Chapter 29
Hadley Dawkins
Hadley slowed the SUV to a crawl as the paved road gave way to packed dirt. Her tires crunched over loose gravel, the sound amplified in the stillness of the late afternoon. She had never bothered to turn on the radio after ending her call with Ramos.
The dirt path narrowed as she continued forward, branches from overgrown trees scraping against the vehicle's sides as if wanting to stop her from advancing.
After half a mile, she pulled to the side where the trail widened slightly, allowing her to turn around if needed.
She left the engine running, the steady hum providing a comforting backdrop to her disordered thoughts.
Ramos’ theory had taken hold, and she couldn’t shake that he was onto something.
He had ten years more experience than she, along with the fact that he’d worked a serial case about seven years ago.
He’d had the privilege of working with a profiler from the Bureau.
If he believed there was a chance that she had two different suspects, she’d give his opinion serious consideration.
Ramos' theory about Missy’s cell phone also nagged at Hadley.
Sandy Richardson's best friend had mentioned her winning a brown teddy bear from a game at the festival, yet it was never found.
Had she dropped it in the woods at night, it would have been difficult to spot among the dead leaves and debris.
Yet the perp had taken time to find it and take it with him, leaving no trace of Sandy behind.
“Damn it, Ramos,” Hadley muttered as she unfolded the map across her lap. “You would throw a wrench into the case, wouldn’t you?”
She tried to concentrate on the five locations she'd circled in red. Each represented a depression in the land or an area obscured from view. The sun hung low in the western sky, and she maybe had an hour of daylight left.
She switched off the engine, unable to stop the padlocked shed behind the Hobbs’ barn from forming in her mind.
The image had stuck with her. In rural communities like Whistlerun, people rarely bothered securing outbuildings with anything more than a simple latch.
A padlock meant something worth protecting—or concealing.
The sudden silence pressed against her eardrums, broken only by the metallic ticks of the cooling engine. She was wasting daylight, and she could reassess on the drive home. In the meantime, she had enough time to cross at least three areas off her list.
She exited her vehicle, walked around to the back, and opened the rear hatch. She retrieved a heavy-duty flashlight from her emergency kit. She then pulled her cell phone from her pocket, shared her location with Ramos, and quickly texted him that she would call him at six o’clock.
The first site lay between two fenced fields, a shallow depression that could easily have been dismissed as natural erosion.
Hadley approached it with measured steps, scanning the ground for any disturbance that didn't belong.
Tall grass evenly spread out swayed gently in the breeze, revealing nothing beneath.
She knelt, but there was nothing but dirt, rocks, and the occasional root.
Moving to the second location took fifteen minutes of careful navigation through undergrowth. She made a mental note to check for ticks in the shower tonight.
This particular spot, a clearing behind a stand of pine trees, offered more privacy.
Again, Hadley conducted a methodical search, this time walking in expanding circles from the center point she'd marked.
The ground here was harder, packed with pine needles, making it unlikely that anyone had dug here within the last year—or perhaps ever.
The sun dipped lower, blanketing an orange glow across the landscape.
She’d forgotten how beautiful the fields could be in the fall.
The grim purpose of her search had her ignoring nature’s splendor.
She pressed on to the third location, an area near an old fence line where the land created a natural hollow.
As she approached, a crow took flight from a nearby tree, its harsh cry cutting through the stillness.
The hollow appeared untouched, with vegetation growing evenly across its surface.
No signs of digging, no unusual patterns in the plant growth.
Nothing to suggest that bodies had been buried beneath.
Hadley checked the time. She could squeeze in one more site that had caught her interest. It would mean walking back to the SUV in the dark, but she always made sure her emergency bag was kept up-to-date. The batteries in the flashlight were fresh.
She finally reached the fourth location, a secluded spot behind some abandoned pieces of farm equipment. Shadows lengthened around her, turning familiar shapes into unnerving silhouettes. She’d timed it a few minutes too short. Switching on her flashlight, she swept the beam across the ground.
The light caught on something reflective, but it was nothing more than a discarded beer can. She moved it aside with the toe of her boot, examining the faded label. The can was old.
The air had cooled considerably in the past five minutes, carrying with it the scent of damp soil and vegetation. Still nothing, though. No disturbed earth, no unlikely objects, nothing to suggest this spot harbored the remains of those young girls.
Darkness had now settled around her.
The fifth location, the most remote of her marked spots, would have to wait until tomorrow. Pushing through unfamiliar terrain in the dark was a risk she couldn't justify taking, especially alone.
As she began to retrace her steps, Hadley reviewed the possible scenarios.
There was a good chance none of them would pan out.
As Elijah mentioned the other day, these were people she’d known all her life.
While the Dawkins hadn’t been close to the Hobbs, both families had resided in Whistlerun for decades.
Being away from it all for over a decade had given Hadley a new perspective, though.
What did any of them really know about each other?
A lot of farmers and families kept to themselves.
While some drove into town for groceries or a beer at Gus’ place, others were more prone to only drive through to pick up their mail at the post office.
A smile or a wave could just be masks for something more evil lurking underneath.
She kept her pace steady despite the growing unease settling between her shoulder blades. Why was it that darkness brought out one’s irrational thoughts? Bad things happened all the time during the day, yet logic still managed to go out the window after nightfall.
To push aside her growing uneasiness of being in the middle of nowhere by herself, she pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen's glow was harsh against the surrounding darkness. She pressed Ramos’ name and pressed the phone against her ear.
While she waited for him to answer, the moonlight became brighter. She peered up at the sky, relaxing somewhat now that the thin clouds overhead had made way for the moonlight.
“You meet the Threshing Man yet?”
“Very funny,” Hadley muttered, not willing to admit that his voice provided an unexpected comfort in the isolation of the fields.
“Four of the five locations have been checked off the list. I’ll drive out here first thing tomorrow morning to check the fifth, before Allen Hobbs can rescind his wife’s permission. ”
“You do realize that there are many other places to bury eight bodies on two hundred acres, right? And if Missy is still alive, none of those areas would even stand out to you.”
“Which is why I’m stopping in at the department on the way home. I’m going to—” Hadley caught herself from falling when she inadvertently stepped into a divot. “Damn it.”
“Everything okay?”
“Not watching where I’m going, apparently.” Hadley realized that she had carelessly quickened her pace. She intentionally slowed her stride so she wouldn’t end up twisting her ankle. “I’m fine. As I was saying, I’m going to borrow the department’s drone. Maybe I can pick up something that way.”
“I’m still at the station, so I can check it out for you.”
“I appreciate it. That will save me time.” Hadley was now walking alongside the Hobbs’ property line. The rows of cornstalk remnants on their neighbor’s land rustled in the breeze, creating a whispering chorus that seemed to follow her movements. “I’ll be on the road soon. Thanks, Ramos.”
Hadley disconnected the call before sliding her cell phone into her pocket. The moon was no longer covered by the thin wisps of clouds moving east. Fortunately, the moonlight cast everything in a silvery glow, giving her additional light on the way to her SUV.
Another ten minutes of empty fields to her right, patches of trees here and there, she finally reached the end of the neighbor’s cornfields. The crickets had only gotten louder, but they couldn’t drown out the two owls continually asking their endless questions.
A sudden rustling to her left made her swing the flashlight toward the sound, her other hand instinctively moving to her weapon. The beam caught movement in a patch of thicket between properties, revealing nothing at first.
She stood perfectly still.
The owls stopped questioning, and the crickets halted their song.
What bothered Hadley the most was how the fields had become quiet.
"They say the Threshing Man comes when the fields go quiet. When the air smells like rot and the sky goes copper. He doesn’t reap what’s sown—he takes what’s owed."
Haley wished more than anything right now that she could erase those words from her mind.
The sound suddenly came again.
Something was moving through the undergrowth, larger than a rabbit or raccoon. She held her position, flashlight steady, as a doe finally emerged from the thicket. The animal froze in the beam, eyes reflecting the light with an eerie glow before quickly bounding away in a series of graceful leaps.
Hadley ever so slowly released the breath she was holding as she tracked the deer's escape path with her light.
The doe eventually disappeared into the darkness beyond the property line.
As another breeze rustled the trees, a faint glint appeared in the far distance between a grove of tall pines.
As the wind settled and the crickets began to sing once more, the glimmer was snuffed out as if it had never existed.
Hadley peered over her shoulder, the moonlight shining down on the cornfield she’d already walked past. She’d studied the map long enough to know there were no structures or outhouses out this way.
Was someone passing through the area?
One of the reasons she considered the Hobbs brothers as viable suspects was the location of their land. Three properties basically intersected at a point, and one of those farms belonged to Martin Cox.
Pulling the map from her pocket, she unfolded it awkwardly while maintaining her grip on the flashlight. She traced the property lines with her finger, confirming what she already suspected—there was no barn or any other structure marked in that location.
While Hadley refolded the map, she lifted her gaze and searched for the light again. She waited patiently for the breeze to pick up and…there it was again.
A thin sliver of light.
Hadley moved in that direction, attempting to keep a bead on the faint glint. Curiosity got the best of her. The ground became increasingly uneven as she crossed over the property line, causing her difficulty in finding purchase on the uneven ground.
She contemplated whether she should turn off her flashlight. If someone was out there somewhere, she didn’t want them to know of her presence. On the other hand, the tall pines shielded the moonlight, leaving her in near-total darkness.
After a few minutes of walking, Hadley paused and swept her flashlight across the tangled vegetation.
She hadn’t caught sight of the pinprick of light since she’d entered the small patch of woods.
She finally turned off her flashlight and patiently waited.
It wasn’t until a larger breeze was able to sway the pines back and forth that she realized what had been there the entire time.
The sliver of light ran vertically, as if escaping through a set of curtains. Cautiously moving forward, she didn’t stop until she could make out the shadowy outline of a small cabin nestled among the tall pines.
Hadley had a decision to make.
The cabin was located approximately fifty yards beyond the Hobbs property line.
No vehicle was visible, not that she had any idea how one could get through the trees.
Her vision had adjusted enough to make out something near the side, and she could only guess that it was a tarp covering some firewood.
There didn’t seem to be ‘no trespassing’ signs, but this was indeed private property.
She thought of Reed, of the journals that now existed only as ash. He’d trusted someone…a local who had grown up in Whistlerun. Ramos’ theory pointed to the Hobbs, but what if they were wrong? What if one simple check around the cabin could prove otherwise?