Reed gathered the journals and his keys. One friendly visit to put his mind at ease. No accusations. If he discovered nothing concerning, the matter could be laid to rest. He’d call Hadley on the way back to town. Once she heard the name, she would understand why he’d chosen to take this informal interview on his own.
16
Hadley Dawkins
October 2025
Sunday – 3:38pm
The McCarthy family dining room was a showcase of meticulous perfection. Light from the crystal chandelier delicately reflected on the polished mahogany table, and sterling silver candlesticks, along with a set of fine China, were arranged carefully in a glass-fronted cabinet. A tiny speck of dust could be seen here and there, but it was clear that appearances mattered more to the family than comfort.
Hadley sat alone on one side of the table, while the three family members occupied the opposite side like a panel at a conference. Father, son, and mother had arranged themselves in a defensive formation that had spoken volumes before a single word had been exchanged between them.
John McCarthy had done his best to dominate the conversation. His red hair was expertly trimmed, his posture perfect, and his eyes never settled on Hadley for more than a fewseconds before flicking to his son or the grandfather clock in the corner.
Beside him, Richie slumped slightly in his chair. However, Hadley didn’t believe it was in defiance. She truly believed that he was grieving the loss of a friend. He’d inherited the color of his hair from his father, though it was styled with a more careful casualness that must have taken considerable effort to achieve. His arms had remained crossed over his chest throughout most of Hadley's questioning.
Olivia McCarthy finished the family portrait. She sat on the other side of her son with practiced grace. Her dark bob framed her face, and her makeup was applied so precisely that it was hard to tell where the cosmetics ended and her skin began. Although the woman mostly listened and observed the discussion, Hadley doubted she missed a single detail.
Thirty minutes of questioning had yielded nothing, much to Hadley’s frustration. If she were honest with herself, her aggravation had more to do with Elijah than the McCarthys.
“Did Missy ever ask you to leave town with her, Richie?”
Hadley had finished with her basic inquiries, so she made the conscious decision to throw the three of them off balance. This time, John stared at Hadley with confusion, while Olivia didn’t bother to gently steer her son’s answers with a subtle touch of his arm as she had been doing for the past forty minutes.
Richie shifted uncomfortably, his crossed arms tightening further. He glanced quickly at his father, then back to Hadley, uncertainty flashing across his features. He wasn’t comfortable answering her question in front of his parents.
“It's a simple question, Richie,” Hadley pressed gently, maintaining steady eye contact with him. “Did Missy Claymont ever ask you to leave Whistlerun with her?”
The seconds stretched the silence between them. Richie visibly swallowed, his pale skin making the action more noticeable.
“Yes,” Richie finally admitted, avoiding his parents’ displeasing glares. “She was always talking about leaving town, becoming a songwriter and singer. She didn’t want to go alone, though.”
“And your answer was…”
“I said no.” Richie sat a bit straighter in his chair. “I couldn’t just up and leave. I have responsibilities here. College, the family business. I couldn’t abandon everything on some pipe dream.”
John muttered something under his breath about his son having a little common sense. Olivia was still staring at Richie as if she didn’t know her son at all. Before Hadley could pose a follow-up question, the woman shifted sideways in her chair.
“Richie, were you dating the Claymont girl?”
“No,” Richie replied defensively, glaring at his mother. “We were just friends.”
Richie was telling his mother the truth, but Hadley got the distinct impression that he had wished for the opposite. He had cared for Missy very much, but her aspirations kept her focus on one goal—to leave Whistlerun.
“When did Missy ask you?”
“About a month before she disappeared. We were at the lake, just talking, you know? She got really intense about it, said she'd been saving up for almost a year.”
“Did you know that Missy asked the same of Lucas Solomon?” Hadley’s question hit her mark, but she never altered her expression. The very suggestion of Missy spending time with Lucas had triggered some sense of jealousy in the young man. “Did you know that she was taking guitar lessons from him?”
“What are you talking about?” Richie asked with a touch of anger. “Missy would never hang out with someone like Solomon. Whoever told you that is lying.”
“It came from a very reliable source,” Hadley replied, intentionally vague. She shifted direction before John could bring an end to this meeting. “How did Missy come to be part of your friend group, Richie? From what I understand, your backgrounds were quite different.”
“Veronica,” Richie responded with an indifferent shrug. “Veronica's family came into some money when she was in middle school—her dad patented something for the oil industry. When they moved next door to us, she and Missy were already best friends from school. Veronica never excluded Missy in anything, and we just sort of…well, accepted her.”
“I believe my son has answered enough questions, Detective Dawkins,” John announced without hesitation. He’d wanted to do so for the past fifteen minutes. “Richie knows nothing about Missy Claymont's disappearance. He's told you the same things he told Chief Langley and Sheriff Turner last year.”
