Something in Sam's expression shifted at her continued silence. He glanced over her shoulder toward the house before lifting both hands and covering his face. He rubbed his eyes before dropping his arms.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“I saw Mason this morning.” Hadley allowed her statement to settle. He didn’t seem uneasy about the claim. “He remembered something from that night that wasn’t brought up at trial. It made me think about your trips out to the prison, Sam.”
For several seconds, he remained perfectly still. It was his turn to step backward, creating even more distance between them.
“I don't think I like what you’re referring to, Hadley.” His gaze drifted over her shoulder, to the Langley residence, before meeting her stare. “I had nothing to do with Emily's death.”
Hadley tilted her head slightly, studying his reaction.
“As far as I recall, there was no body. Why do you assume she's dead, Sam?”
“I thought we were friends, Hadley. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t appreciate?—”
“The Harvest Festival starts in six days, Sam. If part of Mason’s statement from that night never made it into the report, there’s a chance other information might have been left out, too. Please, Sam. You need to tell me what you witnessed in the woods.”
A muscle twitched in Sam's jaw as he seemed to wage some internal battle. His bloodshot eyes became even more glassy as he scanned the immediate area. If he were searching for some type of rescue, she would make sure he couldn’t take it.
“We were drunk,” Sam finally said, his voice rough from grief. “We were drinking Old Man Gleason’s moonshine, and I got the bright idea to walk through Cox's cornfields to search for...”
Sam cleared his throat.
“I dared everyone to do it with me, but Lori and Nicole got too scared when we reached the edge of the woods. They said that they’d rather drive to the cornfields, but Jerry was just as drunk as I was that night. He egged Billy to get a head start, and the two of them took off running, wanting to be the first to reach the cornfields. I followed, trying to keep up.”
Hadley remained silent, giving him space to continue at his own pace. A breeze rustled the remaining leaves overhead, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
“I made it a good eighty yards in when I tripped over a rock or root. Fell hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I laid there for a while, watched the trees above go round and round until the dizziness finally stopped. By the time I got back on my feet, I thought I heard screams.”
“Emily's screams?”
“I have no idea,” Sam replied, and Hadley didn’t get the sense that he was lying. “I know that they were behind me, but I thought maybe they chickened out. When I didn’t hear them, I began to walk, but the moonshine had messed with my sense of direction. Everything looked the same. The trees, the shadows from the moonlight, everything.”
Sam’s breathing had quickened, and a fine sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead despite the autumn chill. Again, she wasn’t so sure his reaction was a result of the alcohol.
“I was eighteen years old, Hadley. A scared, drunk idiot stumbling around the woods. I kept telling myself that I would eventually reach either the festival or the Cox’s property.” Sam crossed his arms, his suit jacket bunching awkwardly in the middle. “That’s when I heard it. Movement. Rustling, like something was dragging itself through the underbrush.”
“Who did you see, Sam?”
“I told Chief Garber what I saw that night, but he didn’t believe me,” Sam admitted with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t a who, Hadley. It was tall, wearing a trench coat with arms that seemed too long for its body. Moving like nothing I've ever seen—not quite walking, more like... gliding between the trees.”
“Damn it, Sam,” Hadley replied in frustration. “You can’t just?—”
“I saw him, Hadley. I swear to God, I saw him,” Sam insisted, lowering his arms and stepping forward until they were inches apart. There was no denying the conviction in his voice. He genuinely believed what he was saying. “I saw theThreshing Man.”
24
Hadley Dawkins
October 2025
Saturday – 4:17pm
The crime scene had been stripped to faint oil stains and ash-darkened earth. Hadley stared at the remnants left behind, the autumn wind cutting through her blazer as if testing whether she, too, could be scattered like the dead leaves of the season. The forensics team had collected everything of value and taken it to the lab, but a sense of devastation remained.
“What did you discover in those journals, Reed?” Hadley whispered, wishing he could somehow find a way to answer her. “Help me out here. Please.”
Hadley lowered her gaze to the map in her hand, tracing her finger along one of the map's road lines, trying to piece together distances and timing.
