“Hadley.”
The voice came from her left, and she turned toward it mechanically, her neck muscles stiff with tension. Sheriff Nick Turner stood with his hands resting on his utility belt, his expression solemn beneath the brim of his hat. Even in the shifting emergency lights, she caught the exhaustion in the lines around his eyes.
“Donovan Huber discovered the fire about an hour ago,” Turner explained, his voice low and measured. “He was driving home and spotted the flames. Called it in immediately.”
Hadley's gaze drifted toward a pickup truck parked about thirty yards away. Donovan Huber leaned against its hood, cell phone pressed to his ear, his free hand gesturing as he spoke to someone on the other end. As if sensing her attention, he turned his attention toward her. He raised his hand in acknowledgment, a grave nod accompanying the gesture.
“The fire department arrived in under fifteen minutes,” Turner continued, drawing her attention back. “By then, there wasn't much they could do except contain it and keep it from spreading to the surrounding areas. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner, but we didn’t know whose vehicle we were dealing with until…”
Questions formed in Hadley's mind, but when she tried to voice them, her throat constricted painfully. She swallowed hard, tasting bile at the back of her tongue.
“…and the fire chief says the intensity of the blaze suggests an accelerant was used. We'll know more once the state forensics team gets here.”
The wordsaccelerantandforensicsdidn’t help her break out of this stupor. Their implications were too unspeakable to contemplate. Not an accident. Not a chance collision with a deer that had somehow caused the truck to erupt in flames.
Someone had done this deliberately.
“I need to...” Hadley managed to gesture vaguely toward her SUV. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Hadley turned away from the wreckage, walking with dignified steadiness back toward her vehicle. Each step carried her further from the charred remains of Reed Langley, but did nothing to distance her from the reality of what had happened.She had returned to Whistlerun to investigate a possible connection between missing women, and now Reed was dead.
She couldn’t extinguish the tiniest bit of hope that someone else had been behind the wheel. Not until the medical examiner identified the body. As she reached the driver’s side of her SUV, she caught her reflection in the driver's side window. She barely recognized herself, but that was becoming rather common recently.
Acid climbed to the back of her throat, forcing her to grab the door handle. Nora's sobs had quieted to a series of broken whimpers. The sounds reminded Hadley of her mother’s grief the day Mason’s sentence had been announced in court. She stretched across the driver’s seat and reached for the bottle of antacids in the cup holder.
She needed to get herself under control.
She needed to think clearly.
Hadley shook two tablets into the palm of her hand before flipping the lid closed and tossing the bottle on the seat. While chewing and allowing the chalky substance to coat the back of her throat, she reminded herself that she’d been gone for twelve years. She hadn’t spoken a single word to Reed in that time, and the last few days didn’t give her the right to grieve as if she’d been a part of his life. Whatever friendship they once had was long buried beneath a decade of silence and unspoken resentments.
Hadley slammed the door with more force than necessary, as if the sound could jolt her back into professional detachment. By the time she rejoined Sheriff Turner, she had composed herself enough to speak coherently.
“Were you the one to contact Nora?”
“Of course not,” Nick replied, his tone sharp in defense of such a question. It was one Hadley had to ask, though. “Donovandialed 911, and then he immediately called Nora. She arrived minutes after the fire department.”
“Why would Donovan have called Nora?”
“Whoever torched the truck concentrated on the cab, and the fire department was able to extinguish the flames before they destroyed the entire plate,” Nick replied grimly. “This is definitely Langley’s truck. He thought she should know.”
“What was Donovan doing so far out of town?”
Nick studied her for a moment before responding, perhaps noting the abrupt shift in her demeanor.
“He lives down the road from here.”
“Since when?”
“About two years now,” Nick replied as his deputy helped Nora to stand, though she was still silently crying. “He bought Larry Chester's old place about a mile past Garber's property. Been fixing it up since then.”
“And you spoke to Donovan?” Hadley inquired as she resisted the urge to cross her arms. “He didn’t see anyone near the vehicle? In the vicinity?”
“I took his statement.” Nick checked his watch. “He was working late, so he stopped in at Gus’ place. Shot some pool, had a couple of beers, and then spotted the flames after making the turn.”
Since the medical examiner had to drive from Emberwood, Hadley figured they still had another ten-minute wait. Unless, of course, they were busy with another body or short-staffed tonight.
“I already requested assistance from the State,” Nick advised before pausing to listen to a radio transmission. “I'm down three deputies who are assisting the DEA on that drug smuggling operation on the west side of the county. I’ve got another five who are in Little Rock for additional SWAT training, one on maternity leave, and two on sick leave. I’m short-staffed, so I’llbe assisting you on this one myself. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
