“Twenty-seven people have gone missing in or around Whistlerun in the past fifty years,” Hadley shared with him, not sugarcoating the facts. Some cases had been investigated by the county, some by the state. “Fourteen of the abductions took place during or just before the harvest season. Eight of those fourteen within a half-mile radius of the Cox property.”
Reed absorbed this information in silence, his attention never leaving her face. He patiently drained the rest of his coffee before speaking.
"Are you suggesting that Martin Cox had something to do with nine abductions over the past five decades?” Reed asked cautiously. His reaction was expected since Martin’s wife hadtaught them back in high school. “Hadley, it’s one thing to come into town to gather some information. It’s another to suspect someone we’ve known for years because of some mere coincidence. The festival brings thousands of people to this area every year. Statistics?—”
“Reed, you’re not listening to what I’m saying,” Hadley said as she stood from the rocking chair. It was time for her to start work, and she had already wasted precious hours. “It’s not just numbers or statistics. I believe there’s a pattern. Someone has been abducting women for years, and they’ve been using theThreshing Manas a distraction.”
5
Reed Langley
October 2025
Friday – 10:29am
Reed observed Hadley disappear into the house, her words about theThreshing Manhanging in the air between them. The conviction in her voice that someone had used Whistlerun as his own personal shopping ground stirred something uncomfortable inside of him.
He wasn’t a man who acted impulsively.
He also wouldn’t allow his ego to get the best of him. If she believed there was a pattern, there was a pattern. She had always been methodical, persistent...and cold. He was certain it was her way of putting barriers between herself and others. Regardless, such a demeanor made her good at her job. The locals weren’t the only ones who had followed her career in law enforcement.
Reed took his time collecting the mug she’d left behind on the side table. He rose from their rocking chair before carrying both inside to find that she had come to a complete stop in the middle of what used to be the living room.
While Reed placed the mugs on his desk, which he had positioned directly in front of the window that overlooked Main Street, he took the time to study her. It amazed him that twelve years had changed so much, yet still so little.
Sunlight streamed through the window, enhancing the natural copper tones in her hair. She wore her wavy locks gathered and contained in a brown clip, but he gauged that they remained the same shoulder length as they had been in high school.
She had applied minimal makeup, enough to try to conceal the dark circles under her eyes, yet he still noticed the slight blemishes. He understood that coming back home was challenging for her, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to ease her discomfort.
“You've made some changes,” Hadley observed, running her fingertips along the edge of the visitor's desk he'd cleared for her use. She slipped the strap of her backpack off her shoulder and set it in the middle of the hard surface. “Who is your deputy?”
“No one,” Reed replied as he leaned against his desk. “The mayor cut our funding right when I was tapped for the position. He decided it was a waste of taxpayer money. I think he would have eliminated mine if the town council hadn’t put up such a fight.”
“Does the council also think that you should work twenty-four-seven?” Hadley finally faced him, the faint lines on her forehead showing her disapproval. “Exhaustion and firearms don’t mix well together. Not to mention the strain such a schedule would put on your personal life.”
“You’ll be relieved to know that I do get some sleep now and then,” Reed replied as he crossed his arms. She had turned away, as if searching for something in particular. “Sheriff Turner handles anything that comes up after hours. Let’s just say that we've got an...arrangement.”
His words brought her up short. She stopped just shy of what used to be the dining room before peering over her shoulder.
“You don't sound particularly happy about said arrangement.”
“Sheriff Turner and I have different approaches to law enforcement,” Reed replied diplomatically. While he didn’t particularly care for Turner, Reed wouldn’t talk out of turn. Besides, Hadley would no doubt meet the man and come to her own conclusions. “Turner’s methods involve following the law down to the letter. No inch given.”
“Was this tension between the two of you a problem during the Missy Claymont investigation?”
“I'll plead the fifth on that one, but know that we didn’t allow our personal opinions of each other to influence the case.” Reed wanted to get back to something she had brought up outside. “Hadley, I know that you don’t believe in any of the urban legends that have been passed down through the generations, but please don’t make light of them.”
“You don’t believe in theThreshing Manany more than I do, Reed.”
“Just because you can’t measure something, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” Reed waved his hand to encompass the room. “Have you ever set your keys down on your desk, only to find them somewhere else? Have something fall to the floor for no apparent reason? You might be able to rationalize those things away, but others might say there is meaning behind them. In case you forgot where you were raised, let me remind you that we’re in the Ozarks.”
Hadley had given him her full attention. She had even leaned a shoulder against the doorframe as she took her time to analyze his expression. As if satisfied with what she found, she straightened and then strolled over to the bulletin board where community notices hung alongside a couple of wanted posters.The mug shots were for some local county bail runners who would turn up eventually.
Hadley’s hand drifted to her sternum, pressing against it in that familiar gesture he remembered all too well. She used to do the same thing before exams, during arguments with her mother, or just whenever general anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.
“You mentioned you read over Missy’s file, but I still made copies of everything I have on file,” Reed said, gesturing to the lone stack of papers on her desk. “Witness statements, search patterns, crime scene photos of where we found the napkin and phone.”
Hadley made her way back around the room until she was standing behind his desk. He straightened and turned to find that she was staring at a framed photograph on his desk.
