Chapter 6
Boone
Isit up straighter as soon as I hear the soft knock on the door.
It’s not often that I’m surprised, but seeing Harlyn Wade for the first time gave me a hell of a shock.
I’d reviewed the notes on her sister’s case last night after Michele provided me with what her team had.
I’d even gone a little deeper to see what I could find through my channels, but nothing prepared me for my reaction to her.
The resemblance to her sister can’t be ignored, though it would have been easy to dismiss had I not seen so many photos of Hayzel while she was alive and well.
It seems they shared the same heart-shaped face and striking light eyes, but the differences between them are just as obvious, or at the very least they are now.
The photos of Hayzel showed a thin young woman with chestnut-colored hair and an easy smile.
Harlyn’s look is edgier, and most of her hair is nearly black, yet the top left quarter is as white as snow.
When she turned to give Michele a small wave, I saw some matching light locks peeking out from underneath her softly curled dark hair at the nape of her neck.
The moment my gaze starts to drop to take in her curvy figure, I avert my eyes to the wall beside her.
I need to focus on the reason we’re both here, but that has nothing to do with why I can’t take my eyes off her.
The room is quiet enough that I hear her breathy exhale after the door closes.
The fingers of her left hand twitch, drawing my attention.
I note the rings stacked on her fingers, especially the delicate-looking band with a large stone that seems to indicate she’s married on her ring finger, though she’s here alone for the interview.
“Hey, Harlyn, please have a seat.” Macey invites her over to the intimate living room like setting in the middle of the expansive space.
It reminds me of something from a TV show—overly exaggerated.
There are layered rugs in dark, muted colors under our feet and scarf-covered lamps stationed around the seating area, leaving the rest of the room rather dark and moody beyond the dim light.
If I hadn’t visited the sound room yesterday after my initial interview, I might not have known there was a small group of production members behind a thin pane of glass and several cameras aimed directly at us just out of sight.
I’m seated in a chair that I watched one of the crew members move into the setup yesterday.
At Macey’s direction, he placed it near what I soon learned was her chair, leaving the original one stationed across from both of us, creating a loose triangle.
The configuration implies we’re a team or working together, and I suppose we are, but I assumed I would be more of a guest, like Harlyn, than the optics seem to be implying.
Harlyn tugs on the sleeve of her sweater and makes her way over.
Her light blue eyes are a little wide, but she’s doing a pretty good job of masking her tension.
If I didn’t know all the signs to look for, I might not notice the way her chest rises and falls a little too fast, or the fact that she’s swallowed at least three times since entering the room.
After lowering herself to sit on the end of the chair, she keeps her posture rigid for a heartbeat, then she seems to realize what she’s doing and scoots back deeper into the oversized armchair.
I catch sight of her short, dark nails curling into the top of her thighs before allowing my gaze to rise to her face.
Something in my chest constricts, suddenly making it hard to breathe, and the only explanation I can come up with for the phenomenon is Harlyn Wade.
I could try to tell myself it has something to do with the fact that she resembles the woman in the crime scene photos I poured over last night, but it would be a lie.
I find myself wondering if the slight darkness under her eyes, hinting at a lack of sleep, was ever an issue before she lost her twin.
“If you’re comfortable, we can get started.” Macey’s voice is now familiar to me from having listened to a few of her podcasts in preparation for this and spending the day being interviewed by her yesterday, but it doesn’t pull Harlyn’s attention nor mine.
Harlyn nods distractedly while sending her suspicious gaze about the room, searching the shadows.
It prompts me to see the space clearly arranged in an effort to create a specific ambiance in a different light.
What seemed soft and relaxing before now feels dark and shadowy.
While I can’t say for certain the obscurity beyond the set is making her uneasy, I’d be willing to bet it is.
I know for a fact she is the one who found her sister’s body, and that does something to a person.
When she slowly turns and tries to look over her shoulder, I feel the need to soothe her.
Without a word, I pick up my phone, point it in the direction of her chair, then hold the flashlight icon.
It lights up the back wall, which is painted a flat black, and some of the surrounding area.
Just as Harlyn turns to find the light source, I angle the phone down toward my legs.
“Sorry, I thought I dropped my pen.” Her eyes dip down to the notepad on my lap, where my ink pen is clearly visible on top of the paper.
I use my free hand to flick it into the edge of the chair while she watches, but before Macey can spot what just happened.
Casually, as if by accident, I move my phone around, making sure Harlyn gets a decent look at the rest of the empty space around us.
When her eyes return to mine, there’s a new softness in her gaze.
“Did you find it?” Macey leans over the side of her chair, looking at the floor.
Harlyn keeps up my ruse. “I think I see it right next to your leg.”
I make a show of feeling around in the crevice of the cushion next to me before finally lifting it up victoriously. “Got it.”
“Okay, I think we’re ready to get started then. Harlyn, I’ll ease you into it. First, we’ll talk a little bit about your sister and what she was like. I want the listeners to really get to know her before we get into details about what happened to her. Okay?”
Nothing that Macey said should rub me wrong, since she’s explaining her process to Harlyn, but something about her casualness and perceived lack of empathy when talking about her twin grates on me.
The sad part is, it happens so often with the people closest to victims. It’s easy to forget that they are more than tools to help us solve a crime.
“Okay,” Harlyn agrees with a hard swallow.
“Hey, Unexplained fans. It’s Marcy with a story that will be sure to have you checking that your doors are locked tonight.
In today’s case, we’re meeting with Harlyn Wade to discuss the death—no, murder of her twin sister, Hayzel.
We are also lucky enough to have renowned criminal profiler, FBI Special Agent Landry with us to give insight into the events surrounding Hayzel Wade’s death.
Harlyn, thank you for joining us. I know how tough it can be to revisit the past. What can you tell us about your sister? ”
Harlyn’s eyes pinch a little, “Uh… She… was my person. Even when we argued or didn’t agree on something, she was…
my light.” Her sentence starts slow, as if she’s not quite sure how to answer, but as she continues, her voice grows stronger, and by the end of her statement, I can hear the authenticity of her words.
Macey softly encourages, “That sounds amazing. Tell us about her.”
Harlyn’s eyes shift away from Macey’s face, lifting up and to the right.
She seems to be accessing memories. “She wasn’t perfect,” Harlyn prefaces with a small smile.
“I hate when people act like someone could never do any wrong just because they died. She wasn’t a saint, but she was amazing, and I know it sounds cliché, but she really did light up every room she walked into.
She looked for the best in people. I thought that made her na?ve, but it was just who she was. ”
“What do you mean?” Macey questions.
“When we were growing up, there was this boy who would tease us all the time about being foster kids—”
“You were in the foster system?” Macey interrupts with an incredulous tone.
“No, our grandparents took us in when our parents died. He just didn’t know that or didn’t care,” she explains with a shake of her head. “Anyway, he was an assho—jerk.”
“It’s okay, you can say anything you want as far as cursing. Content warnings already put us with a mature rating,” Macey says in a different tone, which I know won’t make the editing.
“Well, I wanted to shove a stick in the spoke on his bike. I was so tired of listening to him, but Hayzel wouldn’t let me.
She said he only acted like that because he was hurting on the inside and was lashing out.
It was something our therapist said. For me, it went in one ear and out the other, but she really listened and took his words to heart.
We found out later that little boy was abused by his dad.
” She gives a small shrug of her shoulders.
“Like I said, she chose to see the good in people, even when she probably shouldn’t have. ”
“You guys were in therapy after your parents’ deaths?”
“Yeah, for a few years,” Harlyn answers without any sign of hesitance.
“What was high school like for you two?”
“Typical, I guess. She had a few boyfriends, but nothing too serious. She tended to do more of a group thing.”
“And were you in that group?”
“Sort of. I was there for her and a couple other people.” Her answer about herself is less direct, but nothing I would call evasive.
“Things changed when she went to college.” Macey’s tone lowers, alluding to the fact that things are getting more serious.
“Yeah, we unexpectedly lost our granddad that summer, and when we left for school, it was the first time we hadn’t live together, but that didn’t last long.”
“I’m sorry about your granddad. You guys had a lot of losses in a short time. That must have been really hard on both of you. I read you moved to be closer to her, right?”
“Yeah,” Harlyn murmurs softly.
“The story in your local paper after her death alluded to the fact that she was struggling at her new school, and you left everything behind to be closer to her,” Macey prompts.
This is news to me. I didn’t have a chance to read through all the details in the file last night surrounding Hayzel’s life. I mostly focused on the case itself.
Harlyn plays down the meaningful gesture. “I wasn’t giving up much.”
“I’m not sure everyone would agree with you that leaving your own dream college behind isn’t giving up much.”
“Sometimes it takes getting what you think you want before you realize the idea was better than reality. I was happy to be with my sister.”
“I’m sure even more so now.” Macey’s eyelids lower a little in a show of emotion that doesn’t seem to be manufactured for the camera’s sake, which I was concerned about.
I haven’t gotten a true sense of her motives.
I’m sure this podcast venture started for the right reasons, but now that she’s received a bit of notoriety, the incentive might have changed.
“Yeah, especially now,” Harlyn agrees wistfully.
“Was there anything in particular that she was struggling with that brought you both back together?”
“I don’t think struggling is the right word. I would say we were both having some separation issues. Hayzel was used to being surrounded by people she knew and loved. Alpine was a new city. Granddad had passed, and I think the change all at once was a little jarring for her.”
“Understandable. Was Hayzel seeing anyone around the time of her death?” Macey accepts Harlyn’s answer easily enough and moves on, though I feel like there could be more to the story.
“Yes.”
Macey flips through some papers on her lap. “A young man by the name of Colten Scott, right? He was questioned by the police but was never considered a person of interest. How do you feel about that?”
“How do I feel about him being questioned, or about the fact that he had nothing to do with it?” Harlyn eyes the other woman. If I’m reading her response correctly, this question seems to irritate her.
Macey doesn’t react to Harlyn’s mood shift. “Either or both, I guess.”
“I’m glad he was questioned, we all were.
I want the police to learn every detail they can, but I feel bad that people assume he had something to do with it just because it’s always the boyfriend or husband in these cases.
Clearly, that’s not really true. Colten is a good guy, and he didn’t have anything to do with Hayzel’s murder. ”
“You feel strongly about that,” Macey interjects.
“Yeah, I do, and it isn’t just because I don’t think he’s capable, which is true, but he also has a rock-solid alibi the police verified.” Harlyn tips her chin down while her brows rise in a show of conviction.
“Did he have any insight into who might have wanted to hurt your twin sister?” Macey’s mention of their close, familial relationship isn’t necessary, but it serves as a reminder to those tuning in to keep them engaged.
Why didn’t I seem to notice these same little tactics yesterday, even though she used the same strategies while talking about my case and the few others I listened to while prepping for this interview?
“No, at least not that I know of. He never said anything to me, and I can’t really imagine anyone wanting to hurt Hayzel.”
“So no enemies or scorned exes in the picture?”
“No. Like I said, she wasn’t perfect, but she was loved.” The stiff set of Harlyn’s shoulders eases a little.
“That idea contradicts the police’s theory though, right? The Alpine Police Department believes that Hayzel was killed by someone she knew.”
“Yeah.” Harlyn sighs and shakes her head.
“However, you made it clear in our initial interview that you don’t think that’s the case. You believe your twin was murdered by a serial killer.”
Harlyn’s lips part just enough for me to see the tip of her tongue moving back and forth behind her bottom teeth. Her light eyes drift in my direction, where they remain when she answers, “No, I know my sister was murdered by a serial killer.”