Chapter 14
Hadley Dawkins
The dirt road curved through a stand of oak trees, their branches forming a tunnel of blotchy shadows that caused Hadley to squint against the alternating light and dark.
When the trees finally parted, a well-maintained ranch-style home came into view.
The porch was surrounded by carefully tended flower beds, though the split-rail fence on the right-hand side of the lawn had seen better days.
She slowly came to a stop behind a familiar red pickup truck. The vehicle had to be at least twenty years old, but the paint shone as if it had just been driven off the lot.
She left the engine idling as she studied the property.
When nothing stood out, she focused on the windows.
The protective talisman in Amelia’s house should have clued Hadley in on just how strong the roots were regarding the story behind the Threshing Man.
She was usually more observant, and she chided herself for not spotting the pentacle when she’d first walked through the door.
Garber's windows were bare.
The absence of a talisman bothered her more than it should have.
She didn’t want to believe that Garber had tampered with evidence or fabricated a story to get out of investigating the disappearance of a young woman.
If such a theory were proven true, it would only add to the insidious doubt that had plagued her for so long.
Hadley killed the engine. She palmed her keys before stepping out of her vehicle, her presence scattering a cluster of brown and white chickens from beneath an old oak tree. Their indignant squawks faded, replaced by the sound of Johnny Cash's deep baritone drifting from somewhere behind the house.
She followed the sound, noticing that it was accompanied by the rhythmic thud of something heavy striking wood.
The air smelled of freshly split timber and impending rain.
As she rounded the corner, she spotted Elijah Garber next to a substantial woodpile.
An axe was raised high above his head, and he brought it down in a practiced arc against a waiting log.
The implement landed awkwardly, though. It had embedded itself at an angle rather than splitting the wood clean through.
He’d noticed her a little too late, and his aim had been interrupted.
Despite the mild temperature, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe it away.
“Heard you were in town,” Elijah said, his tone softening as he assessed her. “Might I say it’s about damn time, too. Welcome home, Hadley.”
She offered him a small smile.
Elijah had known her since she was a child.
He’d also been there the night Mason was arrested, and he had taken her statement while her ten-year-old hands trembled around a mug of hot chocolate piled high with mini-marshmallows.
The weight of those memories pressed down on her until it became difficult to breathe.
“I'm not surprised word spread so quickly,” Hadley responded as he closed the distance between them. He pulled her into an awkward embrace, patting her back without any rhythm. “Apparently, I was the talk of Telfort's funeral.”
Elijah's laugh was short and dry as he pulled away to tuck the handkerchief back into his pocket.
"Small towns. Can't sneeze without someone offering you a tissue from three streets over.” He scrutinized her for a long moment, his expression shifting into something more contemplative. “You look good, Hadley. Life's been treating you well?”
She wished she could say the same of him, but he’d aged drastically since she’d seen him last. His hair had thinned and grayed, and deep lines had formed into his sun-weathered face.
His once straight posture had given way to gravity.
Then again, all those changes were expected of a man in his early seventies.
“I can't complain,” Hadley finally replied, deflecting the personal inquiry. The burn in her chest returned, a reminder that her body disagreed with her assessment. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Got some apple cider warming on the stove. Made it just this morning. Care to join me on the porch?”
“That sounds nice,” Hadley responded as they fell into step beside one another. She matched his slow gait. “Though I have to admit, this isn't just a social call.”
“I hope you’ll catch me up on your life just the same.”
The rest of their walk was made in silence. It was sad to admit that part of their conversation would last maybe thirty seconds. More had taken place in his life, such as the loss of his wife and then his retirement three years ago.
The front porch stretched across the entire face of the house, its wooden boards swept clean of autumn leaves.
Two rocking chairs waited side by side, positioned to catch the afternoon sun while overlooking the property.
Between the rockers sat a small table, a round ashtray in the center with a few cigarette butts.
Apparently, the former sheriff still enjoyed his nicotine.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Elijah instructed, gesturing toward one of the chairs. “I'll bring out the cider.”
Hadley lowered herself into the rocker on the far side.
The one closest to the door was obviously his favorite if the scuff marks in the wood were anything to go by.
She ran her fingertips over the smooth armrests as she collected her thoughts.
The manner in which she approached him with her questions was critical to obtaining honest answers.
The screen door squeaked open, signaling Elijah's return.
Two blue ceramic mugs with steam curling upward in thin, fragrant spirals were in his hands.
The aroma of apples and cinnamon floated from both as she took one.
The cider's warmth eased through the ceramic and into her palms as Elijah sank into the chair beside her, the wood creaking under his weight.
“I've followed your career, you know,” Elijah said, his voice once again carrying an affectionate tone that caught her off guard.
He leaned back in his chair, initiating a gentle rocking motion.
“Made detective in record time. Closed that serial arson case in Pulaski that had everyone stumped. I'm proud of you, Hadley.”
She continued to stir her cider with the lone cinnamon stick, observing the amber liquid swirl as she collected herself. Elijah’s praise evoked complicated emotions that she hadn't prepared herself for, making questioning his ethics all the more difficult.
Postponing the inevitable, Hadley took a tentative sip of her cider.
She used the action to mask her discomfort.
While she never drank a beverage when in the field, Elijah had been more family to her than her own mother.
The spiced sweetness spread across her tongue, carrying childhood memories she'd rather not revisit.
She just couldn’t win today.
She lowered the mug and kept the conversation on safe ground.
“The academy wasn't my original plan,” Hadley divulged as she rested the bottom of the mug against the armrest. “I was halfway through pre-law at UA when I realized I wanted to be on the investigative side. Switched my major to criminal justice, graduated early, and went straight to the academy.”
“You were always focused, so that doesn’t surprise me. And patrol to detective? That must have been a quick transition.”
“Three years,” Hadley admitted as she used her thumb to track the handle of her mug. She kept to herself that she was still paying off her student loans. “I took the detective’s exam a little earlier than most, but it was the right thing to do at the time.”
“I’ve got to admit that I was a little taken aback when the state sent you here to review the legwork of Langley and Turner.
” Elijah's rocking slowed as he studied her over the rim of his mug.
“Let me guess. They thought that with you being a local and all, those involved would be more inclined to speak with you than an outsider.”
The gentle probing had gone on long enough.
Hadley set her mug on the small table between them and met his gaze directly.
"They got it right, Chief,” Hadley admitted cautiously, using his former title more out of habit than respect. “I stopped by Amelia Claymont’s residence this morning. Janet Shepley was there, and she shared with me something that I find very hard to believe.”
Elijah brought his own rocking chair to a standstill.
Hadley’s heart broke a little.
“Janet claims evidence was found in Pearl's locker suggesting she might have been pregnant—a pamphlet about options for pregnant teens and an appointment card for a clinic in Emberwood.” Hadley paused to give him a brief moment to digest her words.
“Yet nothing like that was mentioned in your reports, Chief.”
Elijah's expression remained neutral, though his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his mug. The slight whitening of his knuckles was the only indication of his unease.
“I thought you were here to review the Claymont case.”
“Janet also mentioned that this evidence somehow got lost between the high school and the station,” Hadley continued without answering his inquiry. “Can you tell me how that happened?”
Elijah took a long, deliberate sip of his cider. He gazed out over his property, the chickens enjoying their lazy afternoon. They clucked contentedly while pecking at the ground, searching for hidden treasures in the soft dirt.
“That was a long time ago, Hadley,” Elijah murmured vaguely. “Memories get fuzzy, details change in people's minds over the years.”
“Do they?” Hadley pressed, her question earning a sharp glance. “Because there wasn’t any mention of those items in any of the reports. I've read them all—every single page. There's no record of a pregnancy pamphlet or an appointment card.”