Chapter 3 #2
"And you think the answers lie in the official files?"
“Yes, but I also think the answers lie in what's not in the official files.
" Evelyn leaned back in her chair, and Pierce caught a glimpse of the weariness that came from fighting systems designed to resist scrutiny.
"Files get sealed, evidence gets misfiled, witnesses suddenly forget what they saw.
It's amazing how efficient small-town amnesia can be when the right people want something to disappear. "
Pierce exchanged glances with his team. This was exactly the kind of story Cold Trail was built for—institutional corruption, covered-up evidence, a community conspiracy of silence. "Who should we talk to? Who would you interview if you were starting fresh?"
"Rebecca's sister, definitely. Wendy Sutton.
She's remarried now but still lives in the area.
Liam Hale, Rebecca's surviving son. He was away at college when it happened, but he might know things about his mother's life that never made it into police reports.
" Evelyn tapped her pen against the notebook.
"Travis Rudd, if you can find him. The county and state investigators, though don't expect them to admit they missed anything. And..." She hesitated.
"And?"
"There were rumors about Rebecca's personal life.
Multiple relationships, some of them with people who had a lot to lose if they became public.
Small-town politics, you understand. Married men, men in positions of authority.
" Evelyn's voice dropped. "People with the connections to make problems disappear. "
The room fell silent except for the distant sound of traffic on Forest Hill Avenue.
Pierce felt the weight of the story settling around them like a net—threads of corruption and cover-up, personal secrets and institutional failure, all wrapped around the brutal murders of a mother and son who deserved better than a thin file and fading memories.
"Dr. Cross," Pierce said finally, "would you mind if I asked how you got into this work? What drove you to become someone who investigates the cases everyone else wants to forget?"
Evelyn's smile was sad and knowing. "Born in Savannah, Georgia.
City of beautiful houses and old secrets, which probably shaped my fascination with the things people try to hide.
" She looked out the window toward the mountains.
"My father was a police officer. When I was twelve, he was killed in the line of duty while investigating a domestic homicide.
Case never got solved—not enough evidence, witnesses who wouldn't talk, the usual obstacles that crop up when people want something buried. "
She continued, her voice taking on the cadence of someone who'd told this story before but still felt its weight.
"Scholarship to University of Georgia, double major in Criminal Justice and Psychology.
Master's in Criminology while working patrol, eventually a PhD in Behavioral Science.
Spent years working major crimes, thinking I could fix the system from the inside. "
"What changed?"
"A case that broke my faith in the idea that the system wants to be fixed." Evelyn's eyes went distant. "Details don't matter, but let's just say I learned that sometimes the people you're supposed to trust are the ones making sure certain truths never see daylight."
Pierce wanted to push for more details, but something in Evelyn's expression suggested that particular door was closed for now. "So you came here to start over?"
"My daughter lives here, and, well, it's a beautiful part of the country.
Peaceful, or so I thought." She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"Pierce, crime is everywhere. Most people just don't know how much of it there is.
If they did, they'd live on islands. But for people like us, it's not a hobby, it's all we've ever known.
" She gestured around the converted house.
“I’m an independent consultant now. I contract with law enforcement when they want an outside perspective, work with universities on cold case methodology.
Small operation but specialized. People tend to see me like a modern-day female Sherlock Holmes with a lab coat and a PhD. "
Pierce could see why Evelyn Cross had gravitated toward the Hale case. She understood the frustration of investigation, the way cases could be buried under bureaucratic weight. She had both the street credibility of her detective background and the academic authority to back up her conclusions.
"So why hasn't this case been solved?" Pierce asked. "Ten years, all the resources of state and county law enforcement, and nothing?"
Evelyn chuckled, but the sound carried more resignation than amusement.
"Getting a few wins under your belt doesn't guarantee you can solve every case, Pierce.
There are variables you can't control, uncooperative witnesses, contaminated evidence, jurisdictional politics, budget constraints.
Some cases get solved in hours, others take decades, some never get solved at all.
That's the nature of criminal investigation.
" She looked around the room, taking in the expensive equipment and the team's expectant faces.
"If I had a nickel for every person who asked me why this case hasn't been solved by now, I'd be wealthy. "
Pierce followed her gaze, suddenly conscious of how their setup might look to someone who'd spent years fighting for resources and recognition. "You look pretty comfortable already."
"Looks can be deceiving. So can leads, witnesses, and evidence.
You'll get plenty of all three on this case, I guarantee it.
But don't presume you know who's at fault, and don't make assumptions about what you're going to find.
The truth is usually more complicated than the story people want to tell. "
Before Pierce could respond, Theo's phone buzzed with a text message. He glanced at it and looked up. "We've got a response from that ADKLawGirl user. She’s down for meeting this afternoon at the Daily Enterprise in High Peaks. Says she can offer local access and historical context."
Pierce felt the familiar rush of momentum building. "Set it up. What's her real name?"
"Mia Sutherland."
Evelyn's eyebrows rose slightly. "Sutherland? That's a family name with deep roots in local law enforcement. Her father's probably Noah Sutherland, BCI investigator, good reputation. Her grandfather is Hugh Sutherland, retired sheriff."
"Think that'll be helpful or problematic?"
"Depends on what you're looking for and how careful you are about finding it.
Hugh was the sheriff on the Hale case at the time of the murders.
" Evelyn stood, signaling the end of their meeting.
"Just remember what I said about assumptions.
In a place like this, family connections can open doors or slam them shut, sometimes both at the same time. "
The road to High Peaks wound through dense forest broken by occasional glimpses of farms and small communities, each turn revealing another postcard vista of mountains and lakes that looked too perfect to be real.
"So what do you think?" Marcus asked as they approached the High Peaks town line.
"I think Dr. Cross just told us everything we need to know about why this case went cold," Pierce replied. "Question is whether we're walking into incompetence or conspiracy."
"Does it matter?" Camila asked from the back seat. "Either way, it's a story."
"It matters if we want to stay healthy long enough to tell it," Pierce said, though his tone suggested he found the possibility of danger more exciting than concerning.
The Adirondack Daily Enterprise occupied a converted Victorian house on Main Street, its gingerbread trim painted in colors that suggested someone had tried very hard to make journalism look quaint and approachable.
Pierce parked the van in the small lot beside the building and surveyed the scene, a handful of other vehicles, including a newer Subaru that probably belonged to their contact.
"There," Sienna said, pointing toward a young woman standing near the building's entrance. "Dark hair in a ponytail, just like she said."
Pierce studied the figure through the van's windshield. Even from a distance, he could see the nervous energy in her posture, the way she checked her phone and looked around like she was afraid someone might see her. "Finally, we get to put a face to the username ADKLawGirl."
They gathered their equipment and approached the building, Pierce leading. The young woman—Mia Sutherland, he reminded himself—spotted them immediately and broke into a smile that managed to be both enthusiastic and anxious.
"Mr. Landry? I'm Mia." She extended her hand, and Pierce noted the firm handshake, and the direct eye contact. "This really is one of those pinch-me moments. I've been listening to your podcast since you started a few years back. I can't believe you're actually here."
"Neither can I," Theo muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Pierce.
"Please, call me Pierce. And thank you for reaching out. Local perspective is exactly what we need. Out of curiosity what does ADKLawGirl mean?”
“ADK. It’s short for Adirondacks. Law because I’m about to study law, and…"
“Girl, right,” Theo added. “We get it."
She smiled.
Pierce gestured toward the building. “Well, lead the way."
Mia led them through the front entrance of the Daily Enterprise and into a building that smelled of newsprint and coffee, with the underlying mustiness that came from decades of absorbing the stories and secrets of a small community.
The main floor had been converted into a modern newsroom, but Pierce could see traces of the building's residential past in the crown molding and hardwood floors.