Chapter 25
Hadley Dawkins
There was a hollowness inside the police station that seemed to have a life of its own.
It had invaded every corner and every room, only broken into the smallest of pieces by the furniture and items collected over the years.
The hands of the black-and-white clock above Reed’s desk ticked away like a pulsing heartbeat.
It was as if the tiny hands were in a relentless pursuit of a future that he would never get to experience.
Pearl Shepley.
Melissa Harding.
Catherine Bell.
Diane Maxwell.
Elizabeth Hanover.
Emily Esten.
Sandy Richardson.
Missy Claymont.
Hadley picked up the antacid and placed it on her tongue. As she chewed, she pressed her fingertips against her closed eyelids until spots of color burst behind them.
What had Reed discovered in those journals?
After she opened her eyes, it took a moment for her vision to focus. Red lines connected possible points of contact between the victims. Blue lines marked festival dates. Green showed the movements between families and friends.
Yet there was still something missing.
Something Reed had discovered in Sarah’s entries.
Hadley had spent Saturday evening and all of yesterday reading through the remaining leather-bound books. There was nothing left for her to read. Nothing for her to grasp onto.
Her cell phone vibrated against the desk surface.
She glanced at the screen, confirming her guess that Nick was attempting to reach her again. It was his fifth call since last week’s press conference. She intentionally diverted him to her voicemail.
She would eventually need to speak with him after the message she left him following Reed’s funeral.
She’d given her word to Warren that she would come clean with Nick about the agreed-upon diversion of the press, and she’d kept her promise.
Granted, a message wasn’t the same as confessing in person, but it had gotten the job done.
Unfortunately, the story of her return had faded, and in its place were theories connecting Reed’s death to Missy Claymont’s disappearance. Any advantage Hadley had vanished with the latest headlines.
She lowered her gaze to the floral boxes of journals.
If Sarah had documented something strange, she would have mentioned it to her husband.
While he stated he couldn’t remember anything that stood out, Hadley needed to somehow jog his memory.
Collecting her keys and phone, she stood and walked around the desk.
Before she could cross the remainder of the room, the front door swung open.
Hadley thought maybe Nick’s patience had worn thin, or the mayor didn’t want to wait for another update, but she wasn’t expecting a woman to enter the station. A woman who seemed vaguely familiar.
“Hi, Hadley. It’s been a long time.”
Hadley would know that raspy voice anywhere.
Charlotte Nesbit no longer wore her long blonde hair down around her shoulders, sported heavy eyeliner, or wore bold colors like she did in high school.
She stood near the front door of the station with practiced poise, a pastel blouse beneath a beige cardigan, and her honey-blonde hair cut into a soft bob layered around her face.
It was the designer leather purse that told Hadley some things hadn’t changed about her high school adversary.
“Charlotte,” Hadley greeted, unsure of the reason behind the woman’s visit.
The years had definitely refined her features, softening the sharp edges of the girl who'd once ruled the social hierarchy of Whistlerun High. “The mayor has yet to appoint another police chief, but I can give you the number to the sheriff’s office if—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Charlotte readjusted the strap of her purse in unease. “Actually, I'm here for Nora. You probably didn’t know this, but she's my cousin. She asked if I could pick up some personal items from Reed's apartment upstairs. She just couldn’t bring herself to come here yet.”
The relation between the two women shouldn’t have come as a shock. It was just another strand of the intricate web of connections that defined small-town life. In Whistlerun, no one was ever truly a stranger, merely a relation one hadn't placed yet.
“Of course,” Hadley said, gesturing toward the narrow staircase to their right. “I was on my way out anyway.”
“I appreciate it,” Charlotte replied, not making any move toward the staircase. She hesitated briefly before continuing, “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been in town, but you and Reed dated all through high school. I can’t imagine this has been easy on you, either.”
Hadley wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she passed the time by sliding her cell phone into the pocket of her blazer. When she glanced back at Charlotte, she was rubbing the left side of her jaw.
“It’s still sore after all these years, you know,” Charlotte stated with a wry smile.
Hadley could still hear the sound of her fist connecting with Charlotte’s jaw at their senior prom. The satisfying crack of her knuckles, the surprised gasps, and the following cheers that erupted hadn’t been sought after. Hadley’s actions had merely been involuntary.
“I never did apologize for that right hook.”
“Don't.” Charlotte waved away the unspoken apology with a flick of her manicured fingers. “I deserved it. The things I said to you that night after you won prom queen over me...well, they were cruel. What can I say? Teenage jealousy at its finest.”
“I wasn't even on the ballot for prom queen,” Hadley reminded her, not knowing why she still had the urge to justify her reaction. “There was nothing for you to be jealous about.”
“Seriously?” Charlotte tilted her head, genuine surprise crossing her features. “You didn't know that Reed added your name to the list at the last minute? He convinced half the football team to vote for you.”
“No, he never said a word.”
“Well, he was determined that you would win that crown,” Charlotte said, her eyes reflecting a distant memory. “I never had someone so devoted to me the way he was to you, Hadley. So, I guess it’s me who owes you the apology.”
Hadley swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. She’d known that she had friends who cared about her back then, but she had been determined to start fresh somewhere else.
To not be the daughter of two alcoholics.
To not be the sister of a murderer.
“Leave it to Reed to draw the biggest crowd at his funeral, though,” Charlotte said as her eyes filled with tears. She averted her gaze to the ceiling while blinking them away. “I've never seen one so large in Whistlerun. Everyone, and I mean everyone, came to pay their respects.”
Elijah had said something similar the other day. The perspective had bothered Hadley then, and Charlotte’s words bothered her now. She thought back to the funeral, to the faces of those gathered around the gravesite.
Not everyone had been at the funeral.
One notable absence suddenly gained significance in her mind.
“Charlotte, do you know Ty Hobbs?”
“Of course. That poor boy has been through so much in his life. Losing his mother during childbirth, raised by a strict father who passed away last year in a farming accident. Yet he never allows anyone to feel sorry for him.” Charlotte frowned, as if the same thought that occurred to Hadley occurred to her.
“That’s odd. I don’t recall him being at the funeral. ”
“Charlotte, I need to go,” Hadley exclaimed as she brushed past her on the way to the door. “Do me a favor, though. Lock up when you’re done upstairs.”
“Of course. And Hadley?” Charlotte waited for Hadley to stop. “It really is good seeing you, even under these circumstances. I’m sorry that I wasn’t nicer to you back then.”
Hadley nodded, uncertain of what kind of response Charlotte was looking for.
They hadn't really been friends, not because they were part of different social groups—Whistlerun was too small for that—but because unseen boundaries had been established around cafeteria tables and at weekend bonfires, where invitations sometimes weren’t mentioned around some others.
“No worries, Charlotte. We both could have been nicer,” Hadley conceded, recalling a time or two when she didn’t have very nice things to say, either. “And please, don’t forget to lock up.”
Hadley exited the station, surprised to find that she’d fallen into the old habit of trusting others. Hadn’t she given that very same lecture to Elijah twice since she’d been in town?
Trusting one’s neighbor was instinctual around these parts, and maybe that was why Ty’s friends had been so understanding of his absence last Thursday. But she couldn’t help but wonder…what would have caused such a well-mannered young man to miss the funeral of the town’s beloved police chief?