Chapter 9
Hadley Dawkins
Hadley turned her Equinox onto Magnolia at the corner where downtown Emberwood began to resemble a town more than a stretch of strip malls.
She pressed the steering wheel button to turn up the volume on the speakers.
Having been on hold with the community college’s administrative department for most of the drive, she began to wonder if the woman who had answered the phone had forgotten she’d taken the call.
“Chief Dawkins? Thank you so much for holding,” Linda said over what seemed like several conversations at once. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”
“No worries,” Hadley replied with reassurance as she slowed for a four-way stop. She motioned for a delivery van to go ahead of her at the intersection before she rolled forward. “Were you able to locate Mr. Mercer’s schedule?”
“Yes, and it looks as if Mr. Mercer doesn’t have a class until ten o’clock this morning. He typically arrives on campus around an hour beforehand. Would you like me to connect you to his direct line so you can leave him a message?”
“That won’t be necessary, Linda,” Hadley replied, doing some quick math on the time she had to kill. “I appreciate the information.”
“Have a good day, Chief,” Linda said warmly, the line disconnecting shortly thereafter.
Hadley had thirty minutes and was literally less than a mile from campus, which gave her enough time to pick up a coffee.
She peered through the windshield, recalling a small café somewhere along this stretch, tucked between a flower shop and an insurance office. She finally spotted the hanging sign.
Fortunately, the parking gods were in her favor this morning. A car was easing out of a slot just past her newfound destination, and she braked to wait, allowing the driver to clear the space before she pulled her front tires to a stop at the curb.
She made the impulsive decision to pick up two coffees as she stepped out of her SUV.
The sheriff’s office sat about a block down on the same side of the street, and she’d learned in the last year that Nick had a standing fondness for any coffee that wasn’t brewed at his station.
She swore that he stopped in on her in Whistlerun at least once a week just so that he could enjoy the Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee beans she had delivered to her address every month.
Hadley had been meaning to brief Nick on what she had found in Reed’s desk, anyway.
She also wanted to inquire about the topic that Mason had brought up last night.
She’d gone through her own memory of the evidence log from the previous fall, and she couldn’t recall a trench coat being among the items. Burlap bags, yellow twine, and several chains and cuffs had been recorded into evidence, but no trench coat.
Why hadn’t she thought that odd at the time?
Walking over to the station with a coffee in hand would pave the way for her inquiries, though Nick wasn’t going to be pleased when he heard about the specifics of the citation.
He was, in fact, going to be extremely displeased when he learned that his late colleague in the next town over had been quietly pressured by a politician into burying a crime.
She might just start out their conversation about the chain of evidence in the Telfort case.
Nick didn’t bend the law for personal favors, and he had little patience for those who did under the label of small-town kindness.
Warren’s request and Reed’s quiet compliance on the matter were the kinds of things Nick would want to hear directly from her.
Hadley intended to lay both out for him before she left Emberwood today.
The bell above the coffee shop door rang as Hadley stepped inside.
She didn’t carry a purse when on duty. Given how many hours she spent driving the back roads of Whistlerun, speaking with residents, and sometimes even herding roaming dairy cows, it had been easier to buy a thin phone case that kept her personal identification and credit cards tucked inside.
She kept hold of her phone while sliding her keys into the right-hand side pocket of her blazer.
The café wasn’t large and had a quaint sense about the interior, with exposed brick along one wall and a chalkboard menu above the counter.
The smell of espresso and something cinnamon wafted from somewhere near the back.
Six or seven small tables were scattered through the room, most of them occupied by people working on laptops or reading from their phones.
Hadley stood in line behind a man in a suit who was talking quietly into his Bluetooth.
When it was her turn to order, she requested two large black coffees.
She stepped to the side of the counter to wait, and her attention veered to a plastic container of ChapSticks beside the register.
She pressed her lips together. The cooler weather sliding into Cane County over the next few weeks would have them cracked and peeling long before winter.
She was running low on the tube she kept in her console, so she made a mental note to stock up on them soon.
“Hadley?”
The voice came from one of the tables in a corner, behind where a three-shelf unit displayed various travel mugs.
Hadley didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to, and she internally winced at the thought of the upcoming conversation.
She forced herself to turn anyway, not really having any other option.
Nora Oliver was sitting at a table near the window with another woman, both in workout clothes, with two empty cups on the table. Nora had her purse already over her shoulder and a water bottle in her hand. She had the posture of a woman who had been about to stand up.
“Nora,” Hadley said warmly, crossing the small distance between the counter and the table. “It’s good to see you.”
Hadley wasn’t exactly being truthful, but greetings were typically used as a sign of respect. She gave herself a pass.
Nora had been Reed’s fiancée, the two of them only months out from their wedding when he’d been killed. There was no good script for standing in front of the woman who had been going to marry the man Hadley once dated, especially when she was the one investigating his murder.
“You, too.” Nora didn’t quite smile. She had lost weight in the eleven months since the funeral, and the loss appeared to have taken some of the softness from her face.
It didn’t help that her auburn hair had been pulled back in a scrunchie, accentuating the slight hollowness of her cheekbones. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has,” Hadley replied, noticing her friend’s assessing stare. “How have you been?”
“I’m getting by, still working at the hospital. I find it’s best to stay busy.” Nora didn’t waste any time, and Hadley understood the underlying desperate need for answers. “Is there anything new on the case?”
Nora’s inquiry had been expected, but it wasn’t as if Hadley could explain her gut instinct over a simple trespassing citation. She made the snap decision to keep her response vague.
“I’m in town this morning to update Sheriff Turner on a few things.” Hadley heard the barista call her name. “Nothing concrete, though.”
Nora’s posture changed. It was a small motion, but still noticeable, nonetheless.
“A new development, then?” Nora asked cautiously, but it was the woman sitting across from her who narrowed her eyes at the question.
“You must be the ex-girlfriend,” the woman stated abruptly, not bothering to hide her opinion of Hadley.
“Whitney.” Nora’s voice came out sharper than she probably intended, the embarrassment already coloring her cheeks. “That’s not necessary.”
“It’s all right, Nora,” Hadley said evenly, taking in the woman’s appearance.
Late twenties or early thirties. Blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.
The kind of expensive workout outfit that was meant to display a toned body.
She had manicured nails and wore a fitness watch around her left wrist. A large diamond sat on the ring finger of that same hand, the band turned slightly so the stone rode toward her knuckle. “And you are?”
“Hadley, this is Whitney Dohl,” Nora cut in to appease any hurt feelings. “She’s a friend of mine from the hospital. Whitney, this is Chief Hadley Dawkins.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dohl.” Hadley politely extended her hand across the table. Whitney took it, the shake firm and brief, but not before a slight hesitation.
“Likewise,” Whitney murmured before settling back into her chair. “I apologize if that came out wrong, Chief Dawkins. I tend to be protective of my friends.”
“It came out fine, actually,” Hadley responded in kind. “Yes, Reed and I dated in high school. He was a good man, and I was glad to know he’d found someone to spend the rest of his life with. I’m sorry for what happened, and I truly hope that someday I can give Nora the answers she deserves.”
Whitney had the decency to avert her gaze. Nora’s eyes filled briefly, though she quickly blinked her tears away. Once she’d composed herself, she shifted the strap of her purse on her shoulder before standing from the table.
“I should get to work,” Nora murmured, reaching in front of Hadley to toss her empty cup into the trash bin. “My shift starts at nine, and I still have to swing by my apartment to change.”
“I’ll call you the moment I have something concrete, Nora,” Hadley promised, holding her gaze long enough for the pledge to register. “You have my word.”
Nora mouthed a thank you and walked toward the door with her water bottle in hand. The bell above rang as she left. Hadley nodded toward Whitney before heading back to the counter to collect the two coffees with her name on them. The barista had kindly set them in a drink carrier.
“Hadley,” Whitney called out as she grabbed her workout tote that was hanging on the back of her chair. She quickly closed the small distance between them. “I owe you an apology. What I said came out wrong, but I would like to discuss something with you that pertains to the subject of Nora.”
Hadley would have preferred that Whitney remain formal in addressing her. Whitney and Nora were friends. Nora had used Hadley’s first name, and the bridge from one to the other was a short walk. Still, Hadley didn’t take kindly to the familiarity.
“What is it that I can do for you, Whitney?”
“Nora and I’ve been close for almost five years.
” Whitney stepped to the side when someone attempted to pass them, pausing until she could settle back into place.
“When you came to town last year for the Claymont investigation, Nora had a difficult time with it. She never would have come out and said anything to you, but she was worried that Reed still had feelings for you. Then Reed was killed, and…well, that was really hard on her. Not knowing who killed him has been even worse, but she’s finally started living again.
Yoga, concerts, and an occasional Friday night outing.
All I’m asking is that you don’t give her false hope. ”
“Whitney,” Hadley said in mild warning, recognizing where the conversation was going. “I’m simply doing my job when it comes to—”
“I know,” Whitney exclaimed, holding up a hand in concession.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not saying that you did.
All I’m asking, as her friend, is that you not give her hope if you don’t have something to back it up.
A year has gone by without any leads as to who killed Reed.
I don’t need to be the chief of police to know that his murder probably won’t be solved after all this time.
A phone call from you that doesn’t turn into anything is a phone call that sets Nora back weeks if not months. ”
Hadley weighed Whitney’s request.
The advice was, on its surface, reasonable.
“I can appreciate you looking out for a friend, Whitney,” Hadley said carefully, choosing the words for what they would and wouldn’t give away. “I’ll be thoughtful about what I share with Nora and when.”
Whitney seemed to want to add on to her previous statements, but Hadley determined that Nora wouldn’t welcome her friend’s intervention.
She gave Whitney a polite nod and turned away, grateful as she exited the café that she hadn’t gone into specifics about her reason for being in Emberwood this morning.