“I appreciate the offer, Reed. Really, I do, but I prefer to conduct these interviews alone.” As much as Hadley kept her tone respectful and friendly, it was difficult for him not to take exception. “Look, you and I both know they’re going to be mindful about what they say in front of you. They'll be preoccupied with making sure what they told you before matches what they're telling me now.”
Reed couldn’t argue her point, so he left well enough alone. He had also been keeping a close eye on Frank, who was still staring at Hadley with what seemed to be enough hate to burn the flesh right off her body.
The high school principal had aged beyond what was normal since his daughter’s disappearance. His once-commanding presence had been diminished by grief's relentless erosion. Reed quietly released his mug and slipped off the stool as Frank approached the bar, the man’s face tight with barely contained rage.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here,” Frank said, his voice carrying through the silence. Every patron seemed frozen in place. Still, Hadley stood her ground, though she’d lost all color. Frank stopped a few feet away from them, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. “No one wants you here. Your brother murdered my daughter, and you share his tainted blood.”
Hadley shifted her stance subtly so her weight was balanced and her body was angled to provide a smaller target shouldFrank decide to make this confrontation physical. She didn't respond, and somehow, her silence was more provocative than any defense could have been.
“Frank, this isn't the place,” Reed warned, attempting to diffuse the situation.
“You think just because your testimony put that monster behind bars that all will be forgiven?” Frank demanded to know, his voice rising as his face flushed even more. “Your mother is burning in hell right now for?—”
“That’s enough, Frank.” Reed stepped in front of Frank to completely block his view of Hadley. “I mean it. The best thing you could do right now is walk out that door.”
The veins in Frank's neck stood out, pulsing rapidly. Reed noticed several patrons shifting uncomfortably in their seats, while others leaned forward, eager witnesses to the town's long-simmering tensions finally boiling over.
“He took my baby girl from me, Langley.” Frank brushed past Reed, pausing only to convey some parting advice to Hadley. “If you start digging up the past, you’re liable to get buried yourself.”
The threat hung in the air, its implications not needing to be spelled out. The bar remained eerily quiet in the man’s wake. Reed turned to Hadley, knowing full well how absurd it was to ask her if she was alright.
“Are you okay?”
The inquiry still slipped out, anyway.
Hadley met his gaze evenly, her composure intact despite all the attention on her. The only indication of her discomfort was a slight tightening around her eyes, causing the small scar through her eyebrow to whiten.
“Yes, I'm fine,” Hadley replied, her voice betraying nothing. She raised a hand in a brief wave to Sam before turning towardthe door. “Like I said, I just wanted to give you an update on my plans tomorrow. Have a good night, Reed.”
He fought the urge to stop her. He didn’t believe that she had let enough time lapse between her leaving and Frank’s exit, but she’d made it clear that she wanted to deal with the locals in her own way and in her own time. As the door swung shut behind her, conversation gradually resumed, though noticeably more subdued.
“Hadley Dawkins always did know how to make an entrance,” a gravelly voice observed from behind him. “All in all, it’s good to have her back.”
Gus Jenkins didn’t join Reed as he reclaimed his stool. Instead, the decorated WWII veteran remained leaning on his cane while staring at the scuffed door. Though his gait was slightly uneven, his back was still military-straight.
“I highly doubt the Estens are glad about her return, Gus,” Reed murmured, though he didn’t have to worry about the bar owner not hearing him. The man might be in his late nineties, but his hearing was as sharp as someone half his age. Hell, even younger. “Though I do think that Frank will regret his words come morning.”
There was no question that Gus knew every secret and weakness of every patron who had passed through his doors. He was a wealth of information, even though he kept his opinions to himself. Advice, however, was always free.
Gus inched closer and patted Reed on the shoulder.
“Grief doesn't follow rules, son. And this town has more than its fair share to go around."
The old man's gaze drifted to the door once more, his expression softening slightly.
“You know, I've poured drinks in this bar for more than sixty years. Seen people leave town swearing they'd never return. Seen folks try to reinvent themselves by moving across thestreet.” Gus shook his head slowly. “One thing I've learned is that no one ever really escapes their past. It follows like a shadow, growing longer or shorter depending on the light, but always there.”
Reed recognized the truth in Gus’ wisdom. Hadley hadn't escaped her past by leaving Whistlerun, just as Frank Esten hadn’t escaped his by staying and drinking whiskey every day.
“Then again, shadows can swallow us whole.” Gus let his hand drop to his side, shifting his weight more comfortably on his cane. Only it was Reed who wasn’t comfortable anymore. There was something in Gus’ tone that made him question the man’s knowledge about past events. “And shadows are like secrets, Reed. When they claw their way back, they don’t come alone.”
12
Hadley Dawkins
October 2025
Saturday – 6:18pm
