Trent managed to get back home and get Mae and Gregg inside without too much trouble, physically, anyway.

Emotionally, it was exhausting and painful.

Hearing the woman he loved and her best friend, a good man, crying pitifully, miserably, just sobbing in the back of the car and knowing there was nothing he could really do to calm them...it was brutal. But he got them to the safety of his and Mae's and Ann's home, and once they were inside, he sat with Mae for awhile with Ann and Bea, while Angus sat with Gregg and held him. Their tears had mostly run their course by that point.

"We lied," was all Mae said on the subject.

No one seemed to want to argue that decision.

After awhile, she gently patted Trent's arm. "You should get going, get that car. We can't indulge in emotions for too long."

"It's not indulging," Trent replied, hugging her.

"You're sweet, but it is," she murmured, "there's a murder cult to deal with. I'll be okay. I will, I promise. I just...need a bit of time to gather my thoughts. Put my head back together. Go on, go get the car, okay?"

"If you're sure," he said, frowning.

"I'm sure, you and Bea, go on."

"All right. Call if anything comes up, anything at all," Bea said.

"I will."

"Come on, Trent."

They left and slipped back into Bea's car, with her letting him take the wheel. He noticed she kept looking at him as they started driving.

"What?" he asked.

"You've got the money, right?" she asked.

"I do...was that it? You keep looking at me."

"No, that isn't it. I'm...conflicted," she muttered. "I feel guilty."

"About what?"

"My thoughts. About you."

He laughed, surprised. "What? What could you possibly feel guilty about?"

"Well, for one, all this shit going on, and the main thing I want to do is take you upstairs to your bed and just fuck for an hour."

"We're dating, you're still relatively fresh in terms of sex, and it's been over a week since we've last had sex, let alone just seen each other. It's natural."

She sighed. "You're right. But the other thing...nevermind, forget it."

"No, tell me," he said.

"It's not...I don't want you to think I think badly of you."

"Just tell me, Bea. I won't be offended."

She sighed. "Fine. I'm...impressed, that you're holding up as well as you are. All this shit gets thrown your way, and now a murder cult that might be coming after us, and you're...I didn't think you'd be so...take-charge. Or handling it so well. I'm impressed, is all."

"I mean, I get it, honestly. I'm not very impressive-looking, or intimidating," he said.

"I still feel bad," Bea replied. "Also, I really missed you. Shit, so much is happening. All this nothing and then boom!"

He laughed. "I heard a quote from...no idea who. Probably some military leader. 'There are decades where nothing happens, and then weeks where decades happen'."

"Wow, that's...yeah. Pretty accurate. Shit." She sighed heavily. "How is Mae? I mean, really?"

"About how she looks," he replied. "Last night was terrifying. I've never seen her so panicked. She found the figurine. She screamed, at the top of her lungs. Like, horror movie scream. I almost had a fucking panic attack. But I think she's okay."

"Good...we have to keep an eye on her. She's prone to wandering off to deal with things on her own."

"I don't think she will. I made her promise not to, and I believed her when she did promise."

"That's good...uh, take the next left."

He did, and a few minutes later, they pulled onto the street in front of a medium-sized house. "So what's the deal here? Why are they selling it?"

"Their kid ran off, eloped. She's nineteen. Left her car. They're mad but I can tell they really aren't, they're just pretending," Bea explained as they got out.

"Why?"

"Because no one even questions it when you flee Possum Springs. This place sucks."

"I like it so far."

Bea offered a small smile. "You like us so far, Trent."

"Okay, fair."

They walked up to the front door and Bea knocked. A harried, middle-aged woman in a bathrobe answered the door.

"Oh, hello Bea. Is this about the car?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Wagner. This is the man that wants to buy the car," Bea replied.

"Trent Sinclair, pleased to meet you," Trent said.

She studied him, looking vaguely concerned. "Bill was your uncle, wasn't he?"

He nodded. "Great-uncle."

"I'm sorry he passed," she said, sounding more nervous. "Let me show you the car. It's in good condition."

"Thank you."

All of this now had a much worse edge to it. Exactly what kind of things had this cult gotten up to beyond murdering people? How had they wielded, or abused, their power? Was it just fear, rumors or whispers of certain powerful individuals, or was there some experience to back it up? He hoped not. She put on some boots and took the two of them around to the driveway, where a very red Jeep resided. It looked not too old, maybe a decade or so, and it looked good. Clean. Trent accepted the key from the woman and opened it up, poking around inside for several minutes. It actually looked great inside, too. Clean floor, clean seats, clean windows. No trash, no obvious damage anywhere. Just over a hundred thousand miles on the speedometer, but whatever. It sounded good when he started it up. Honestly, he thought he was getting this for a steal.

That sent a wave of unease through him.

"So, do you want it?" the woman asked. "I've already called Bernie up at the social building. He says he's good to make the transfer, I've already got the papers signed. He says you can just bring them up, I don't need to be there."

"All right," Trent replied, "I'll take it."

"Thank you," she said, guiding them back to the front porch. He waited, and it didn't take long for her to come back with an envelope with papers inside. He traded her ten hundred dollar bills for the papers and the key.

"Thanks," she murmured after looking at the money. "We appreciate it."

"Yeah."

"Well...goodbye," she said, and closed the door.

"Bye," Trent muttered. He looked at Bea. She looked uneasy as well. "I guess you should head back to my place."

"You sure you're okay to be alone?" Bea asked.

"I'll be fine. Go make sure Mae and Gregg are okay. It really fucked them up."

She sighed heavily. "Yeah, I knew it was coming. I didn't really know Casey, but they did, and so did Angus. God this whole thing sucks so fucking hard." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and then hesitated. "Would you think it shitty of me if I smoked still? I've been trying to quit but it's so fucking stressful and you can't just smoke weed in public…"

"I won't think anything of it, Bea. Just...do what you need to do to get through this. It's your business."

She laughed softly. "Thank you. A lot of people give me shit about...everything. What I wear, what I say, smoking. It's bullshit, but I'm so glad you don't." She gave him a long hug, then released him and lit up a cigarette. "Call me if anything looks shady."

"I will. I'm just going to hit the social admin building, get this shit taken care of, and then jet right back home," he replied.

She nodded. "I'll see you there...good luck."

"You too."

He wanted to kiss her, and he could tell she wanted to kiss him, but it was too public. So they simply parted ways and drove.

Trent kept expecting something to go wrong, but nothing did.

He was more paranoid than ever as he drove through the snowbound town. He kept imagining people were looking at him, and some of them might have been. He got to the social administration building and found a middle-aged man behind the counter this time. Bernie. He seemed amicable enough, but the conversation was uncomfortable.

"You Trent Sinclair?" he asked as Trent approached the counter.

"Yes, sir," Trent replied, setting the envelope down.

"Maddie phoned ahead about you. All I need to do is take a look at these, have you fill out a form, print something, and get your signature. And then the car is yours."

"I appreciate it," Trent said.

The man took the papers out of the envelope and studied them. After a moment, he made a quick scribble on them, passed Trent a clipboard with a few pieces of paper attached to it, and got up. Trent took it and began filling it out. More generic paperwork. It was easy, at least.

"How well did you know William? He didn't speak much of family, beyond a nephew that he liked, which must be you," Bernie asked.

"We talked on a monthly basis, letters," Trent replied. "I didn't know a great deal about him, but I've come to understand that he was pretty well-respected in town."

"Oh yes. He did a lot to help. Helped people get jobs, lobbied for a few law changes, probably could've gone on to have been mayor if he'd really have wanted to. Damn sorry to hear about his passing."

"So was I," Trent replied neutrally.

"Hopefully," the man said as he returned with a new sheet of paper in his hand, "you find yourself in a similar mindset. Possum Springs could always use more people pulling their weight."

Trent passed him the clipboard. "That's the goal."

"Good to hear."

He set the paper down and had Trent sign it, then typed something into his computer after studying the clipboard. "Okay, it's official. That car is legally yours."

"What's the titling fee?" he asked.

"Nothing, not for a Sinclair," Bernie replied with a conspiratorial smile. "Just pull your weight in Possum Springs and I'll be happy. You will still need to get insurance though."

"Thank you," Trent said, doing his best to maintain his poker face as he carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his inner coat pocket. "I'll get right on that."

"Have a good day."

"You too."

Trent felt more anxious and uncomfortable than ever as he pulled into his driveway. He'd just lied outright to that man, because if there was any truth to what the cult believed, that the town would wither and die without feeding the Black Goat, then he was planning on very directly causing the death of Possum Springs.

He locked the car and got out, glad to see Bea's car was here. He hadn't gotten any calls or texts on the way back. Walking up to the front door, he unlocked it and walked in. There were several sighs of relief as he appeared.

"I made it back," he said, "no problems. Although now I wonder about the guy up there. He said he knew my great-uncle and seemed very fond of him, and said he hopes to expect similar things from me."

"Great," Bea muttered.

"Okay, we have two cars now, Casey is put to rest...we need to decide on the next move," Mae said.

"There's one other thing I wanted to cover," Trent said as he sat down on the couch between Mae and Bea. "Possum Springs...if it's true, if the cult was right, and they really, truly were the only thing keeping this town going, then if we succeed, we'll almost certainly be killing the town. Not right away, I doubt it'll just blow up or everyone will drop dead or something, but...it will die. And probably sooner rather than later. A decade, not a century."

"It doesn't matter," Mae said. She was hugging herself tightly. "I don't even know how I feel about Possum Springs anymore. I love it, I hate it. I care less than I used to, a lot less, because I learned that home isn't a place, it's where you and the people you care about are. Home can be where you choose to make it. This doesn't have to be my home. It can be anywhere. But none of that really matters in this case. In this case, if it's all true, if the only way we keep Possum Springs alive is by killing some poor innocent once or twice a year...then it doesn't deserve to be kept alive. It isn't right. If Possum Springs dies, then it dies and we'll deal with the consequences. There are other places to go for all of us. I'll miss it, but I can't abide sacrifices. I can't. I won't."

"She's right," Angus said.

"Yeah...I'm not exactly eager to just let a whole town die, as much as I hate it, but feeding an old dark god is not the right answer," Bea agreed.

"Yep," Ann muttered, and Gregg was nodding.

"Glad that's settled then. So...what exactly is the plan?"