The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(63)

The word cult caught Janine off-guard, even after hearing Donna’s story. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Leif chimed in. “They were wearing light blue robes, and they—”

“Don,” Janine interrupted. “Were they wearing robes when they…?”

“No,” Donna said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” Janine hoped these kids weren’t adding fantastical details just for the hell of it. “So what happened at this ritual?”

“Whitewood cut some woman’s hand,” Leif said, getting more into it, “and then the water lit up this weird blue.”

“I remember that,” Donna said.

“The water…lit up?” Janine asked.

Donna nodded.

“Wow. All right.”

“Yeah, and then Whitewood walked into the water,” Rex said, “and stayed under there for, like, a long time. Not even sure how he did it. Probably some kind of breathing tubes or something.”

Janine’s skepticism was kicking into overdrive as the details grew more sensational, but watching Donna as she absorbed the boys’ story was enough to keep her disbelief suspended.

“I’ve been thinking about what to do next,” Rex said. “We should probably tell Sheriff Lawson, right? Because this is huge. He’s the one over there talking to Alicia’s parents. We could pull him aside and—”

“Can’t do that,” Janine said. “We need to be incredibly careful.” She saw the confusion on Rex’s and Leif’s faces, the inability to process the idea that being careful would mean not going to the police, but she didn’t want to explain the entire situation with Donna’s father to them. Not here, anyway. “I think the best thing for us to—”

“I think the best thing for y’all to do is to head on out,” a deep voice said. They turned to see Leggett Shackelford in his black suit and mammoth mustache framing the same unwavering smile as Mary Hattaway’s. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, but this place is full of grieving folks, and I believe you’ve already made enough of a scene today,” the big man said, locking eyes with Rex before turning to Janine.

“Hi, I’m Leggett Shackelford,” he said, extending a large paw for Janine to shake, “and this is my funeral home.” She tried not to noticeably freak out when she saw a raised scar along his palm.

“So nice to meet you,” she said, with zero warmth in her voice as she shook his hand.

“I’d love to say the same, but I’ve heard about the unfortunate movie you’re makin’. Big Gary told me he’s still missing three stones. Such a shame.” He spoke with an unnatural congeniality, that sappiness the people of Bleak Creek so often adopted when ripping you a new one. “And now, to show up at this young woman’s funeral, after all you’ve done to upset people here? Seems pretty impolite, if you ask me.”

“Well, nobody’s asking you,” Janine said, unwilling to play his game of fake friendliness. “Though I could, if you’d be down to be interviewed for my documentary.”

Leggett held his grin in silence, surprised that a young woman would talk to him that way.

“Okay, ma’am, I think we’re done here,” he finally said. “Now, if y’all could make your way home I’d appreciate it.”

“Gladly,” Janine said, giving a quick nod to Donna, Leif, and Rex before making a beeline for the exit, hoping they would follow.

Once she was outside, she saw that Donna and Rex had followed, but Leif had reconnected with his mom. Rex’s parents were walking out the door, so she tried to speak fast.

“You need to take us to that spring.”





18


AS REX AND Leif led Janine and Donna through the darkness—Janine with a camera bag slung over her shoulder and Donna holding a tripod duct-taped to a long aluminum pole—both boys were silent. This was partly because they were once again sneaking onto the Whitewood School property, but mostly because, other than a perfunctory phone call about logistics, they hadn’t spoken since the funeral.

Rex still felt betrayed by Leif for keeping his crush to himself all summer, while Leif was still fuming at Rex, not only for upstaging his confession, but for putting their lives in danger by publicly accusing Whitewood of being a murderer. Leif didn’t even want to come back to the spring, but as was the case with most everything that had happened in the past couple weeks, he was doing it for Alicia.

As they reached the tobacco barn, a familiar hoot came from the trees.

Rex had taken a solo trip to the Tree earlier that day, letting Ben know that Janine wanted to film the spring for her documentary about the school, that her cousin was a Whitewood alumna who had nearly drowned there. “I love this idea,” Ben had said while munching on the MoonPie Rex brought him. “But I’ll sit this one out—no amount of camo will protect me if I’m that close to the school. Let me know when you’re going, though. I’ll stay in a tree. Be your watchman.”

Rex now returned Ben’s all-clear hoot with a hoot of his own, which sounded less like an owl and more like a sick horse. “All right, we’re good,” he said, finding the cut part of the fence and holding it open. “Once we’re all through, we’ll find the two-trunked tree from before and regroup there.” He gestured toward Janine and Donna. “Ladies first.”