"I’ve been trying to reach her for the past thirty minutes,” Nick exclaimed, the frustration bleeding through his professional tone as he stepped fully into the bar. “Hadley was the one assigned to handle the abduction case. She should be the one to take care of this.”
The air inside smelled of stale beer and fried food, a constant no matter the hour. Tuesday evenings typically drew only the most dedicated regulars, and tonight was no exception.
Sam Cashman stood behind the bar, his interest piqued at Nick’s presence. Well, he could join the club. Gus Jenkins sat on his usual stool, though he was reaching for his cane that was propped against the worn wood beside him.
“I spoke to her around six o’clock. She was heading home, so maybe she's got her radio too loud,” Ramos suggested through the phone, though something in his voice made Nick pause. “Let me try her.”
Nick remained near the entrance, wondering if there wasn’t something more going on that Detective Ramos was keeping to himself. Nick couldn’t ignore how his presence caused conversations to stutter and die. The sheriff's uniform made them uncomfortable, and he was certain that his expression wasn’t helping matters.
Nick observed Sam slide a fresh beer toward an older man sitting at the counter. Gus was now off his stool, cane in hand, as he began to shuffle toward the corner of the bar.
“You’re right,” Ramos replied, his voice tight. “She’s not picking up.”
“Is there something that you want to share with me?”
Ramos didn’t reply right away, which caused Nick to straighten his shoulders.
“Look, she knew you wouldn’t agree with her methods, but she obtained permission from Brandy Hobbs to search the east end of their property. Hadley called me, we set up some checkpoint times, and she kept to it. Like I said, I spoke to her around six, and she planned to drive back and pick up one of our drones.”
Nick bit back the expletives that came to mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, but nothing was going to ease his tension.
“I take it if she was headed back your way that she didn’t find anything?”
“No, but I did pose a theory that you should probably be looped in on.” Ramos’ voice was interrupted by the sound of a door closing. “I worked a case with a profiler from the Bureau last year. Learned a few things. I told Hadley that I think she’s dealing with two abductors. The first one started with Pearl Shepley, and he’s only gotten better at his craft. Missy? Well, the perp left her phone behind, which signifies that he’s just getting started.”
“You think Thomas Hobbs abducted seven girls, and his son is now following in his footsteps?” Nick asked after having turned to the side so that his voice wouldn’t carry. “And Hadley still went out to the property knowing this?”
“She was only checking a few locations.” Ramos paused. "And she followed procedure, Turner. She called me, and I’ve already told you she called on the hour to inform me she was on her way back.”
“Can you track her cell phone? Make sure she’s headed your way?” Nick shifted, noting that Gus was still waiting patiently for him. “In the meantime, I’ve got to talk to Jenkins, the pub owner.”
“Yeah. She dropped me a pin. Let me check it, and I’ll call you back.”
The call ended, but he didn’t slide his phone into his pocket. He kept it in his hand as he crossed to where Gus stood waiting. He then gestured toward the back booth. Nick’s patience evaporated as he planted his boots.
“Mr. Jenkins, I don't have time to do this the neighborly way,” Nick stated, his voice carrying in the quiet bar. “What is it you’d like to share about those missing girls?”
The old man didn't flinch at Nick's directness. Instead, he switched the cane into his other hand so he could use the long counter as leverage and lean in without anyone overhearingthem. Sam had the decency to move down to the other end of the bar.
“Sam saw something in the woods the night Emily Esten disappeared,” Gus shared, a toothpick lodged in the corner of his mouth. “Garber told him to keep it to himself, because Sam believed it wasThreshing Man. But Sam is confident that whatever he saw was wearing a trench coat. Only theThreshing Mandoesn’t wear a trench coat.”
“But you know who does?” Nick asked, doing his best to stem his frustration about the entire town's obsession with an urban legend.
“I do.”
The bar's dim lighting seemed to deepen the lines in Gus's weathered face. It was obvious that the forthcoming admission pained him, and Nick wasn’t sure the old man could spit out the name.
“Mr. Jenkins, if you know?—”
“Emanuel Telfort.”
“I’m sorry?” Nick had to have heard incorrectly. “Emanuel Telfort? Wasn’t his funeral a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes, but he was the only man in these parts who wore a trench coat back then.” Gus shook his head, as if he didn’t even believe it himself. “Strange fellow, but always nice to everyone. He was there the day that Thomas Hobbs had that farming accident. Shook him up so much that he suffered a massive stroke. Paralyzed his entire left side, and he was bedridden until he passed away in his sleep last month.”
Ramos had it right, but Hadley had gotten the wrong family. Nick prayed that Ramos was able to confirm she was on her way home. As if he’d received an answer, his phone rang.
“Excuse me,” Nick murmured as he accepted the call. “Turner.”
