The screen door squeaked open, signaling Elijah's return. Two blue ceramic mugs with steam curling upward in thin, fragrant spirals were in his hands. The aroma of apples and cinnamon floated from both as she took one. The cider's warmth eased through the ceramic and into her palms as Elijah sank into the chair beside her, the wood creaking under his weight.
“I've followed your career, you know,” Elijah said, his voice once again carrying an affectionate tone that caught her off guard. He leaned back in his chair, initiating a gentle rocking motion. “Made detective in record time. Closed that serial arson case in Pulaski that had everyone stumped. I'm proud of you, Hadley.”
She continued to stir her cider with the lone cinnamon stick, observing the amber liquid swirl as she collected herself. Elijah’s praise evoked complicated emotions that she hadn't prepared herself for, making questioning his ethics all the more difficult.
Postponing the inevitable, Hadley took a tentative sip of her cider. She used the action to mask her discomfort. While she never drank a beverage when in the field, Elijah had been morefamily to her than her own mother. The spiced sweetness spread across her tongue, carrying childhood memories she'd rather not revisit.
She just couldn’t win today.
She lowered the mug and kept the conversation on safe ground.
“The academy wasn't my original plan,” Hadley divulged as she rested the bottom of the mug against the armrest. “I was halfway through pre-law at UA when I realized I wanted to be on the investigative side. Switched my major to criminal justice, graduated early, and went straight to the academy.”
“You were always focused, so that doesn’t surprise me. And patrol to detective? That must have been a quick transition.”
“Three years,” Hadley admitted as she used her thumb to track the handle of her mug. She kept to herself that she was still paying off her student loans. “I took the detective’s exam a little earlier than most, but it was the right thing to do at the time.”
“I’ve got to admit that I was a little taken aback when the state sent you here to review the legwork of Langley and Turner.” Elijah's rocking slowed as he studied her over the rim of his mug. “Let me guess. They thought that with you being a local and all, those involved would be more inclined to speak with you than an outsider.”
The gentle probing had gone on long enough.
Hadley set her mug on the small table between them and met his gaze directly.
"They got it right, Chief,” Hadley admitted cautiously, using his former title more out of habit than respect. “I stopped by Amelia Claymont’s residence this morning. Janet Shepley was there, and she shared with me something that I find very hard to believe.”
Elijah brought his own rocking chair to a standstill.
Hadley’s heart broke a little.
“Janet claims evidence was found in Pearl's locker suggesting she might have been pregnant—a pamphlet about options for pregnant teens and an appointment card for a clinic in Emberwood.” Hadley paused to give him a brief moment to digest her words. “Yet nothing like that was mentioned in your reports, Chief.”
Elijah's expression remained neutral, though his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his mug. The slight whitening of his knuckles was the only indication of his unease.
“I thought you were here to review the Claymont case.”
“Janet also mentioned that this evidence somehow got lost between the high school and the station,” Hadley continued without answering his inquiry. “Can you tell me how that happened?”
Elijah took a long, deliberate sip of his cider. He gazed out over his property, the chickens enjoying their lazy afternoon. They clucked contentedly while pecking at the ground, searching for hidden treasures in the soft dirt.
“That was a long time ago, Hadley,” Elijah murmured vaguely. “Memories get fuzzy, details change in people's minds over the years.”
“Do they?” Hadley pressed, her question earning a sharp glance. “Because there wasn’t any mention of those items in any of the reports. I've read them all—every single page. There's no record of a pregnancy pamphlet or an appointment card.”
“I was Police Chief of this town for forty-seven years, Hadley. Spent most of my life protecting these people.” Elijah set his mug next to hers on the table. “Pearl Shepley was my first missing person case as chief. A young girl, beloved in the community, just vanishes without a trace. No signs of struggle, no evidence of abduction. Just... gone.”
Hadley remained silent, recognizing the rare moment when patience would yield more than pressure.
“The Shepleys were falling apart,” Elijah continued, his voice softening with what sounded like genuine regret. “Janet couldn't get out of bed. Mr. Shepley started drinking heavily. They needed... something. An explanation that would let them move forward.”
Understanding began to dawn, and Hadley experienced a cold weight settle in her stomach. She wished more than anything that she hadn’t taken a sip of the apple cider.
“So, you fabricated the pregnancy story?” Hadley asked quietly, keeping her tone subdued so as not to disrupt his willingness to be forthcoming. “For the Shepley’s wellbeing?”
“I spotted a pamphlet in the school counselor's office. The idea took hold. To make it believable, I told the Shepleys that their daughter made an appointment at that clinic in Emberwood.” Elijah rubbed the stubble on his chin in frustration before meeting her gaze. “I'm not proud of what I did, Hadley, but it worked. Mr. Shepley clung to that theory. He went back to work the next day. Started functioning again.”
“And Janet?”
“A mother will never have peace after a child’s disappearance or death,” Elijah admitted, resting his elbows on the arms of the rocking chair. “I did what I did for the sake of what remained of their marriage.”
