Chapter 3: Rituals and Hollow Secrets

My dad suddenly sat up, grabbed his gear, and motioned for me to follow. His face was solemn and respectful.

He didn’t say a word, just pointed to the door. I scrambled into my sneakers, heart pounding. I knew better than to ask questions when he got that look in his eye.

I knew—the real work for this con artist was just beginning.

He was in full “Professor Sterling” mode now—focused, intense, every movement calculated. I followed close behind, trying not to trip over my own feet.

Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I followed him to the bridge where Kyle disappeared. There, I saw Aunt Marsha was already waiting for us.

She was bundled up in a big coat, arms crossed, breath fogging in the chilly night air. She gave me a quick wink, but her face was serious. I’d never seen her look so tense.

My dad shone his flashlight, searching inch by inch. After about an hour, I could barely stifle my yawns. Suddenly, he dropped to the ground, grabbed a clump of dirt, and put it in his mouth. After a long time, he looked up, staring hard in one direction. Maybe it was the moonlight, but his gaze seemed almost savage.

The beam of the flashlight danced over the muddy ground, picking out tire tracks and scraps of paper. When my dad dropped to his knees and tasted the dirt, I nearly gasped out loud. He’d never done that before—not even in his wildest performances.

For a moment, I wondered if he’d finally lost it.

A chill ran through me—my sleepiness vanished.

The hair on my arms stood up. The world felt suddenly sharper, the night colder and more alive.

I held my breath, waiting for whatever came next.

Aunt Marsha was the first to speak. “Sterling, what is it?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid of waking something that shouldn’t be disturbed.

My dad didn’t answer. He frowned and shot back, “Marsha, did you hear anything on your end?”

His tone was sharper than usual, more urgent.

I could tell he was on edge, too.

Aunt Marsha looked frustrated. “Miller Hollow is really weird. When I was little, my cousin married into this place—I came once for her wedding. The whole town helped out, everyone was so down-to-earth and kind. Back then, this place was dirt poor. Not like now—look at that school, three stories tall, bigger than the one in town. They provide meals and dorms. I heard if you get good grades, they even give you money. Kids from all the nearby towns go to school here instead of in town.”

She hugged herself, eyes darting to the darkened houses. “It’s like the whole place changed overnight. The people, the money, even the way they look at strangers. I tried to ask around, but nobody would talk to me—barely even my cousin.”

“The hollow is rich now, but the people aren’t like they used to be. I tried to ask around, but as soon as the locals saw I wasn’t from here, they ignored me. When they saw me, it was like they’d seen a ghost.”

She shivered, rubbing her arms. “It’s like they’re hiding something. Like the whole town’s got a secret, and they’re scared you’ll find it.”

“I finally went to my cousin’s house and got some info about the Millers. But ask about anything else, and nobody would say a word—not even my cousin.”

She looked down, scuffing her boot against the dirt. “Sorry, Sterling. I did my best.”

Judging by her expression, this was probably the first time Aunt Marsha had failed to dig up dirt since she’d started working with my dad.

I’d never seen her so rattled. Usually, she could charm the truth out of anyone, but tonight, she just looked lost.

Everyone said Miller Hollow was rich, but the houses were still run-down, the roads still muddy, and people still relied on wild game and whatever they could forage, and on scrubby farmland—no better off than other towns.

Most houses didn’t even turn on their porch lights.

The only sign of wealth was the school, lit up like a Christmas tree. The rest of the hollow looked like it hadn’t changed in fifty years.

So, where was all the money?

I wondered if the stories about hidden fortunes and secret deals were true. Or maybe the wealth was just another illusion, like so many things in this town.

In the darkness, Miller Hollow was like a closed clam shell. Only the school in the distance shone with beautiful lights, dazzling and out of place.

The glow from the school windows seemed almost unnatural, casting long shadows across the empty streets.

It felt like the heart of the hollow was beating somewhere far away from the people who lived there.

My dad stared for a long time at the only bright spot in the hollow, his eyes glittering.

He didn’t say a word, but I could see the wheels turning in his head.

Whatever he was thinking, it was bigger than just finding a missing kid.

Finally, he turned to Aunt Marsha and said, “Marsha, this is life and death. Take what you need and help me find someone!”

His voice was low, urgent, full of something I’d never heard before—a kind of fear, maybe, or hope.

Aunt Marsha nodded, and I knew we were in deeper than ever before. The night pressed in around us, heavy with secrets. And for the first time, I wondered if my dad’s old tricks would be enough to see us through.