Chapter Thirteen #2
The caretaker shrugged. "We’re a quiet town, mostly. Been that way for a spell now."
Mitch flipped out his phone. "Truth is, we’re here on business. I’m looking for my sister; she’s been missing since last year. Mind taking a look?"
"Sure thing." Gideon scooched closer with a hint of curiosity.
I pulled out my phone, too, ready to show him a photo of Lucas.
It hadn’t escaped my notice that Mitchell conveniently forgot to mention him.
I shivered as I waited, a strange sense of déjà vu slipping over me like a ghost’s embrace.
I’d done this so many times before with little progress.
It was starting to feel surreal. I’d looked at Lucas’s pictures more in the past few days than I had in the last six months.
But the more I stared at that once familiar face, that boyish smile, the more he felt like a stranger.
Somehow, my memories of him no longer matched the person in the photos.
The caretaker shook his head at Amanda’s picture, then pointed at my phone. "I know him—the Whitman boy! He’s over there!" He gestured to the West of the graveyard.
I stumbled, the ground unsteady beneath me. "What do you mean he’s over there?"
"His grave is over there. Want to see?"
I rushed towards the location, without waiting. By the time the others caught up, I was already standing before a plain stone plaque with Lucas’s name and the engraving "Forever in our hearts, our dear son".
"This can’t be right," Mitch said, stunned.
"There’s a fucking date!" I almost yelled, my voice shaking. "Oh my god, it’s empty. It must be empty, right? Why did they do this?"
The shock short-circuited me. My feet were lead, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the gleaming tombstone.
Everything was foggy and far away, as if the world were moving in slow motion.
There had to be some mistake. Lucas was missing, not dead.
Nick’s hand brushed my elbow gently, but I stayed numb.
"Okay, let’s get out of here." Nick turned me away from the grave. I followed without resistance. It felt like all energy was suddenly sucked out of me, leaving me hollow and limp.
"Hey! I see you!" Gideon’s angry shout slashed the air like a scythe.
We caught a glimpse of a small figure darting between the gravestones before getting lost in the bushes.
"Little dirtbag," the caretaker muttered. "Steals from the dead, for cryin’ out loud."
"Why do you care?" June asked. "You throw it out anyway."
The caretaker licked his mouth again, tipped his hat and walked away, returning to his duties.
We started making our way out, but I kept looking back at Lucas’s grave.
Nick, walking ahead on the narrow pathways, turned back occasionally, as if to check I hadn’t sprinted back and thrown myself, sobbing, on the grass.
Mitchell and June, however, seemed to have already moved on, their attention diverted from the matter at hand.
"Come check this out!" June exclaimed.
We approached and saw that it read "Boyd."
"Isn’t that your last name?" she asked Nick.
"It’s a pretty common name," Nick explained. "My mom was from around here, so our family probably goes way back."
"Maybe you’re a witch descendant," June suggested with a hint of excitement.
"Maybe," Nick replied deadpan. He turned to me. "You okay?"
Surprisingly, I felt better. The panic and despair had subsided, thanks to June’s unintentional distraction. I’d heard Lucas’s father refer to him as if he were dead, but seeing the grave was overwhelming.
"Why doesn’t your mom have the same last name?" I asked Nick.
"She changed it. Said it made her sound more mysterious."
"Can we move on to something that actually matters?" Mitchell asked abruptly.
I wasn’t sure why he was in such a bad mood, especially since it wasn’t Amanda’s grave we found. Maybe cemeteries made him uneasy. Or perhaps something else was bothering him, something he hadn’t said out loud.
The cemetery bordered the woods. I turned toward the parking lot, eager to leave, but Nick changed direction, heading straight for the trees without a word.
"Where are you going?" I called after him.
"The boy went over there," Nick pointed to a parting in the trees.
I hesitated while Nick moved away and through the tall grass.
"So what?" Mitchell shouted. "Let’s just go. There’s nothing here."
"There must be something that interested him," Nick replied without looking back or slowing down. "We should at least check it out."
June rolled her eyes, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed him.
Her brother tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away.
Nick’s sudden determination to follow the kid was baffling, but there wasn’t much else to do except go along and hope no one called the police on us for chasing after a little boy.
"If I step on a snake, I’m going to kill you!" June hissed.
I assumed she meant Nick, not me.
Mitchell let out an audible sigh and trailed behind, bringing up the rear, his reluctance obvious. He didn’t care for Nick, but he wasn’t about to let his sister go unsupervised.
"Are you sure you saw him here?" I asked.
I was growing increasingly anxious that we’d become lost as we traipsed deeper into the growth.
Nick finally stopped and looked around. We clustered behind him, waiting to see what he’d do next.
"Maybe we should turn back," June said, brushing spiderwebs from her face.
Nick ignored her and pushed through the bushes. A moment later, he called us over. There it was—a massive stone, moss-covered and half-buried beneath the leaves. Scattered on top were bracelets, rings, and a neat pile of photographs, just like the offerings we’d seen on the graves.
"How on earth did you know it was here?" I gasped.
Nick looked just as shocked. "I didn’t. I just wanted to see what he was doing there."
"So he steals them and brings them out here? But why?" June’s fingers hovered above the objects.
"Don’t touch anything!" Mitch pulled her back, grip firm.
"What’s wrong, scared it’s cursed or something?"
"No, we just have no idea what it is," her brother replied gravely. "Don’t leave your fingerprints on it."
"We should at least check if there’s anything useful to us," June insisted, meaning Amanda.
Mitch’s response was flat. "At this point, I doubt we’ll find anything useful."
He demonstratively stepped back, fixing his gaze on the surrounding trees with exaggerated interest, as if they were far more fascinating.
To say I was annoyed was an understatement. Even though everything at this cemetery and around it pointed to Lucas, somehow, we still focused solely on Amanda. It seemed my loss mattered less because I was one, and June and Mitchell were two.
I carefully picked up the photographs, damp from the rain.
Some were still in decent condition, especially those that weren’t on top.
Heartfelt messages on the backs of some of them flickered in the dim light.
And then I saw it. A photo of Lucas with Duane, similar to the one I’d seen at Lucas’s parents’ house.
It was likely taken on the same trip, but with a different camera. The back read: "Sorry."
My heart, as if frozen until now, lurched to life with a jolting, painful beat as I came to realize what I was holding in my hands.
The handwriting on the photo wasn’t Lucas’s, which left only one other person who could have written this.
"We have to go back and talk to Duane," I said.