Chapter 4
Hadley Dawkins
Hadley sat motionless behind the steering wheel, the engine off.
The only sound besides the cooling motor was the crunch of her antacids.
The berry-flavored tablets finally dissolved into a gritty paste on her tongue, but it was better than allowing a fire to simmer in her chest for the remainder of the day.
She stared through the windshield at the old Victorian that passed for the Whistlerun Police Station.
The house sat squarely across from town square, like a tired heart in the center of a fading body.
Weathered, worn, but still beating. Still pumping blood through the cracked sidewalks and rusted gutters of a place that pretended time hadn’t moved on.
The once-pristine white paint had long since surrendered to the elements, curling away from the wood in faded strips.
Faded green shutters flanked the windows, and the matching front door had dulled to a shade of wet moss.
The wrap-around porch stretched out on either side, a little uneven, with the railing bowing in several places.
Since there was a stack of fresh boards on the front lawn, it appeared that a renovation was about to take place.
From her understanding, Reed had only been appointed police chief by the mayor three years ago. It had probably taken him that long to get the funding needed to keep the place inhabitable.
The house had initially belonged to the town’s first police chief, who had insisted that law and home were one and the same. Somewhere along the way, that idea had stuck. Now, decades later, the chief still lived upstairs while the ground floor served as the town’s police station.
Hadley glanced down at the keys dangling in the ignition. They were tempting her. One twist, and she could escape her life once more.
But she wouldn't run this time.
Not again.
Movement on the porch drew her focus away from the shiny temptation. The station's front door had swung open, and a tall figure stepped out carrying two white mugs.
Police Chief Reed Langley.
He was both familiar and foreign at once. Taller than she remembered, with that same military-straight posture that had always made him stand out among the slouching farm boys of Whistlerun. His dark hair was casually styled in a way that suggested careful effort disguised as indifference.
The police uniform fit his athletic frame perfectly, accentuating broad shoulders that had once carried her across the finish line during their senior year field day after she'd twisted her ankle.
Reed leaned against the porch railing with practiced ease, steam rising from the mugs in his hands. The half-smile that curved his lips still reached his eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that suggested authentic amusement rather than professional courtesy.
He had known she was there all along.
Hadley had prepared herself for animosity, for cold professionalism. Maybe even pity. But not a casual warmth, as if twelve years hadn't passed since she'd last seen him standing on the side of the road.
To Hadley’s surprise, a beautiful woman stepped out onto the porch to join him.
After a brief but outwardly loving discussion, he leaned down to accept her kiss before she descended the steps.
The woman lifted a hand, her left one with a shiny engagement ring, in what appeared to be a genuine greeting, leaving Hadley no choice but to reciprocate.
She didn’t recognize the woman, but then again, Hadley hadn’t recognized Rena, either.
The time had come to stop stalling. The little porch display reminded her that this was just business. Her return to Whistlerun had nothing to do with past relationships and everything to do with locating a missing girl.
Hadley retrieved her keys and then grabbed her backpack, which contained her laptop and several pertinent case files she believed were linked to Missy Claymont. Once she exited her vehicle, she took the deep breath that had escaped her all morning.
She’d survived this town before, and she could do it again.
Reed hadn't moved from his position against the wooden column, but his intense gaze tracked her approach. He was studying her, just as she had done with him. Focusing on each porch step, she counted them silently as she had done as a child.
One, two, three...
“Good morning,” Hadley greeted as she took the last step. It had taken her a while to prepare emotionally and mentally, but she was ready now. “It’s been a long time, Reed.”
“That it has,” Reed replied in agreement, his voice carrying that familiar rasp. He lifted one of the mugs slightly. “Figured you might need this after such a long drive.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Hadley murmured, tucking her keys into the side pocket of her backpack. She then took hold of the mug, the porcelain warm against her palm. “At least, not until I ran into Rena at Maisy’s.”
“Look on the bright side,” Reed said as he led her to two rocking chairs that had seen better days. “You could have run into Charlotte Nesbit instead.”
A laugh escaped before Hadley could stop it, genuine and unguarded.
“God, I'd forgotten all about her.” Hadley set her backpack next to the rocking chair before sitting down. “Didn't she scream something about me stealing her moment?”
“Her 'prom queen destiny,' I believe were the exact words.” Reed lifted his mug and took a long drink of his coffee, despite the hot temperature. “That right hook was impressive for someone in a formal gown.”
“Please tell me that she moved away.”
“No such luck.” Reed rested the mug on his khakis before scanning Main Street. “Figured we could talk out here and enjoy the weather. We’re due for some thunderstorms next week.”
Hadley had also researched the weather before her drive this morning. While Reed was right about a stormfront rolling in soon, the severe weather was expected to clear out before the commencement of the Cane County Harvest Festival.
Reed stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing at the ankles. The following silence between them stretched, accompanied by the distant sounds of vehicles on Main Street and the occasional call from some crows sitting in an oak tree off to the side.
“It’s good to see you, Reed.” Hadley broke the stillness. She’d been sincere in her statement. “Truly.”
“Twelve years, four months,” Reed replied without hesitation. His gaze held no regret, but his precise accounting of time caught her off guard. “I was sorry to hear about your mom.”
Hadley bit the side of her cheek to stop herself from making a snide remark. Maybe if her mother hadn’t drowned herself in alcohol day after day, her liver wouldn’t have given out.
“I appreciate that,” Hadley responded somewhat dismissively before taking a sip of her coffee.
It had been the mention of their senior prom that had tested her resolve to keep things professional.
To uphold that boundary, she needed to redirect the conversation.
“Sergeant Brosmer gave me Missy’s file, but I’m assuming that you’ll share any personal notes you took during that time with me? ”
The bitterness of the coffee mixed with the chalky substance still left in her mouth, and it was all she could do to keep her gag reflex under control.
“I printed everything off for you, including Sheriff Turner’s thoughts on the case,” Reed replied, though she briefly wondered if he might continue to try and dwell on past events.
“I have to admit, when your sergeant called, I was relieved. I didn’t think the mayor had that much clout with law enforcement.
The media have been all over this town, dredging up things best left alone.
They’ve hit the café, the diner, the shops on Main Street, and even the high school.
Now, there are cameras getting footage of the Cane County Harvest Festival’s setup. ”
“Reed, let’s be honest with one another.
” Hadley set her coffee mug down on the small table between the two chairs.
“My being here is a conflict of interest. My sergeant obviously doesn’t agree with me, hence my presence here this morning.
Still, you and I both know the residents aren’t going to talk to me. ”
“You underestimate them, Hadley,” Reed said softly, as if he couldn’t understand why she would believe differently. “Time changes some things. Give them a chance.”
The ambiguity of his statement hung between them, laden with unspoken questions. Had time changed how the locals viewed her? Not from Rena’s demeanor. Would the residents forgive her sin? Doubtful.
Hadley didn't pose the remaining questions, either. Instead, she shifted her attention down Main Street, where a colorful banner announcing the Cane County Harvest Festival hung from lampposts on either side of the street.
“I guess we’ll see how true that is,” Hadley murmured before gesturing toward the banner. “Mayor Caldwell is concerned the media’s presence might harm the festival’s turnout. Your thoughts?”
“You mean revenue,” Reed replied wryly. “The festival starts in two weeks, and already ticket sales are down thirty percent from last year. So, yes, I agree with him. The shop owners are concerned about the economic impact of such a drought. Everyone wants the media gone, but that’s not going to happen if we can’t close the Claymont case. ”
Hadley kept her thoughts to herself. It seemed highly unlikely that they could solve a case in just two weeks, especially considering no progress had been made in an entire year.
“As I said earlier, I spent most of the night reading the missing persons report on Missy Claymont.” Hadley reached for her coffee now that the discussion had gotten on the right track. “What’s your gut say? Was Missy abducted, or did she run away to Nashville?”
“Well, Missy was with Richie McCarthy, Veronica Lane, and a few other seniors that night. They claim that she talked about moving after graduation. She gave them no indication that she would do so beforehand.” Reed lifted the side of his mouth in contemplation.
“Missy and her grandmother were close. Close enough that I don’t believe Missy would have up and left. ”
“Have you followed up with anyone associated with the investigation recently?”
“Once Turner came in and muddied the waters, let’s just say that it’s taken me time to make amends with Amelia.
” Reed didn’t hide his dislike for the county sheriff.
“Not that it really matters. Unfortunately, there were no leads then, and there are no leads now. None. The only thing found was a DNA-confirmed napkin she’d used to clean herself and her cell phone deep in the woods. ”
Hadley had studied the map inserted in the file. If Missy had sought out a private place to relieve herself instead of walking to the front of the festival to use one of the portable toilets, her cell phone shouldn’t have been discovered a quarter of a mile into the woods on the Cox property.
“We brought in dogs from the county and a helicopter from the state police, as you know. Searchers combed every inch of those woods for three days straight. Nothing else turned up.”
“Didn’t we just cover the sense of betrayal among the locals?” Hadley couldn’t let the opportunity pass by without pointing out the irony of his words. “If those involved have given you a hard time, what makes you think they’ll talk to me?”
“Because I hear the statements over at the diner, like ‘Hadley Lynn Dawkins made another arrest’ and ‘Little Hadley made a name for herself’.” Reed brought his legs close enough to lean comfortably forward, keeping the mug in his right hand.
“You should know that after years of reading about your successes in the local paper, some of the residents have…well, let bygones be bygones.”
Hadley had encountered the double-edged sword most of her life. There were those who blamed her for testifying against blood, and there were others who couldn’t stand the sight of a killer’s sister. The latter were the ones who had ostracized her family at every turn.
One thing was for sure, and that was her determination not to bring Mason into the conversation. From the weight of Reed’s stare, she figured he was aware that he’d strayed into unwelcome territory.
“I couldn't sleep last night,” Hadley admitted, reaching down and picking up her backpack. She adjusted the strap over her shoulder, indicating that she was ready to go inside. “I compiled a list of missing persons in Cane County dating back fifty years.”
“That’s quite a research project.” Reed's expression remained carefully neutral. She didn’t like the sound of his wariness of such an analysis of the area, but she had a process when taking on challenging investigations.
The way she worked wouldn’t change just because she might have personal insights into the lives of the witnesses.
“Before Missy, we haven’t had someone go missing in these parts for close to eight years, regardless of what the media would like the public to believe. ”
“Twenty-seven people have gone missing in or around Whistlerun in the past fifty years,” Hadley shared with him, not sugarcoating the facts.
Some cases had been investigated by the county, some by the state.
“Fourteen of the abductions took place during or just before the harvest season. Eight of those fourteen within a half-mile radius of the Cox property.”
Reed absorbed this information in silence, his attention never leaving her face. He patiently drained the rest of his coffee before speaking.
"Are you suggesting that Martin Cox had something to do with nine abductions over the past five decades?” Reed asked cautiously.
His reaction was expected since Martin’s wife had taught them back in high school.
“Hadley, it’s one thing to come into town to gather some information.
It’s another to suspect someone we’ve known for years because of some mere coincidence.
The festival brings thousands of people to this area every year. Statistics—”
“Reed, you’re not listening to what I’m saying,” Hadley said as she stood from the rocking chair.
It was time for her to start work, and she had already wasted precious hours.
“It’s not just numbers or statistics. I believe there’s a pattern.
Someone has been abducting women for years, and they’ve been using the Threshing Man as a distraction. ”