“I don’t want her here, Warren,” Dana muttered, her voice hardening with hatred. “That woman is nothing but trouble. If she hadn’t shown up here, my son might still be alive.”
“I understand, Dana. If it had been up to me, the State Police would have sent someone else,” Warren said without hesitation. “They insisted on Hadley’s involvement because of her familiarity with the area. My hands were tied, but I can see to it that she conducts her business another time and place.”
“I trust you’ll handle it,” Dana said quietly as she met his stare. “She doesn’t belong here.”
“I’ll speak to her.” Warren placed a gentle hand on Dana’s arm. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He noticed that Dana had deliberately turned her face away from Hadley's direction. The movement reminded him of parishioners averting their gazes from someone thought to bring bad luck.
Despite public appearances, Warren secretly appreciated Hadley's return to Whistlerun. Her reputation as the woman who had testified against her own brother carried a peculiar weight. It reminded potential troublemakers that even family ties couldn't protect them from justice, and he found her presence to be a useful deterrent in a small town where everyone was connected by blood or history.
Warren wasn’t disappointed to exit the living room. The close quarters smelled of too many bodies and the cloying sweetness of funeral flowers. Three funeral sprays dominated the far corner, their stark white lilies seeming almost fluorescent against the room's muted tones.
Hadley had continued into the dining room, though he was certain she understood that the town needed a villain to blamefor their pain. She had arrived at precisely the right moment to fill that role, too. Whether she deserved it or not was irrelevant.
Warren nodded acknowledgments to those who caught his eye while maintaining his purposeful stride. The scent of coffee grew stronger as he entered the dining room, where several mourners had gathered around a table filled with food kindly brought by neighbors.
Hadley was about to enter the kitchen when he called her name, though not loud enough to draw undue attention from the others. Hadley turned, her expression shifting to visible irritation. He didn't take offense. In politics, being disliked was often a sign you were doing something right.He closed the distance between them with unhurried steps, maintaining a public-appropriate smile.
“Have you told Turner yet?” Warren asked without preamble when he reached her. Dana’s request could wait. “I don’t want there to be any other misunderstandings.”
Hadley took her time to survey the room before stepping closer to the China cabinet. He figured she was making sure they could speak privately.
“Not yet,” Hadley replied with a touch of impatience. “But I'll make sure Sheriff Turner understands I gave you my permission to be the media's scapegoat. Your reputation will remain intact, Mr. Mayor.”
The slight emphasis she had placed on his title carried a hint of mockery that he chose to ignore. Their arrangement had been made out of mutual necessity, not friendship or respect.
After all, she had sought him out last Tuesday, before his press conference. He'd been preparing his statement when she had appeared in his doorway, uninvited and unannounced. She'd closed the door behind her with deliberate care before laying out her proposition. She would allow him to use her name, her background, and her connection to the caseas a distraction for the media. It was her summation that the reporters would focus on her rather than the details of Reed's murder and its potential connection to Missy Claymont's disappearance.
She had the same viewpoint that Warren had expressed to Turner, though the sheriff clearly held a different opinion. The press conference had gone exactly as planned, with reporters latching onto the Dawkins family drama like sharks scenting blood in the water.
“See to it that you have that discussion sooner rather than later,” Warren advised, attempting to gain back some ground. Hadley Dawkins was a means to an end. She was useful for now, but potentially dangerous if their interests diverged. “We only want what’s best for the residents of Whistlerun, isn’t that right?”
Hadley studied him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. It was as if she were documenting every micro-expression for later analysis. He didn’t particularly care for such scrutiny.
“Is that why you're considering appointing Garber as interim police chief?” Hadley asked, the abrupt change of subject momentarily throwing Warren off balance. “You want what isbestfor the town?”
“You should know better than to listen to town gossip, Hadley. Garber approached me at Gus' place on Thursday evening. He offered his services, that’s all.”
“That’s right,” Hadley said while snapping her fingers. “You don’t want a police chief. I believe Reed quoted you, stating that the salary was a waste of funds. Did you say those exact words, Mr. Mayor?”
Warren experienced a familiar pressure building at his temples. Hadley had an irritating talent for direct questions that couldn't be deflected with political platitudes.
“Yes, it’s true,” Warren said, lowering his voice even further when spotting one of the men on the town’s council. “I have questioned whether the position is necessary. The sheriff's department can handle any emergencies, and it seems a waste of the town's limited budget when we could redirect those funds to more pressing needs.”
“Like the Harvest Festival?”
“The festival brings in half our annual tourism revenue,” Warren reminded her, feeling defensive despite his best efforts. “Without it, several local businesses wouldn't survive the year.”
“Whistlerun will always be the lowest priority among the five towns in Sheriff Turner's jurisdiction,” Hadley advised him, her voice softening slightly. “Any real leader would appoint someone immediately. It sends a message that the safety of your citizens matters more than budget constraints.”
Warren considered her words carefully. In fifteen years of town council meetings, budget discussions, and community forums, no one had framed the issue in that manner before. Even though she hadn’t meant it in such a way, viewing the police chief position as a symbol rather than merely a function hadn't occurred to him.
“I'll take that under advisement,” Warren said, meaning it more genuinely than he'd intended. “In the meantime, you're welcome to continue using the station as your temporary office. I've instructed maintenance to leave everything as it was.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Hadley replied as she peered over her shoulder when a conversation in the kitchen began to get loud. “I plan to stop by there today to gather some files, but I’ll do so before Nora returns.”
“Returns? I don’t understand. She has her own apartment in Emberwood, near the hospital.”
