“I'm a member,” he shrugs. “So was your grandfather and your great-grandfather.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head. My brain feels as if it's rejecting the words, it just won't accept them and let them fully process so I can understand what he's saying.
“I don't understand,” I say. “How could you be a member? I’d never even heard of it before I came here.”
“As I said, Emma, it's a secret society. It's not something the members talk about. The men in my family have a tradition of joining. We join at eighteen,” he says. He looks over at Dean. “J—your father was in it with me.”
I feel as if I'm going to be sick. My stomach surges, and my throat tightens up. I look over at Dean. His face is like a stone.
“Who did you kill?” Xavier asks.
I have to give it to him. He's able to put a voice to things I can't claw out of the corners of my brain.
Dad looks at him with surprise.
“I didn't kill anybody,” he says.
“I suppose that's what they all say,” Xavier says. “That is the point, isn't it? To kill and make sure somebody else takes the blame for it?”
“No,” Dad says. “I didn't kill anyone. I belong to a different chapter of The Order. That's what I've been trying to tell you. This chapter in Harlan isn't like the others. This chapter has gone rogue. But the problem is, the ties of brotherhood are tight. Loyalty runs deep. It’ll be next to impossible to get people to talk.”
“Even if they know something horrible is happening?” I ask.
“Most likely, they don't talk to other chapters about what they do. And if they do talk about it, it's to people they know or have the same mind. The Order operates in individual chapters, but we don't monitor or govern each other. Something poisoned this chapter and twisted it into something The Order doesn't stand for. But anything that happens is protected by secrets and oaths. Just like anything else that happens within The Order, they aren't going to talk about the murders. They've become ritual just like everything else. They're part of how these people operate, and they don't differentiate them from any other element of The Order.”
“So, what you're telling me is I'm never going to be able to prove it. Every one of them is just going to back each other up, and I'm never going to be able to prove the truth,” I say.
“Not necessarily,” he replies. “It will be difficult. I'm not going to lie about that. You just have to find a way to prove it without relying on one of them to tell you.”
My brain is so saturated with thoughts and questions, I barely even notice when the doctor comes in and asks everybody to step out so he can check my sutures. I expect him to discharge me so I can get back to work. Instead, he tells me exactly what he feared has happened.
“We tried to clean the cut as thoroughly as possible, but that doesn't always work. There are now signs of infection,” he says.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Because of the size of the cut and the potential for the infection to get very serious, very quickly, you're going to have to stay here for another night so we can administer antibiotics.”
“Can't I just fill them at the pharmacy?” I ask.
“It's not that easy,” he says. “In order to effectively combat the infection and ensure it does not worsen into a very serious condition, the antibiotic needs to be administered through your IV. If you respond well, you'll be able to be discharged tomorrow afternoon.”
He starts to leave, then hesitates. “While you're here, you really should try to relax. Your stress levels are extremely high. Getting some rest will help your body recover and recuperate.”
I can't rest. Even after he leaves, I can't make my mind or my body fully relax. I'm awake late into the night and have only just drifted off to sleep when my room door opens.
I open my eyes just enough to see Xavier slip inside and walk over to the couch.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“I'm sorry,” he says. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”
“It's fine,” I say. “Are you here alone? Where's Dean?”
“He's down in the cafeteria,” Xavier says. “I wanted to return the favor. You always came to see me. So now I'm coming to see you.”
I pull myself up to sit a little straighter and manage a smile.
“I think it's a little different,” I say.
He nods seriously. “You're right. It is. They never had me hooked up to anything.”
I look over at the IV and the fluids still dripping down into my vein.
“That's true,” I chuckle weakly.
He sits down on the couch and stares into the space in front of him. His hands are folded in his lap, and he doesn't move for several long seconds.
"Something on your mind?" I ask.
"When a farmer sows seeds, he does it the same way every time. He scatters grass seed for the fields to feed livestock or for wildflowers. He builds mounds for pumpkins. He digs deep trenches for corn. Everything is done the same way. He doesn't suddenly start scattering pumpkins or digging trenches for wildflowers."
"Right," I say.
"Those bones in the cornfield were all treated the same. Except for Lakyn and the cage. But even she was left out on the ground. They were scattered."
"Yes."
"So, if that's the way that farmer sows his crops, he always scatters, why did he suddenly dig a trench?"
That's why he's staring into the distance. He's not here with me. Xavier is back in the cornfield, looking at the grave. He's fixated on it, drawn to it for some reason, and he can't let go.
"Maybe it's a different kind of crop?" I
