Chapter 35
Hadley Dawkins
The last photograph on the board was Missy Claymont's senior picture. The photographer had somehow managed to encapsulate a single moment that could never be recaptured, somehow succeeding in preserving a glint in Missy’s hazel eyes that suggested mischief or maybe just hope.
This was a young woman who believed her life was just beginning, not yet knowing how little of it remained.
Hadley carefully pulled the final strip of tape off the back before studying the glossy print.
She eventually placed it into the cardboard box atop the seven other pictures, each one representing a life cut short by Emanuel Telfort's twisted desire for companionship.
The case was closed from an investigative standpoint, his son was in custody, and the townsfolk were left to pick up the pieces.
The state forensics team was still on the Telfort property, excavating the horrors from the soil.
Blue tents had been set up, shielding the burial sites from prying eyes and drone cameras.
It would take weeks to sift, catalog, and run DNA analysis before they could match bones to names…
before families could finally bring their daughters home.
Hadley turned back to the whiteboard, causing the worn floorboards to protest as she shifted her weight. A subtle reminder that Reed would never finish the renovations. It was as if the house itself was mourning his loss.
She reached for the dry eraser through a morning ray of sunshine, disturbing the dust motes floating inside the golden beam.
Swiping back and forth, she continued the motion until all the black lines that had connected the victims began to disappear.
She had just finished obliterating the final red line when the front door opened.
The hinges needed oil, their objection audible even from across the room. Another task that Reed would never check off his list. She peered over her shoulder to find Warren Caldwell closing the door behind him.
“I was glad to see your SUV out front,” Warren said as he approached her. “I was hoping to have a minute to speak with you privately.”
Hadley set the eraser on the small, thin tray.
“I was just packing up some files,” Hadley replied, inspecting the whiteboard one last time. When she was satisfied with her results, she turned to face the mayor. “I’m surprised you’re not down at the festival this morning.”
“Actually, that’s where I was headed when I saw that you were still in town.” Warren cleared his throat and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to thank you personally. For solving the case. For saving Missy.”
“I'm not sure I saved anyone.”
“You brought her home. That’s what counts.”
“I spoke with Amelia this morning.” Hadley picked up the cardboard lid. “Missy still hasn't spoken a word since we found her. The doctors say it could be months, maybe years, before she fully processes what happened to her. Maybe never.”
Hadley flipped the lid in her hands.
“That's not saving someone, Warren. That's retrieving what's left.”
He seemed to consider her words before walking around Reed's desk. Warren drew back the curtain until he was able to gaze out at Main Street. The morning sun was not kind to his aging skin.
“I hear Mason’s release papers are being processed, and he should be returning home within a week.”
Hadley wasn’t going to discuss her brother with the mayor.
She flipped the lid once more before settling it on top of the box.
Warren didn’t need to know that she had intended to drive out to the prison this morning, only to find herself pulling into Reed’s parking space instead. She couldn't face her brother just yet.
The weight of what she'd done, of what she'd taken from him, threatened to press down on her until she suffocated to death.
Which was why she had put in for some personal leave.
She would take the days given to her to get the house ready for him.
New appliances were already scheduled for delivery tomorrow.
Once everything was in place, she would leave the key under a brand-new welcome mat.
“Have you spoken with Allen or Ty Hobbs?” Hadley asked, deliberately steering the conversation away from Mason.
“Ty's healing. Physically, at least. The doctors say there's no permanent damage from the concussion.” Warren turned away from the view, his gaze seeking hers.
“I spoke with Turner. The forensics team has identified another burial site using ground-penetrating radar. They believe there might be more than our seven known victims.”
Warren rubbed his chin in frustration.
“All these years. Right under our noses.”
Hadley didn't respond immediately. They all shared this responsibility—the entire town did. They'd allowed an urban legend to explain away the disappearances of young women. They'd chosen to believe in the Threshing Man rather than look too closely at their neighbors.
It was easier that way.
Safer.
Hadley collected her purse from where she'd set it in the chair. Her phone and keys were inside, ready for her departure. She’d already placed the station key on Reed's desk.
“I’ll get right to it, Hadley. The town council has been discussing the police chief position,” Warren announced before taking a step toward her.
His tone had shifted between sentences, the practiced authority of the mayor returning to his voice.
“We’ve all agreed that we need continuity right now. Stability.”
“I take it that Elijah will be resuming his duties?”
“No. We need new leadership,” Warren said, his chin lifting slightly as he assumed the formal bearing that had won him three terms as mayor. “We’d like to offer you the position, Hadley. Officially.”
A startled laugh escaped her before she could contain it. It soon faded when he didn’t join in.
“Warren, I have a job.”
“You also have wounds that need healing.” Warren's expression remained unchanged, no hint of humor in his eyes. “This town needs healing, and we need someone who understands both what we've been through and what needs to change.”
“You said yourself that Sheriff Turner—”
“I know what I said, Hadley. I also recall your thoughts on the subject. Turner has an entire county to manage,” Warren cut in smoothly.
“Five towns. And we both know Whistlerun is the black sheep.
This town needs someone whose sole focus is this community.
Someone who's proven they'll pursue the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. That person is you.”
Hadley shook her head, unable to process what she was hearing. She didn’t belong here, and no one wanted her here, especially Mason.
“Warren, I think it best that you allow Sheriff Turner to—”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Reed's killer is still out there.”
“We don’t know that,” Hadley countered sharply. “Kalen could be—”
“Don’t give me that song and dance. You know as well as I do that kid didn’t get the upper hand on Reed. I’m ordering the investigation into his death to stay open. Who better to pursue that than you?”
Warren was using Reed as leverage, and she didn’t appreciate the mayor’s tactics. Before she could verbalize her displeasure, a soft thud startled her. She turned to find that the dry-eraser had fallen to the floor.
Hadley stared at the office item for so long that Warren muttered something about how he’d get it for her.
She cut him off, carefully setting her purse down on top of the box.
How many times had she dismissed urban legends and the residents’ belief in the supernatural?
And how many times had Reed countered her claim?
“Just because you can’t measure something, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“Hadley?”
Warren’s voice prompted Hadley to stand with the eraser in hand. She placed it back onto the thin tray, taking the sign for what it was worth.
“I need time to think about your offer.”
Hadley kept her voice steady despite the turmoil beneath. She didn’t want to give Warren the advantage. What he was asking of her would change every aspect of her life, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to face those changes.
For so long, she'd defined home as something to escape from, a place filled with painful memories and unfulfilled potential. But standing here, surrounded by the ghosts of the past and the unfinished business of the present, she wasn't so certain anymore.
“I can give you until the end of next week.”
“That will do just fine,” Hadley agreed despite her misgivings. “I’ll be in touch.”
Warren tapped Reed’s desk in satisfaction. She observed the mayor’s departure, not surprised in the least when he stopped shy of crossing the threshold. He held onto the doorknob as he met her gaze. He always did have to push his luck.
“It's time, Hadley. It’s time for you to come home.”
~ The End ~
In Cane County, some secrets get buried so deep they start to look like roots. And some roots, if you pull hard enough, bring the whole tree down.
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Hadley Dawkins never wanted to come home.
But when the town offers her the badge of Reed Langley, the boy she left behind who became the man someone murdered, she takes it.
She takes it because her brother has finally been released from prison after nearly twenty years for a crime he didn't commit, and she owes him something she doesn't have words for yet.
And maybe, if she's honest with herself, she takes it because she's spent twenty years running and she's tired.
Mason is free, but freedom and innocence aren't the same thing.
Not in Cane County. Hadley is trying to learn her brother again, who he is now, what the years made of him, whether the distance between them is something that can be closed or just something they'll have to live with.
It isn't easy. Neither is wearing a dead man's badge in a town where the Dawkins name has never sat right.
And someone doesn't like how close she's getting to the truth about Reed.
They've been careful and patient. But desperation has a way of making careful people reckless. Hadley came back to Cane County to make things right, but someone intends to make sure she doesn't get the chance.
“The Threshing Man doesn’t chase you into the field. He waits for you to walk in on your own. He’s patient. He was there when your people were born here, and he’ll be there when they put you in the ground.”