Chapter 14
Hours later, Mia sat in her car outside the Adirondack Inn, gripping the steering wheel while her father's words echoed in her mind.
Stay home. This is a police matter now. The dismissal stung more than it should have, but what bothered her most was the finality in his voice, as if Pierce's disappearance had already been written off as a lost cause.
The hotel looked different in the harsh morning light, its faded Victorian charm unable to mask the tension that seemed to emanate from the building itself.
Three sheriff's department vehicles sat in the parking lot alongside a High Peaks PD cruiser, their presence announcing to anyone who cared to look that something significant had happened.
Mia pulled down the vanity mirror and checked her appearance, smoothing her dark hair back into a ponytail and making sure she looked like someone who belonged at the scene rather than a curious teenager playing detective.
She'd learned from watching her father that confidence and purpose could open doors that hesitation and uncertainty kept locked.
The hotel lobby smelled of stale coffee and industrial carpet cleaner, with an underlying mustiness. The desk clerk looked up as she entered, his expression shifting from polite professionalism to wariness when he noted her youth.
“Hi, I’m here to see Deputy Callie Thorne," Mia said with the kind of authority she'd learned from years of watching Sutherland family members navigate bureaucratic obstacles. "My father asked me to deliver a message."
The clerk scrutinized her then consulted a clipboard that seemed to contain more information than a simple guest registry. "And your father is?"
"Noah Sutherland, BCI." The magic words that opened doors throughout the Adirondack region, carrying the weight of four generations of law enforcement credibility.
"Oh." The clerk's demeanor shifted immediately. "She's upstairs coordinating interviews. Elevator's right there, but you'll need to check in with the officer posted on the second floor."
Mia thanked him and headed for the elevator, her heart rate increasing as she realized she was about to walk into an active investigation scene.
The elevator car was small and shabby, with mirrored walls that reflected her nervous energy back at her from multiple angles.
She pressed the button for the second floor and tried to project the kind of calm competence that would get her past whatever security was waiting.
The elevator doors opened to reveal exactly what she'd feared, and hoped for.
Callie stood in the hallway with another deputy, both of them looking over as the elevator arrived.
Callie's expression went through several stages: surprise, recognition, suspicion, and finally a kind of resigned amusement.
"What are you doing here?" Callie asked, stepping forward to block Mia's path down the hallway.
"My father sent me to—"
"No, he didn't." Callie's tone was firm but not unkind. "Nice try, though. I just got off the phone with Noah twenty minutes ago, and he made it very clear that if you showed up here, I was supposed to keep you away from this investigation."
Mia felt her carefully constructed plan crumble, but she pushed forward anyway. "C’mon, Callie, I know these people. I've already been working with Pierce, helping him understand local dynamics and family connections. Maybe I could—"
"Get yourself killed by whoever took Pierce.
" Callie pulled Mia to one side, lowering her voice so the other deputy couldn't overhear.
"Look, I admire your gumption, I really do.
I had the same kind at your age. Takes guts to walk in here and try to talk your way past law enforcement.
But there is absolutely no way I'm letting you anywhere near Pierce's team right now. "
"Why not? What aren't you telling me?"
"I'm not telling you anything because you’re not a police officer, and your father specifically instructed me not to. Mia, this is an active investigation into a possible homicide, not a learning opportunity for aspiring investigators." Callie said.
“But…”
"Rules are rules, Mia. Even for Sutherlands."
Mia felt the frustration of being treated like a child when she knew she had information and insights that could help the investigation. But she also recognized the steel in Callie's voice that suggested further argument would be futile.
"Fine," she said, stepping back toward the elevator. "But if Pierce turns up dead because someone missed something that I could have spotted, don't say I didn't try to help."
"If Pierce turns up dead, it'll be because someone with significant resources and planning wanted him eliminated. Not because we failed to consult an eighteen-year-old with good intentions."
The words stung, but Mia recognized the truth behind them. Whatever had happened to Pierce was beyond the scope of amateur investigation, no matter how well-intentioned or locally connected.
She rode the elevator back to the lobby in silence, nodding politely to the desk clerk as she headed for the exit. Outside, she sat in her car for several minutes, watching deputies and investigators move in and out of the hotel while she contemplated her next move.
Her father had blocked her from the crime scene. Callie had blocked her from the Cold Trail team. But her father’s authority didn't extend beyond law enforcement channels, and there were other people connected to this investigation who might be more willing to share information.
Mia pulled out her phone and did a quick search for "Evelyn Cross forensic criminologist Saranac Lake.
" Pierce had mentioned her in the first episode of the Cold Trail season, describing her as someone with extensive knowledge of the Hale case and access to information that hadn't been made public.
If Pierce had been working with her, she might have insights into what he'd been investigating in his final days.
The journey to Evelyn’s home in Saranac Lake was peaceful.
She parked in the gravel driveway beside a black Range Rover that had seen better years and took a moment to gather her courage.
Mia knocked and waited, hearing footsteps inside and the sound of a deadbolt being turned.
The woman who answered the door wore dark jeans and a button-down shirt that suggested someone who dressed for function rather than fashion.
"Can I help you?" Evelyn asked, though her tone suggested she already had a good idea who Mia was.
"Mia Sutherland. I'm—"
"I know who you are." A smile crossed Evelyn's face, transforming her expression from professional wariness to something approaching warmth. "Noah's daughter. You look just like your mother."
The reference to her mother caught Mia off guard, creating an immediate connection that she hadn't expected. “Sorry to bother you, I was just hoping to speak with you regarding the Hale case and Pierce Landry's recent disappearance."
Evelyn glanced beyond Mia, her gaze scanning the road.
"Your father not with you?"
"Why would he be?"
Evelyn's smile widened, and Mia caught a glimpse of amusement that suggested the older woman understood exactly why an eighteen-year-old might be conducting her own investigation rather than waiting for parental approval.
“Well, I guess you should come in,” Evelyn said, stepping aside to allow Mia into a house that felt like stepping back into a more gracious era. "Do you drink coffee?" Evelyn asked, gesturing toward a thermal carafe on a side table.
"Yeah. Thank you." Mia accepted a mug gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic while she gathered her thoughts.
"So," Evelyn said, settling into a chair across from her, "Pierce Landry. I heard about what happened at the cabin this morning. Any word on his whereabouts?"
"That's what I was hoping you might know. Pierce mentioned working with you on the Hale case. I was wondering if you might know what he discovered before he disappeared."
Evelyn was quiet for a moment, studying Mia with the kind of careful attention that made her feel like she was being evaluated for something important. "How much do you know about the original investigation?"
“Only what's in the public record. The newspaper coverage, the basic timeline, the fact that it went cold despite having what seemed like solid leads."
"What Pierce was investigating," Evelyn said carefully, "was why those leads were never followed up on. Why evidence disappeared, why witnesses stopped talking, why a case that should have been solvable turned into a decade-old mystery."
She moved to her desk and returned with a thick file folder that she placed on the coffee table between them.
“Are those the files?”
“The originals. I gave Pierce copies. He told me you were helping. Didn’t he show you these?”
“No. Pierce was... protective of the information. Personally, I think he thought I might scoop the case out from underneath him if he shared too much. But given what's happened, I think those concerns are no longer relevant,” Mia said.
Mia leaned forward as Evelyn opened the folder, revealing photographs, documents, and handwritten notes that represented years of investigation into the Hale murders. The material was organized neatly.
"This is a goldmine," Mia breathed, taking in the scope of information that Pierce had apparently only scratched the surface of.
"The question is where to begin," Evelyn said. "The case has more suspects since Keith, more motives, and more cover-up than most people realize. Pierce was just starting to understand how deep the corruption goes."
She pulled out a page covered with names and connecting lines that looked like a conspiracy theorist's fever dream. "Local law enforcement, business leaders, political figures, all connected to either the original investigation or the subsequent cover-up."
"You think that's why Pierce has vanished? Because he was getting too close to exposing a conspiracy?"
"I think Pierce made the mistake of underestimating how far certain people would go to protect secrets they've been hiding for ten years," Evelyn said. "The question is whether you're going to make the same mistake."
“My father thinks so.” Mia felt a chill at the implication, but also a thrill of excitement at finally being treated like an adult capable of understanding the real stakes involved. "Anyway, what do you mean?"
"I mean that continuing this investigation could get you killed. It seems your father understands that, which is why he's trying to keep you away from it. But I also understand that telling an intelligent young woman to stay away from something that interests her is usually counterproductive."
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, studying Mia with the kind of assessment that felt like a job interview. "So the question becomes: Are you going to pursue this investigation regardless of the risks, or are you going to be smart enough to back away before you become the next victim?"
"If you thought I was going to back away, you wouldn't be showing me this file."
"True. Which brings us to the next question: How serious are you about learning to conduct investigations safely rather than getting yourself killed through amateur enthusiasm?"
Mia felt her pulse quicken as she realized Evelyn was offering something more than just information, she was offering mentorship from someone with decades of professional experience.
"What would that involve?"
"Learning to think like a criminologist rather than a true crime enthusiast. There are enough of those folks online.
You would be understanding how to develop sources without compromising them, how to verify information without alerting suspects, how to protect yourself when asking dangerous questions about dangerous people. "
They spent the next two hours going through Evelyn's files, with her providing context and analysis that transformed scattered facts into coherent patterns.
Mia learned about evidence chains that had been broken, witnesses who'd been intimidated into silence, and connections between the Hale murders and other suspicious deaths in the region.
“So, what made you step away from the case?” Mia asked.
“I didn’t. I return to it from time to time, but cold cases are cold for a reason.
It’s a little like fishing, Mia. Sometimes you get a bite, other times you can be out there for days, weeks, even months without catching anything.
My line is still out there. People know where I am if they want to give a tip.
Patience breaks cases, not impulsivity or obsession.
” She closed the case file. "Look, I shouldn’t do this but I know you’re going to investigate no matter what I say.
I have a friend. You should meet him," Evelyn said as they prepared to wrap up their conversation.
“He’s a blogger over in Tupper Lake who's been working this case since the beginning.
He's... unconventional, but he has sources and insights that you won't find anywhere else. "
"What's his name?"
"Gideon Marks.”
“You got an address?”
Evelyn grinned.
As Mia gathered her things and prepared to leave, she felt like she'd crossed some invisible threshold from observer to participant. The information Evelyn had shared was both exciting and terrifying, opening possibilities for real investigation while making clear the genuine dangers involved.
Outside, Mia sat in her car for several minutes, processing what she'd learned while trying to decide on her next move.
Her phone buzzed with a Facebook notification, and she glanced at the screen expecting to see a message from one of her friends.
Instead, she found herself staring at a message from someone named Ivy Rivers, an account with no profile picture and minimal public information.
How was your visit to Evelyn Cross? Don't go down the same road as Pierce or you will end up in the same place.
A chill came over Mia as she realized someone had been watching her, tracking her movements, and was now threatening her directly.
She looked around the quiet residential street, taking in the ordinary scenes of suburban life—a couple walking their dog, a kid riding by on a bike, a neighbor putting bags of leaves on the front yard.
She replied back: Who is this?
She waited, then noticed the person deactivated their Facebook account.
Any one of them could be watching her. Or none of them. The paranoia that came with being threatened by anonymous sources was exactly what Evelyn had warned her about, but knowing that didn't make it any less effective.
Mia started her car and pulled away from Evelyn's house, checking her rearview mirror more frequently than usual while her mind raced through the implications of the threatening message. Someone knew where she'd been, who she'd talked to, and what kind of investigation she was conducting.