Pearl Shepley.
Melissa Harding.
Catherine Bell.
Diane Maxwell.
Elizabeth Hanover.
Emily Esten.
Sandy Richardson.
Missy Claymont.
Hadley picked up the antacid and placed it on her tongue. As she chewed, she pressed her fingertips against her closed eyelids until spots of color burst behind them.
What had Reed discovered in those journals?
After she opened her eyes, it took a moment for her vision to focus. Red lines connected possible points of contact between the victims. Blue lines marked festival dates. Green showed the movements between families and friends.
Yet there was still something missing.
Something Reed had discovered in Sarah’s entries.
Hadley had spent Saturday evening and all of yesterday reading through the remaining leather-bound books. There was nothing left for her to read. Nothing for her to grasp onto.
Her cell phone vibrated against the desk surface.
She glanced at the screen, confirming her guess that Nick was attempting to reach her again. It was his fifth call since last week’s press conference. She intentionally diverted him to her voicemail.
She would eventually need to speak with him after the message she left him following Reed’s funeral. She’d given her word to Warren that she would come clean with Nick about the agreed-upon diversion of the press, and she’d kept her promise. Granted, a message wasn’t the same as confessing in person, but it had gotten the job done.
Unfortunately, the story of her return had faded, and in its place were theories connecting Reed’s death to MissyClaymont’s disappearance. Any advantage Hadley had vanished with the latest headlines.
She lowered her gaze to the floral boxes of journals. If Sarah had documented something strange, she would have mentioned it to her husband. While he stated he couldn’t remember anything that stood out, Hadley needed to somehow jog his memory. Collecting her keys and phone, she stood and walked around the desk. Before she could cross the remainder of the room, the front door swung open.
Hadley thought maybe Nick’s patience had worn thin, or the mayor didn’t want to wait for another update, but she wasn’t expecting a woman to enter the station. A woman who seemed vaguely familiar.
“Hi, Hadley. It’s been a long time.”
Hadley would know that raspy voice anywhere.
Charlotte Nesbit no longer wore her long blonde hair down around her shoulders, sported heavy eyeliner, or wore bold colors like she did in high school. She stood near the front door of the station with practiced poise, a pastel blouse beneath a beige cardigan, and her honey-blonde hair cut into a soft bob layered around her face.
It was the designer leather purse that told Hadley some things hadn’t changed about her high school adversary.
“Charlotte,” Hadley greeted, unsure of the reason behind the woman’s visit. The years had definitely refined her features, softening the sharp edges of the girl who'd once ruled the social hierarchy of Whistlerun High. “The mayor has yet to appoint another police chief, but I can give you the number to the sheriff’s office if?—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Charlotte readjusted the strap of her purse in unease. “Actually, I'm here for Nora. You probably didn’t know this, but she's my cousin. She asked if I could pickup some personal items from Reed's apartment upstairs. She just couldn’t bring herself to come here yet.”
The relation between the two women shouldn’t have come as a shock. It was just another strand of the intricate web of connections that defined small-town life. In Whistlerun, no one was ever truly a stranger, merely a relation one hadn't placed yet.
“Of course,” Hadley said, gesturing toward the narrow staircase to their right. “I was on my way out anyway.”
“I appreciate it,” Charlotte replied, not making any move toward the staircase. She hesitated briefly before continuing, “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been in town, but you and Reed dated all through high school. I can’t imagine this has been easy on you, either.”
Hadley wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she passed the time by sliding her cell phone into the pocket of her blazer. When she glanced back at Charlotte, she was rubbing the left side of her jaw.
