Chapter 17
Hadley Dawkins
The SUV’s headlights carved a tunnel through the darkness, making the narrow country road appear even more tapered as the edges continually disappeared into shadow.
Dense pine and oak trees crowded both sides of the pavement, and their branches created a canopy that blocked most of the night sky.
Occasionally, heat lightning flashed somewhere above the treeline, briefly painting the road in an orange tint before surrendering once more to the darkness.
Hadley took another bite of her lukewarm grilled cheese sandwich, the rich flavors of cheddar cheese and butter a comfort she hadn’t had in over a decade. She’d had many over the years, but not from the Blue Plate Diner.
The sandwich, wrapped in parchment paper by the waitress, had been an afterthought.
Hadley hadn't realized how many hours had passed since breakfast until her stomach protested loudly enough to interrupt her conversation with the mayor’s assistant, who had been at the festival the night Missy disappeared.
Since Hadley had needed to speak with the diner staff due to Missy’s summer part-time job, Hadley had taken advantage of the interviews and placed a to-go order.
While waiting for her dinner, she’d spoken to Shirley Burns, a waitress who had graduated from Whistlerun High a few years ahead of Hadley.
Shirley and the other server had been quick to share some details about Missy Claymont.
‘Sweet girl’ and ‘always polite’ had been their standard phrases, imparted several times over the course of the conversation.
When pressed about Missy's demeanor in the weeks before her disappearance, Shirley had simply shrugged and expressed her opinion that everything seemed status quo.
The two had never really socialized outside of work.
A piece of the crust fell off her sandwich, and she heard it hit the parchment paper in her lap.
She didn’t take her attention off the road, though.
There was an upcoming sharp curve, and she eased into it, searching for the reflective eyes of deer or other nocturnal creatures that might dart into her path.
Once the road was on a more straightforward path, she took another bite of her sandwich.
The day had yielded frustratingly little concrete information, with the exception of Brock Luepke.
Hadley would have stopped in at the police station to speak with Reed, but his truck hadn’t been parked in its usual spot.
His cruiser, on the other hand, had been pulled into the small driveway to the left of the house.
Hadley figured Reed and Nora were spending their day off together, and she didn’t want to interfere with their evening plans.
Besides, she needed time to organize her thoughts on the direction of the investigation.
She finished off half her sandwich before reaching for the napkins she’d tossed onto the passenger seat.
There was one thing that troubled her regarding how easily Missy had been able to hide her guitar lessons with Lucas.
Brock had obviously known, but in a town where everyone knew everyone else's business, how had she managed to keep her meetings with Lucas so hush-hush?
And more importantly, if she could hide something as innocent as music lessons, what else might she have concealed?
Again, Hadley’s thoughts circled back to Brock Luepke. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, though. Tomorrow, she would venture onto the festival grounds. There was a good chance some of the carnies who had worked the night Missy disappeared were still employed by the organization.
Carnival workers, food vendors, security personnel…
anyone who might have noticed something out of the ordinary.
While such interviews had been conducted a year ago, Hadley had learned that asking the same questions a second time, especially after memories had settled, sometimes yielded different answers.
She had just pulled back the other half of the parchment paper to pick up the second half of her sandwich when the music from her Spotify list was interrupted by an incoming call.
She checked her speed, easing off the gas slightly while she glanced at the console for a name.
Only one wasn’t associated with the caller.
Using the napkin one more time to wipe the grease from her fingers, she then pressed the steering wheel button to take the call.
“Dawkins.”
“Detective Dawkins? This is Nora Oliver.” The woman's voice came through the car speakers. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if Reed is with you?”
Hadley once again eased off the accelerator, an unconscious response to the unexpected question. The speedometer needle drifted downward even more as she glanced in her rearview mirror. There was a car about a quarter mile behind her, so she picked up and maintained a constant speed.
“No, I’m sorry,” Hadley replied, curiosity getting the better of her. She couldn’t help but wonder how Nora had gotten her number. “He’s not with me. Is everything okay?”
A long pause followed her question before Nora’s shaky exhale amplified her concern.
“I don't know. We had dinner plans at five o'clock. I went to the store to pick up some celery, but he wasn’t home when I got back. I didn’t think anything of it, but by the time I took out the roast…” Nora allowed her words to trail off, a faint tremor audible in her voice.
“I came back downstairs, thinking maybe he’d left me a note, but there was nothing.
His phone goes straight to voicemail, which never happens.
It's been over two hours now, and I’m really worried that something has happened. ”
Hadley placed her half-eaten sandwich in its wrapper on the passenger seat. She then flicked on her turn signal, checking the rearview mirror for the distance between her and the other vehicle. She pulled off the side to allow the car to pass without issue.
“In all likelihood, Reed probably went out on a call,” Hadley surmised as she let the engine idle. “Service is spotty in some of the—”
“Reed is the most reliable person I know,” Nora exclaimed, frustration building in her tone. “If he says he'll be somewhere at five, he's there at four forty-five. If his plans change, he calls. Always.”
“All I’m saying is that he could have lost track of time following up on something. He might even have a flat tire on one of the back roads that—”
“Don't patronize me,” Nora snapped with her unmistakable fear. “Reed doesn't lose track of time. He doesn't forget to charge his phone. And he certainly doesn't stand me up for dinner without calling. He also took the truck, not his cruiser.”
Nora’s words had tumbled out in a rush. Hadley pressed her lips together, restraining the automatic reassurances that clearly weren’t helping the situation. Platitudes weren’t welcome when Nora was so upset, and the only way to calm her down was for Reed to walk into the house safe and sound.
“What was Reed doing when you left for the store?” Hadley asked as she spotted another set of headlights in her rearview mirror. She activated her hazard lights so they would know she was at a standstill. “Was he talking with someone on the phone? Did he mention getting a call from anyone?”
“He was reading those journals you gave him,” Nora replied, a door slamming in the background. “He’d been at it for hours, too.”
The mention of Sarah Cox’s journals had Hadley sitting a bit straighter. Reed had promised to review them. She hadn’t been able to locate anything of significance, but she’d only read the entries in the days leading up to and after the eight disappearances.
Had Reed found something of interest? Something significant enough to make him leave without an explanation? Hadley brushed aside those thoughts. Surely, Reed would have reached out to her if that was the case.
“Look, I’m going to drive around town,” Nora shared before Hadley could ask questions about the journals. “If I can’t locate him or his truck, I’m calling Sheriff Turner.”
Hadley stared ahead at the brake lights of the vehicle that had passed a few seconds ago. She was maybe twenty miles from the ramp to the highway that would take her another hour to her apartment.
“Nora, I'm turning around.” Hadley had made her decision, and she pressed the button to deactivate her hazard lights. “I'll be back in Whistlerun in about twenty minutes.”
Nora ended the call by promising to call if she located Reed. When Hadley checked her side mirror, the road behind her remained empty. She pressed the gas pedal slightly, easing the Equinox back onto the road before completing her U-turn.
Once she was cruising at a good clip, she used the steering wheel controls to scroll through her contacts. She found Reed's name and number, which she'd stored on Friday, and pressed the call button.
No ring was initiated, just an automated voicemail message confirming Nora's claim. Reed's phone was either turned off or the battery was dead. While both of those theories were equally concerning, several areas in and around Whistlerun didn’t have cell service.
Hadley didn’t bother to leave a message.
She ended the call, resisting the urge to press on the accelerator.
She could easily push the speedometer needle past the posted limit, but she didn’t want to risk getting into an accident.
While the road was familiar enough, wildlife was more active this time of year due to their preparation for the winter.
There had to be a reasonable explanation for Reed’s absence. Granted, she’d known him as a teenager, but people didn’t change in their core. He would never have gone into a situation blind.
Unless, of course, he trusted the individual.
Hadley pressed a hand to her chest, wishing she hadn’t ordered takeout from the diner.
A slight twist of nausea had made itself known, and now she couldn’t prevent the tension in her shoulders from building with every mile marker she passed.
After all, she’d witnessed firsthand how misplaced faith in the wrong person could cause irreparable damage.