Chapter 16
Hadley Dawkins
The McCarthy family dining room was a showcase of meticulous perfection.
Light from the crystal chandelier delicately reflected on the polished mahogany table, and sterling silver candlesticks, along with a set of fine China, were arranged carefully in a glass-fronted cabinet.
A tiny speck of dust could be seen here and there, but it was clear that appearances mattered more to the family than comfort.
Hadley sat alone on one side of the table, while the three family members occupied the opposite side like a panel at a conference. Father, son, and mother had arranged themselves in a defensive formation that had spoken volumes before a single word had been exchanged between them.
John McCarthy had done his best to dominate the conversation. His red hair was expertly trimmed, his posture perfect, and his eyes never settled on Hadley for more than a few seconds before flicking to his son or the grandfather clock in the corner.
Beside him, Richie slumped slightly in his chair.
However, Hadley didn’t believe it was in defiance.
She truly believed that he was grieving the loss of a friend.
He’d inherited the color of his hair from his father, though it was styled with a more careful casualness that must have taken considerable effort to achieve.
His arms had remained crossed over his chest throughout most of Hadley's questioning.
Olivia McCarthy finished the family portrait.
She sat on the other side of her son with practiced grace.
Her dark bob framed her face, and her makeup was applied so precisely that it was hard to tell where the cosmetics ended and her skin began.
Although the woman mostly listened and observed the discussion, Hadley doubted she missed a single detail.
Thirty minutes of questioning had yielded nothing, much to Hadley’s frustration. If she were honest with herself, her aggravation had more to do with Elijah than the McCarthys.
“Did Missy ever ask you to leave town with her, Richie?”
Hadley had finished with her basic inquiries, so she made the conscious decision to throw the three of them off balance.
This time, John stared at Hadley with confusion, while Olivia didn’t bother to gently steer her son’s answers with a subtle touch of his arm as she had been doing for the past forty minutes.
Richie shifted uncomfortably, his crossed arms tightening further. He glanced quickly at his father, then back to Hadley, uncertainty flashing across his features. He wasn’t comfortable answering her question in front of his parents.
“It's a simple question, Richie,” Hadley pressed gently, maintaining steady eye contact with him. “Did Missy Claymont ever ask you to leave Whistlerun with her?”
The seconds stretched the silence between them. Richie visibly swallowed, his pale skin making the action more noticeable.
“Yes,” Richie finally admitted, avoiding his parents’ displeasing glares. “She was always talking about leaving town, becoming a songwriter and singer. She didn’t want to go alone, though.”
“And your answer was…”
“I said no.” Richie sat a bit straighter in his chair. “I couldn’t just up and leave. I have responsibilities here. College, the family business. I couldn’t abandon everything on some pipe dream.”
John muttered something under his breath about his son having a little common sense. Olivia was still staring at Richie as if she didn’t know her son at all. Before Hadley could pose a follow-up question, the woman shifted sideways in her chair.
“Richie, were you dating the Claymont girl?”
“No,” Richie replied defensively, glaring at his mother. “We were just friends.”
Richie was telling his mother the truth, but Hadley got the distinct impression that he had wished for the opposite. He had cared for Missy very much, but her aspirations kept her focus on one goal—to leave Whistlerun.
“When did Missy ask you?”
“About a month before she disappeared. We were at the lake, just talking, you know? She got really intense about it, said she'd been saving up for almost a year.”
“Did you know that Missy asked the same of Lucas Solomon?” Hadley’s question hit her mark, but she never altered her expression. The very suggestion of Missy spending time with Lucas had triggered some sense of jealousy in the young man. “Did you know that she was taking guitar lessons from him?”
“What are you talking about?” Richie asked with a touch of anger. “Missy would never hang out with someone like Solomon. Whoever told you that is lying.”
“It came from a very reliable source,” Hadley replied, intentionally vague. She shifted direction before John could bring an end to this meeting. “How did Missy come to be part of your friend group, Richie? From what I understand, your backgrounds were quite different.”
“Veronica,” Richie responded with an indifferent shrug.
“Veronica's family came into some money when she was in middle school—her dad patented something for the oil industry. When they moved next door to us, she and Missy were already best friends from school. Veronica never excluded Missy in anything, and we just sort of…well, accepted her.”
“I believe my son has answered enough questions, Detective Dawkins,” John announced without hesitation. He’d wanted to do so for the past fifteen minutes. “Richie knows nothing about Missy Claymont's disappearance. He's told you the same things he told Chief Langley and Sheriff Turner last year.”
“Mr. McCarthy, I understand your concern—”
“Do you?” John interrupted, his voice carrying the practiced smoothness of a businessman accustomed to getting his way.
“My son has cooperated fully with law enforcement from the very beginning.
He's answered your questions about Missy, about the night of the festival, about everything you've asked. What more do you want from him?”
Before Hadley could respond, the doorbell rang, its chime echoing through the house with a musical precision that matched the carefully orchestrated interior. Olivia lifted her chin and offered Hadley the same rehearsed smile she’d had pasted on her face since they exchanged introductions.
“Excuse me,” Olivia murmured, rising from her chair with the fluid grace. As the click of Olivia's heels faded down the hallway, Hadley seized the momentary disruption to lean slightly closer to Richie, ignoring John’s indignant glare.
“Do you believe Missy left town voluntarily?”
“No.” The single syllable carried absolute conviction. His eyes, momentarily unguarded, revealed a depth of distress that his parents pretended didn’t exist. “Missy wouldn't have left town without saying goodbye to me.”
Satisfied with his answers, Hadley pushed back her chair, intending to end the interview.
Before she could stand, voices drifted from the hallway.
Olivia reappeared in the dining room doorway, ushering in a young woman with soft features and wavy light brown hair.
Even from across the room, Hadley caught the way her fingers were worrying the strap of her purse.
“Detective Dawkins, this is Veronica Lane,” Olivia announced as she made the introductions. “I guess she was next on your list to meet this afternoon.”
Veronica came to a stop near Richie. For the first time since he’d taken a seat, he lowered his arms and exchanged smiles with his friend. Her clothing was expensive but understated, which in a way confirmed what Richie had shared about her family's improved circumstances.
“I saw you pull up earlier,” Veronica explained as she directed her statement toward Hadley. “I thought it might be easier if I just came over rather than having you walk next door afterward.”
John McCarthy pushed back from the table, seizing the chance to extract his son from further questioning.
“Well, then,” John said as he stood. “We'll give the two of you some privacy. Take all the time you need.”
Hadley silently observed the couple as Richie followed suit, hesitating at the doorway until his father all but pushed him out of the room. Veronica slowly claimed the chair he had just vacated without glancing back at him.
“Mrs. Claymont called you, didn't she?” Hadley asked, keeping her voice gentle but direct. “Did you come over here so that your parents wouldn’t overhear our conversation?”
Veronica became even more restless, and she set her purse in the chair that Olivia had vacated before leaning her forearms on the table in almost a desperate plea.
“My parents don’t know that I lied for Missy,” Veronica said sheepishly, her eyes filling with tears. “I just…I know they’ll find out eventually, but I head back to campus tonight. I didn’t want to end the weekend with a fight.”
“Veronica, why didn’t you tell Chief Langley or Sheriff Turner?” Hadley asked gently, doing her best to keep any judgment from her tone. “They can’t do their jobs without having all the information.”
“Look, Missy was worried her grandmother wouldn't approve. Mrs. Claymont is older, and she has some pretty strict rules,” Veronica explained, nervously picking at her nails. “When Missy asked me to cover for her, I naturally agreed to help. And it just didn’t seem right to tell her grandmother after everything that happened. Plus, Lucas was performing in Emberwood that night, so he couldn’t have had anything to do with Missy’s disappearance. ”
“Who else knew about Missy’s guitar lessons with Lucas?”
“No one that I know of,” Veronica said as she moved on to another nail. “Missy kept it pretty quiet. She was paranoid her grandmother would find out and ground her.”
Hadley followed up with the same standard questions that she’d posed to Richie, getting pretty much the same responses. Since there were no new revelations, she concentrated on Veronica’s theories.
“Do you think Missy left town on her own?”
“No.” Veronica hadn’t hesitated in giving her opinion. In fact, she shook her head vigorously. “Never. Missy wouldn't have done that without telling me and keeping in touch.”
“Okay, then.” Hadley stood and walked around her chair, tucking it against the table. Veronica remained seated, though. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me, especially on such short notice.”
“Will you...” Veronica paused, glancing down at the damage done to her fingernails. “Will you keep me updated if you find anything? Anything at all about Missy?”
“I will,” Hadley promised, meaning it. She'd seen too many cases where families and friends were left adrift without information, their grief compounded by uncertainty. “You have my word on that.”
Veronica remained seated, and Hadley sensed the slight shift in the young girl’s energy. Hadley didn't speak or press, but simply waited with the patience needed to find out why.
“There's probably nothing to what I’m about to tell you,” Veronica finally said, her voice so quiet that Hadley had to lean forward to catch the words. “But Missy did mention that a friend of Lucas made a pass at her once. After one of her lessons.”
“And does this friend have a name?”
Hadley had spoken by phone to Missy's other friends in the group that night. They were either at college or had moved away from Whistlerun, but nothing stood out in her conversations with them.
“Brock Luepke.” It was obvious that Veronica immediately regretted mentioning him.
Hadley kept to herself that she’d met Mr. Luepke personally last night outside of Gus’ Watering Hole.
“But Brock is harmless, really. Everyone knows he's a flirt. In all honesty, I forgot that it even happened until I saw him driving through town yesterday.”
“Did Missy seem upset by it?”
“Not really. She laughed it off.” Veronica reached for her purse, but again, she didn’t stand. She met Hadley's gaze, and it was clear she wanted to add something else. Hadley offered a slight nod of encouragement. “My dad said you grew up here.”
“I did,” Hadley responded cautiously, not willing to go down memory lane after having already done so with Elijah. “Why?”
“Do you believe in the Threshing Man?” Veronica didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she leaned forward in her chair and whispered aloud what a lot of residents were afraid to ask. “And if you do, what do you think he did with Missy?”