probably thinking the same.
Just then, the museum’s front door creaked open on its own, the sound resounding like a groan through the square. The sudden noise made me flinch. We all turned, but it slammed shut just as quickly.
I felt a light pressure on my back. It was Nick trying to console me.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned. "You seem a little on edge."
I gave a subtle shrug, and he guided me away from the square, following the siblings, who were walking ahead towards the car.
"This town gives me the creeps," I confessed.
"Every town has a dark story. This one just happens to be about witchcraft and mass deaths."
A thunderstorm was brewing. The sky rumbled like an upset stomach. Nick and I sat on a small hotel balcony, gazing aimlessly at the greenery, unable to leave each other’s sight—Mitchell’s orders. He and June had gone to pick up some food, and the buddy system ensured that no one was alone.
The food we had at the resort earlier was appalling.
Every dish was drenched in a sickly, greasy sheen, the meat was tough and dubious, and even the humblest comfort food, mac and cheese, had been transformed into a rubbery, carb-loaded monstrosity.
With no other options, Mitchell and June ventured out to find something—anything! —better.
"May I ask a personal question?" Nick lifted his eyes to mine.
I put my phone down, already on alert. "Shoot."
"You holding up?"
I snorted, more out of reflex than humor. That was the personal question?
"Did you look me up?" I asked, cutting straight through it, though I knew the answer. The way he asked, the way he looked at me, it wasn’t just curiosity.
"Yeah," he said without blinking. "Wanted to know who I was working with."
He gave a small smile, softening the joke, but I didn’t return it.
"Then you know enough."
"Not really. Headlines don’t tell the whole story."
"And I’m not about to fill in the blanks. Sorry."
He nodded like he expected that. "Fair."
There was a pause, just long enough to make it feel like something was shifting.
"It won’t suck forever," he said, "No one here thinks anything bad of you. Even June."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, she’s the first."
"No, she isn’t."
"Oh yeah? Who else thinks I’m not a serial killer?"
"Sergeant Mitch, for sure." That elicited a laugh from me. Then, with a hint of a smile, he added, "Me."
I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to reassure me. I wasn’t looking for comfort. I just didn’t know what to do with it. But something in me loosened. His words weren’t anything special, but they landed. For the first time in a while, I felt a sense of safety.
He continued after a pause. "Lucas liked you, too, I think. He’d have been a fool not to."
"What makes you say that?"
He hesitated, clearly having revealed more than he intended. "I’m trying to say that even if a fraction of whatever’s on the internet is true, you deserve better."
"Don’t," I warned. I wasn’t sure if he was hinting at Lucas’s cheating or our fights, but I had no intention of discussing it with him, and I certainly wasn’t seeking his validation.
"Sorry."
We sat in silence, our conversation still continuing in my head.
"I loved him," I said abruptly, speaking of Lucas in the past tense for the first time.
Regardless of his whereabouts, a two-year absence was a long time for feelings to last.
Nick was quiet, waiting for me to continue, but I didn’t say anything else. The truth was, when Lucas vanished, a part of me disappeared, too.