Two vehicles occupied the narrow driveway, so Hadley had parked against the curb. She glanced at the neon green numbers on the dashboard, checking the time. The morning service at First Baptist would have ended forty-five minutes ago, giving Amelia ample time to return home.
Hadley had deliberately timed her visit, which meant killing a few hours at the station. She had spent most of the morning poring over more entries in Sarah Cox's journals. Martin hadn’t exaggerated. His wife’s entries were meticulous, detailing everything from crop yields to bird migrations, including anyand all unusual activity on the Cox property during harvest season.
Unfortunately, nothing had stood out to Hadley that would explain so many abductions over the years. She’d given Reed the journals that she’d read through last night, hoping that he might notice something she hadn’t in the string of entries.
Hadley had also brought up the altercation between Lucas Solomon and Kalen Telfort. She’d explained the reason behind the scuffle, all the while monitoring Reed’s expression closely for any signs that he’d known about the guitar lessons. It was obvious by his irritation that he’d been kept in the dark, and he made it known that he intended to speak with Lucas later this afternoon.
Fortunately for Hadley, Reed hadn't brought up Frank Esten and the incident inside the Watering Hole. The entire town had likely heard about it by now, but Reed had tactfully avoided the subject. Since she was running on about five hours of sleep, she was thankful for that small mercy.
Hadley downed the rest of her coffee before setting her travel mug in the cup holder. Stepping out of her vehicle, the first thing she noticed was the scent of burning firewood. She spotted a woman two houses over, supervising her children as they carved pumpkins. A man across the street raked his leaves, and an older couple was walking their two dogs. In the distance, she caught sight of a lone figure wearing a dark hoodie.
By this point, she’d already made it halfway up the cracked driveway. She slowed her pace and eventually came to a hesitant stop to determine if he was standing still or advancing toward her. Her apprehension faded when it appeared she’d misjudged the situation entirely. The man was striding in the opposite direction.
Hadley chalked up her mistake to enduring another restless night. She really needed to get a good night’s sleep, even if sheneeded to take something to help with her insomnia. Relying on medication wasn’t her go-to, but she would resort to a pill if need be.
The concrete path leading to the porch had cracked in several places, like the driveway. Several stubborn weeds pushed through the small fissures. A decorative wooden sign hung from the porch railing, hand-painted with "Claymont" in flowing script. Next to it, a small ceramic pot held fall mums.
Before Hadley could climb the three worn wooden steps to the porch, the front door opened. Instead of Amelia Claymont, an elderly woman with a familiar face and grey hair pulled back in a neat bun appeared in the doorway.
“Hadley Dawkins, as I live and breathe,” the woman said, her voice carrying the slight tremor of advanced age. Despite her wavering tone, there was a sharpness to her gaze that suggested a mind untouched by time. “I'm Janet Shepley. Do you remember me?”
Hadley hadn’t been prepared for such an encounter. Janet Shepley’s daughter had disappeared from the Harvest Festival in 1978. Pearl’s disappearance was one of the eight cases Hadley had pinned to the whiteboard. In an odd way, it made sense for Amelia to seek comfort from someone who’d lived through the same type of tragedy.
“Of course,” Hadley replied with a genuine smile as she allowed herself to be embraced once reaching the top step. “You hemmed my senior prom gown.”
“You were a beauty then, and you’re a beauty now.” Janet’s eyes brightened at Hadley's recognition. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here. With the one-year anniversary of Missy’s disappearance, Amelia isn’t in such a good place right now.”
Janet was among the rare locals who had always treated Hadley the same as everyone else. In fact, Janet had often made additional efforts to show her support for Hadley. She’donce overheard Janet expressing her confusion over the Estens' resentment, given that Hadley had been the one who had ensured Emily’s killer had gone to prison.
“I’m glad that Amelia has someone like you to lean on, Mrs. Shepley.” Hadley followed Janet into the house, making sure the screen door didn’t slam shut behind them. “And I appreciate her taking the time to speak with me.”
“I’ve just put on some tea,” Janet said as she ushered Hadley into the living room. The floral wallpaper wasn’t as white as it probably was when first applied, and the blue living room set was probably just as old. “I’m sure Amelia is already filling a tray with teacups and sugar. Have a seat, and I’ll go get her.”
Hadley wasn’t opposed to waiting in the living room. Photographs lined every available surface, most of them chronicling Missy Claymont's life from infancy through adolescence. Only one included Missy with her father. Given that her mother all but abandoned the girl as a baby, it was no wonder that the woman hadn’t made the cut.
One photo in particular caught Hadley’s interest, though. Missy was standing with her arms flung wide and a smile on her face while surrounded by a bunch of her friends.Hadley counted three boys and four girls, all around the same age. Given that there had been three sets of initials on the beam in Old Man Gleason’s barn, that meant the entire group hadn’t been together during the day.
From the kitchen doorway, Amelia Claymont exited carrying a tea tray with three cups and a white porcelain teapot. Janet was right behind her, admonishing Amelia for not allowing her to help.
“Hadley, I remember you coming to the flea market every weekend, looking for any used books you could find,” Amelia greeted with a small smile. She set the tray on the coffee tableand immediately poured the steeped tea into the delicate cups. “Do you still read?”
“I do, though not as much as I’d like,” Hadley replied as she settled onto the sofa beside Janet. Once everyone held their cups of tea, Amelia made herself comfortable in the matching blue chair. “Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Claymont.”
“I’d meet with the devil himself if I thought it would help find my granddaughter.” Amelia stared down at her cup and allowed several seconds of silence to stretch between them. “Chief Langley couldn't find her. Sheriff Turner couldn't find her. Those state police detectives couldn't find her.”
Amelia raised her gaze and fixed her narrowed eyes on Hadley. There was no judgment, but there was the slightest bit of hope.
“They all think Missy ran off to live her dream. But my grandbaby would never have left town without saying goodbye. She would have kept in touch through calls or email.” The conviction in Amelia's voice was absolute, leaving no room for doubt or contradiction. “Tell her, Janet.”
“It’s not the same now as it was back when my Pearl was taken,” Janet shared as she leaned forward and set her teacup back on the tray. “There are cameras everywhere. Doorbell cameras, street cameras, toll booth cameras. If Missy had left for Nashville, wouldn’t she have shown up on one of those security cams?”
“Before we get into all that, I’d like to talk about Missy,” Hadley said, carefully choosing her words. She didn’t want to give false hope, especially since her visit alone seemed to have already done that. “Would you tell me about your granddaughter? Not just the facts in the police report, but who she really was.”
Amelia's gaze drifted to a photograph on an end table.
“Stubborn,” Amelia finally said with a short laugh. “Lord, that girl could dig her heels in when she set her mind to something. She was hellbent on making it as a songwriter. She had the talent, too. She could weave a story through her lyrics, and you’d think you had sat through an entire movie. But she had a plan, and it included graduating from high school. She never would have?—”
“Do you know Lucas Solomon?”
