“Five o'clock, then,” Reed promised as he released her. “No excuses.”
Nora gave his arm a gentle squeeze before exiting the kitchen. He filled his mug and returned to his desk, determined to expand his scope. He decided to start in September.
He set the steaming coffee beside the floral box. Settling in his chair, he opened the cover of the journal he’d set aside, located the date in question, and began to read the first passage. He methodically worked through a month of detailed accounts of mundane rural life.
Sarah had documented her daily routine, including her love of teaching, but her irritation with the school system. The same could be said for her marriage. There were tender descriptions of Martin bringing her wildflowers, but her frustration over his bad habit of leaving his damp towel on the bathroom floor had been highlighted with several exclamation points. Notations describing the frost on the pumpkin patches, corn husks drying in the crisp air, and even her plans for winter storage were also included. Her love of journaling shone through with each swoop of her pen.
The fourth entry in October caught his interest.
Noticed someone at the edge of our property this evening, standing near the treeline from the access road running east. At first, I thought it might be one of the Huber boys hunting on our land again. I called for Martin, and it turned out that he had found a couple of traps in the woods the other day. They belonged to…
Reed turned the page, finding Sarah's subsequent entry to be about a pumpkin pie recipe she had received from a friend. Throughout the rest of October, she shared her reflections and emotions on various topics. While one entry detailed her acquisition of a talisman meant to protect her and her husband from theThreshing Man, there was no mention of traps being found on the Cox property again.
Reed shifted uneasily in his chair.
During Mason’s trial, he had claimed that the blood all over his hands had been from an injury Emily had sustained from some type of wildlife trap. After the former police chief, the sheriff’s office, and the state police had searched the entirety of the wooded area, nothing like that had ever been found.
Reed had been so caught up in Sarah’s life that he didn’t notice Nora standing in front of his desk. Her purse was slungover her shoulder, car keys jingling in her hand. She'd changed into a light sweater.
“I need to run to the store,” Nora said, her curious gaze drifting to the journal. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I forgot the celery. How’s it going?”
Reed lifted his left wrist and glanced at his watch. It shouldn’t have taken over forty minutes to read two months’ worth of entries.
“I might need to see an optometrist after this,” Reed complained before rubbing his eyes. It did nothing to ease the irritation. “Nothing stands out to me yet.”
“Well, I prepped everything for dinner,” Nora replied as she adjusted her purse strap. “The meat's marinating, and the potatoes are peeled. I’m just missing the celery. Need anything while I'm out?”
“No, thanks.” Reed closed the journal and set it aside. His coffee had gone cold, but he took a sip anyway. “On second thought, would you pick up some microwave popcorn? I ran out last week, and the game is on tonight.”
Nora couldn’t watch any movie, show, or sporting event without snacking, and he’d come to be the same way. It was why, during last week’s football game, he’d used the last bag in the pantry. Fortunately, his team didn’t play until later tonight.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Nora replied, laughing when he arched his brow. “I’m going to need something in return.”
“I’m all yours, beautiful.”
The front door closed behind her with a gentle click, leaving Reed alone once more with a load of journals and not enough time. He’d already accepted that it would take days to comb through all of them, but he could get through two more months before calling it an evening.
Reed lifted his gaze, studying the second picture in Hadley’s timeline. It was of a young blonde girl named Melissa Harding.She’d gone missing three years after Pearl Shepley. No sign of abduction or foul play. She’d simply vanished from Whistlerun, though folks claimed to have spotted her at the festival.
It didn’t take him long to locate the year that most interested him, and once again, he began from the first of September in 1981. Sarah’s entries were a bit shorter than they had been three years prior, so he was able to work through the days at a faster pace. In the third week of that month, a name stood out—the same one belonging to the man who’d been on the Cox property the month Pearl Shepley had gone missing.
Coincidence?
Reed read the entry again.
Martin came in from tending the herb garden. He was irritable, complaining about finding a trap just inside the treeline. This happened a few years ago. We thought we’d gotten our message across, but Martin said he was going to confront…
Reed murmured the name aloud, his mouth suddenly dry. He reminded himself that this was the Ozarks. Traps and such were normal occurrences. Given that the timing was troubling, Hadley would insist they needed to speak in person with a local who had been born and raised in Whistlerun.This was something that could be twisted to fit the narrative.
Reed still had a duty to protect his residents, though.
It didn’t take him long to locate the six other journals in question. Reed checked his watch.Nora had been gone about twenty minutes, which meant she was due back any second. Still, he had time before dinner to take a drive. One simple conversation could explain away any reservations Hadley had about the man’s name being mentioned twice. Otherwise, the implications were just too staggering.Once he had all eight journals in front of him, he spent ten minutes combing through them as fast as possible.
Little by little, he began to relax.
He couldn’t find the name or the mention of traps in any of the others.
There was still only one way to be sure.
