8
Hadley Dawkins
October 2025
Saturday – 10:51am
Hadley popped the plastic lid off the bottle. She didn’t take her gaze off the two-story house that had once been white. After pouring two chewable tablets into her hand, she put both in her mouth at the same time. She hadn't expected such a severe wave of acid reflux to hit after pulling to a stop next to the crooked mailbox.
Twelve years of absence compressed into a single moment.
She remained in her SUV while chewing on the chalky substance to ease the burning in her chest. Doing so gave her time to realize that it might take until the end of Mason’s prison sentence to make the place livable again.
Time and neglect had stripped away the house’s brightness, leaving behind an unsightly green moss covering the north-facing siding. Several railings were missing from the paint-chipped railing, and the screens on the exterior door werecompletely gone. And what remained of the wicker furniture wouldn’t bear the weight of a dragonfly.
The sight before her bore little resemblance to the home of her childhood memories, yet it remained unmistakably, undeniably hers.
Hadley swallowed what was left of the pulverulent pieces before capping the bottle. Her gaze lowered to the neon green numbers on the radio. She should have driven straight to Edgar Gleason's property, but her conversation with Ty had her needing to check on the place. Now, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Ty hadn’t sugarcoated it when he mentioned he’d taken care of the landscaping. The lawn wasn’t manicured by any standard, but neither was it a jungle of weeds and volunteer saplings that three years of abandonment should have produced.
The grass stood perhaps eight inches tall in patches, but clearly someone had taken a mower to it within the past month. The thought of a stranger performing this act of kindness for her dead mother created a pressure in her chest that had nothing to do with heartburn.
Her cell phone rang, and she wasn’t upset by the interruption. The number on the display just so happened to be the first one in her speed dial list—Troop H. She didn’t have to be told that such placement didn’t say much for her personal life.
“Dawkins.”
“I sent you what I found on those properties,” Landon Cedric said, his strong southern accent more clipped than usual. She’d been gone from the immediate area for so long, she’d needed the names of all local properties that had changed hands. “If you need anything else, hit up Ramos. I’ll be out for the next week.”
“Everything okay?” Hadley asked, though she probably should have kept the inquiry to herself. Landon’s divorce had been finalized over six months ago, but their fight over custodyhad only gotten nastier. “I thought you had to testify in court on that arson case next week.”
“It’s been postponed, but that’s for the best. Kim’s lawyer just dropped the bomb that she wants to move the kids to Seattle.”
“I’m sorry, Cedric.”
Divorce was ugly, but remaining in a marriage for the sake of the kids wasn’t any prettier. She’d been a byproduct of the latter, and she wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.
“Don’t be,” Cedric muttered in disappointment. “Just know that everyone in the department is fair game when it comes to being a character witness on my behalf. Whatever you do, don’t mention the time that I ended up with that dart stuck in my chest.”
“What dart?”
“I knew I liked you, Dawkins. Talk to you later.”
Cedric’s attempt at humor fell flat. They worked together. There was no socializing, no association outside the department. While she was invited to many of the outings, she chose to separate the two.
She’d come to terms long ago that her reasoning had nothing to do with the fear of being judged, but the fact that she’d already judged herself for betraying everything for which a family stood.
Hadley slowly lowered her phone as she observed a dead leaf blow across the porch. She wasn’t much for reading into things, but the leaf’s decay could have been a symbol of her life.
Hollow.
Fragmented.
Hadley had every intention of starting the engine and putting the gear into reverse. She wasn’t here to reminisce about childhood traumas. She was here to investigate the disappearance of Missy Claymont.
Still, Hadley found herself opening the door and stepping out into the mild air. With her keys in hand, she slowly followed thestone path leading to the front steps. They were awfully close to disappearing beneath encroaching grass, but she would either ask Ty to continue maintaining the lawn or simply hire a high schooler seeking some extra money.
She climbed the steps, each one giving a slight protest beneath her weight as if objecting to her presence. Oddly enough, the key to the front door was still on her key ring. There were two other keys she’d continued to transfer over and over, though she had no idea what locks they belonged to.
