Cypress Hallow-Part 3-
She made it three miles before she saw Delfina’s car pulled off on the shoulder ahead, hazard lights blinking.
Judith’s first instinct was to keep driving, but Delfina was standing outside her vehicle, waving her down with frantic gestures, and something about the desperation in her movements made Judith ease off the gas. She pulled over behind Delfina’s rusted Civic, leaving the engine running.
Delfina was at her window before she could decide whether to roll it down.
“Please.” Delfina’s voice was muffled through the glass, her face pale and slick with sweat. “Please, just—five minutes. Away from the road.“
Judith looked past her at the empty highway, the wall of cypress trees pressing in on both sides. The swamp was visible through the gaps in the foliage, dark water reflecting the white sky. Everything felt too exposed and too enclosed at once.
“Fin—”
“Please.”
There was something in her eyes that made Judith turn off the engine. She got out, and Delfina immediately grabbed her arm, pulling her toward a narrow dirt path that led into the trees. Judith resisted for a moment, every instinct screaming not to go into the woods with someone this frightened, but Delfina’s grip was iron.
“Not on the road,“ Delfina whispered. “They watch the road.“
They pushed through palmetto and Spanish moss until the highway disappeared behind them. The air was thick here, humid and buzzing with insects. The ground squelched beneath their feet, and Judith could smell the swamp—that rotting vegetable stench mixed with something chemical and old. Delfina finally stopped in a small clearing where a fallen cypress created a natural barrier, and she turned to face Judith with tears streaming down her face.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,“ Delfina said, her voice breaking. “God help me, I shouldn’t—but you were my friend. You were my friend, and I can’t just let you walk back into that house without—“ She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking.
“Fin, what’s going on?“
“Your family.“ Delfina’s hands dropped, and her eyes were red-rimmed and wild. “Your family has a problem, Judith. Something that’s been passed down. Something that doesn’t stop.“
The heat pressed down on them like a physical weight. Sweat trickled down Judith’s spine.
“What are you talking about?“
“The disappearances.“ Delfina’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper, as if the trees themselves might be listening. “It’s not just that boy. Daniel Cooper. It’s been happening for decades. Longer. People passing through. Hitchhikers. Drifters. Sometimes locals who ask too many questions or get too close to—“ She stopped herself, shaking her head violently. “Every few years. Sometimes more often, and it’s always the same. They’re seen with a Cray. Then they’re gone.“
Judith’s mouth went dry. “That’s—that’s insane. You’re saying my family—“
“I’m saying what everyone in this town knows but won’t say out loud.“ Delfina’s voice was fierce now, desperate. “We’ve all agreed not to see it. Not to talk about it. Because the people who do talk about it—“ Her voice cracked. “Sarah Guidry asked questions back in ‘98. She was writing a story for some paper in Baton Rouge about missing persons in the parish. She came to the diner, started interviewing people. Three weeks later, they found her car in the swamp. Empty. They said she must have gotten lost, wandered off the road, but we all knew.“
“Jesus Christ—“
“Marcus Thibodeaux. He was a deputy, tried to investigate your grandfather back in the eighties. He disappeared on a routine patrol. They found his cruiser near your property line.“ Delfina was speaking faster now, the words tumbling out like she’d been holding them in for years. “And before that, there were others. Going back to your great-grandfather’s time. Maybe further. The town knows, Judith. We’ve always known. But the Crays—your family is protected. By the church, by people in power, by something I don’t understand and don’t want to.“
The clearing felt suddenly smaller, the trees pressing in. Judith could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.
“Why are you telling me this?“
“Because you’re going to go digging.“ Delfina’s laugh was bitter and broken. “I know you. You were always the one who had to know, had to understand. And I’m telling you—begging you—don’t. Get in your car and drive back to where you came from and don’t look back. Don’t ask Logan questions. Don’t go through your mother’s things. Don’t—“ Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t go in the basement.“
“How do you know about the basement?“
Delfina’s face crumpled. “I’ve known since we were kids. Since we were twelve, Judith. You remember that summer? When we were going to have a sleepover at your house, and your mama said no, said you had to come to mine instead? You were so upset, but I was relieved. Because my mama had pulled me aside that morning and told me never, ever to stay overnight at the Cray house. Never to go in the basement. Never to be there after dark.“ She wiped at her eyes with shaking hands. “And when I asked why, she just said, ‘Some families have a sickness that runs in the blood.’”
The words hung in the thick air between them. In the distance, something splashed in the swamp—something large.
“This is insane,“ Judith said, but her voice sounded hollow even to herself. “You’re talking about—what? Serial killers? A family of murderers? And the whole town just... knows? Just lets it happen?“
“It’s not about letting it happen.“ Delfina’s voice was barely audible now. “It’s about survival. The Crays have been here longer than anyone. They have roots that go deep—into the church, into the land itself, and people who cross them...“ She shook her head. “I have two kids, Judith. I have a husband. I can’t—I won’t—be the next person who asks too many questions.“
“Then why tell me anything at all?“
“Because you’re already in it.“ Delfina’s eyes were desperate. “The moment you came back, you were in it, and maybe—God, maybe if you know enough to be scared, you’ll run. You’ll save yourself.“
But they both knew that wasn’t true. Judith could see it in Delfina’s face—the resignation, the grief. She was saying goodbye.
“I have to go,“ Delfina whispered. “I’ve already been here too long. If anyone saw me pull over—“ She grabbed Judith’s hands, squeezed them hard. “Please. Please just leave. Tonight. Don’t even go back to the house. Just drive.“
She turned and pushed back through the palmetto, moving fast, and within seconds she was gone. Judith stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by the sounds of the swamp—the buzz of insects, the distant calls of birds, the wet breathing of the land itself.
She looked down at her hands and saw they were shaking.
When she made it back to her car, Delfina was already gone, just tire tracks in the soft shoulder and the fading smell of exhaust. Judith sat behind the wheel for a long time, staring at the wall of trees, at the darkness between them where the swamp waited.
“Some families have a sickness that runs in the blood.”
She started the engine and pulled back onto the highway, but she didn’t turn around. She drove toward the homestead, toward Logan and her mother and whatever was waiting in that basement.
Because Delfina was right about one thing, Judith had always been the one who needed to know.
Even if the knowing destroyed her.
