Page 37 of Her Final Hours
“The hell we do. Look around you. I bet his hair and probably his semen is in the bedroom.”
“Ray. Get a grip. If it turns out to be him, then it’s a win-win. He goes back, and he likely won’t get out again. But look at what we do for a living. We have more than enough people who could be gunning for us between the three of us. No. We do this the right way. With all the crap you’ve been through recently, the last thing you need is this, taking away what little you’ve got left.”
“Tanya is talking to me again. Did I tell you that?”
“Then there is even more reason for you to keep a low profile. Let one of the other officers handle this. I’ll do somedigging. Find out who his parole officer is and where he’s supposed to be staying.”
“When you find out…”
“No, I’m not telling you.”
“Noah. You know I could pick up the phone and make the same call right now.”
“As her brother, I’m asking you to take a backseat on this one.”
“He put her in the hospital last time. If you expect me to sit back waiting for him to do it again, you are sorely mistaken. I appreciate your advice, Noah, but the last time I checked, this is High Peaks, and State Police have no jurisdiction here unless we call you in. If anyone has enough on their plate, it’s you right now.”
“You and I need to talk.”
“About what?”
“You know what.”
They’d been dodging the conversation for a while. Ray’s involvement with the Ashfords, his suicide attempt, and his gambling habit. “From what I recall. I’m older than you, Noah. So, while I appreciate you paying off my debt, don’t tell me what to do. You would have been better off letting them squeeze that trigger.”
With that said, he turned and walked out, only stopping to chat with one of the other officers. Noah turned to find Maddie standing there, arms crossed.
“Thanks, Noah. I told you not to tell him.”
She blew past him, not stopping when Ray tried to speak to her.
13
Tuesday, March 20, 4:55 p.m.
It was an interaction he’d been dreading. As the journey from High Peaks would take close to three hours, Noah had Callie call the Scott family ahead of arrival. He figured any lead in the case was more than what they’d gotten in the last twenty-five years. Like so many other missing person cases, unless they had evidence, eventually the leads dried up, and the agencies involved dialed back and moved on to present matters. Of course, there were times when they had a suspect but didn’t have enough to move forward and risk it being tossed out. From a law enforcement perspective, it was more competent to sit on what they had and keep gathering until they had a concrete case, but it was disheartening for the parents and community.
Noah drove the Bronco through the winding roads with Callie riding shotgun. Their destination loomed closer witheach mile. Clayton was a small town near Canada and the Thousand Islands Bridge. One of many border towns along the St. Lawrence River, it held an old-world charm preserved by a tight-knit community. The town was modest in size, with quaint buildings and charming storefronts dotting the streets.
They were on the last leg of the journey. The closer they got, the more his anxiety was evident.
“You know McKenzie and I could have done this,” Callie said.
“I understand; I just felt I should be there,” he said. “Hey, look, how did things go with your sister’s visit?”
She’d told him her sister had flown out for Thanksgiving but he hadn’t talked to her about it since.
“It was good. She’s definitely in a better place. Off the drugs. Away from the bad element. Studying to become a social worker. Actually, she’s planning on moving back to the area.”
“That’s good. Gives a person hope.”
“Yeah, family is important.”
Her words cut into him.
As they entered the town, the landscape transformed into a picturesque scene. Towering trees lined the roadside, their branches covered in snow. The distant sound of a partially frozen river reached their ears, creating a soothing melody that seemed to be trying to calm Noah’s nerves.
The Bronco rolled into the driveway of a small but pleasant home. It had a well-kept garden even for the winter, and a white picket fence encircled the property. The house, though aging, exuded a welcoming atmosphere.
