“I've seen a lot of sick things in this job,” Ramos said after a moment, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His gaze followed the team carrying Missy as they eventually disappeared into the darkness. "Murderers, child abusers, people who've done unspeakable things to other human beings. But hunting women? Keeping them for however long, only to kill them if they didn’t accept their fate? Forcing one to bear a child? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that.”
“Sandy Richardson was less than two miles from her family this entire time.” Hadley attempted to release her hold on the blanket, but her fingers wouldn’t yet comply. “I don’t understand it, though. Kalen mentioned that his father trusted Sandy enough to be inside the main house. She had the ability to escape several times.”
“Stockholm syndrome at its finest,” Ramos said with disgust. “Think about it. Every meal, every drink of water, every moment she wasn’t in pain…all ‘gifts’ from her captor. She gave birth to her captor’s child. Nursed him. Raised him. Somewhere along the way, survival became something else entirely. A twisted version of family that her mind created to endure the unendurable.”
“Kalen mentioned that his father built this place in the seventies.” Hadley had been surprised by Kalen’s willingness to talk. “No permits, no records. Just a hidden shelter where he could keep his victims. Train them.”
“And where he raised his son to continue the family tradition,” Ramos added, revulsion evident in his tone.
“Seven families are about to get closure,” Hadley added, knowing full well that it did nothing to ease their pain. “And Amelia gets her granddaughter back.”
“What’s left of her, you mean.”
A deputy emerged from the cabin, though he hadn’t collected any evidence. That methodical process would wait for a forensics team to photograph, collect, and catalog. It was a reminder that even the most monstrous acts would eventually be reduced to case numbers.
“You do realize that your brother will likely receive a substantial settlement from the State,” Ramos said, breaking the silence that had settled between them as they continued to observe the activity around them. “Twenty years of wrongful imprisonment doesn't come cheap. The governor will want to make this go away as quietly as possible.”
The muscles across her back contracted into painful knots, a physical manifestation of the guilt she'd carried for two decades. She wasn’t ready to discuss Mason or her role in his conviction.
“You were inside when the medics were looking over Missy,” Hadley pointed out, deliberately steering the conversation away from her brother. “Physically, I mean.”
“Dehydrated, malnourished, but no immediate life-threatening injuries. The EMTs said she's got pressure sores from being confined to that cot.”
Hadley relaxed somewhat now that Ramos had followed her lead. She gazed back at the cabin, noticing more movement. Nick had stepped outside. His gaze sought hers immediately.
“You did great work tonight, Dawkins,” Ramos said, breaking into her thoughts. “If you hadn't followed your instincts, who knows how long Missy would have remained here. Or if Ty Hobbs would have survived.”
Hadley had blurred the lines, and she would need to ensure that her testimony leaned the right way. It was unfortunate, but she understood Elijah Garber just a little bit better. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean she could forgive him for the role he played back then.
A cool breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the distant sound of more law enforcement officials making their way through the woods. The night was far from over.
Tomorrow, the world would be told what had happened in this remote cabin, and Whistlerun’s reputation would once again be stained. Regardless, some would continue to believe that theThreshing Manroamed the fields during the harvesting season.
“What was that?” Ramos asked, causing her to realize that she’d spoken the words aloud.
“Nothing,” Hadley replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she stood. Every single one of her muscles protested the movement. “Here comes Nick.”
“Amelia’s on her way to the hospital.” Nick nodded a greeting toward Ramos. “Kalen's being transported to the station. He's been surprisingly cooperative. County prosecutor is on his way in, and a public defender has already been notified.”
“Did you have a medic check him out?”
Hadley didn’t want the public defender to have any ammunition when the case went to trial. The palm of her hand and her wrist still ached from the contact and the pressure needed to secure his weapon.
“Broken nose, but the bleeding has stopped. He’s also been docile as a lamb.” Nick paused to massage the back of his neck. She instinctively knew there was something he was keeping from them. “Ty Hobbs is en route to the hospital. Severe concussion, dehydration, some lacerations where the restraints cut into his wrists and ankles. One of my deputies drove over to deliver the news personally to Allen and Brandy.”
Hadley studied Nick, noticing the way he lowered his hand and tucked his thumb into his utility belt. He’d stood the same way when he gave her the news about Reed’s remains being inside the cabin of his truck.
“As I said, an ambulance is transporting Missy to the hospital. They've got specialists there better equipped to handle...” Nick trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the cabin. “Whatever happened to her in there.”
“Forensics is twenty minutes out,” Ramos advised, both men having agreed earlier that the state should handle everything.
“I hope they brought enough floodlights. This is going to be a nightmare to process. Fortunately, Kalen gave us locations for both burial sites.”
“What are the chances there are more than six victims?”
Ramos had posed the question, and Hadley was afraid he was right to assume there would be more than the seven cases they had linked to Emanuel Telfort.
“Emanuel buried Sandy beneath an oak tree at the edge of their property, marked with a small headstone he carved himself.”
