Page 38 of Her Final Hours
After stepping out of the vehicle, Noah and Callie approached the front door. His anxiety intensified, his heart pounding in his chest. The memories of the past rushed back, along with anticipation of the angry words he expected to hear.Callie, perceptive as ever, asked him, “You sure you’re up for this?” Noah nodded, steeling himself for the meeting that held familiarity and trepidation.
She knocked on the door, and he heard rustling inside. It swung open to reveal a woman in her early seventies. Her once radiant features were now replaced with years of heartache and sorrow. Once full and vibrant, her hair had turned gray, and her weary eyes told tales of sleepless nights spent searching for answers.
She stood before them, a shell of her former self, carrying the weight of a loss no parent should endure. Her gaze bounced between Noah and Callie before settling on Noah, her piercing eyes full of questions whose answers had eluded her for far too long.
Before Noah could utter a word, Callie introduced herself. “Mrs. Scott?” she asked.
The woman’s face twitched with mixed emotions, and she corrected her. “Ms. Pennington. Scott was my married name.” She glanced at Noah, and it became apparent that her marriage had crumbled under the weight of the shared tragedy, but at that moment, she chose not to elaborate further.
As Callie motioned toward Noah to introduce him, Ms. Pennington piped up. “Noah Sutherland,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness yet a glimmer of hope. Her gaze remained on him until the silence grew awkward; at this point, she snapped out of the daze and said, “Come on in,” gesturing for them to enter the humble abode.
The living room welcomed them with warmth and a bright ambiance, offering instant relief from the cold outside. Faded photographs adorned the walls, capturing moments frozen in time. His gaze fell upon a family portrait displayed prominently on the mantel. It depicted a younger version of her, her armwrapped around a young girl with bright eyes and a mischievous smile — Payton. The photograph was a bittersweet reminder of the happiness they had once shared. He noticed several more, mainly of Payton and her brother Andrew. It pained him to think that she never got to finish high school or graduate from college. Her father wouldn’t walk her down the aisle or see her step into a chosen field. Those who abducted or killed the young didn’t see this, the ripple effect, the abyss left behind. But he did, too many times.
As they took seats on furniture that showed signs of wear, that photo remained a sense of comfort. A soft glow emanated from a vintage lamp in an area of the room where daylight couldn’t reach. As they settled, Ms. Pennington reentered, carefully balancing a silver tray holding a pot of coffee accompanied by cups, a pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar. The scent mingled with memories that hung heavy in the room.
A pang of guilt came over him as she poured steaming liquid. Not only had they lost their daughter, but the tragic circumstances had also torn her marriage apart. He felt the shared sorrow settle on his shoulders, realizing the impact of the case.
Callie’s question broke the silence. “You live alone, Ms. Pennington?” she inquired.
“Call me Esther. Please. And yes, it’s just me now. I don’t see many people. I don’t think people know what to say even this many years later. My son lives over in Watertown, not far away. He visits every week,” she replied, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. Her loneliness and her resilience were apparent. It was evident that the void left by Payton’s absence had affected every aspect of her life, including her relationships. She continued, “Richard and I separated a few years after Payton went missing.” Her voice quivered with emotions that had never fully healed. “The strain, I guess, got the best of us.”
Noah felt another wave of guilt wash over him as he realized the magnitude of the devastation that had befallen the family. It reminded him of the role the investigation — and his association with it — had taken on in their lives. It reminded him of the unfinished business he had with the case.
Silence hung in the air momentarily, just like a ticking clock. Then, Noah mustered the strength to speak. “Mrs. Scott. I mean…”
“It’s okay. You remember me as her. In some ways, I’ll always be her.”
He nodded. “We’ve come here to revisit Payton’s disappearance. We believe there may be a new lead, new information that could help bring closure to your family.”
Her eyes searched his face. Her expression was a mixture of hope and skepticism formed from years of contact with the police. The lines etched into her worn features deepened as she nodded, her voice trembling. “I’ve never given up. I’ve always held on to hope, praying that I would find out what happened to her one day.”
“It’s not much right now, but….”
“If there’s even a slim chance… I need to know. What’s the lead?”
“A young girl, no older than Payton was at the time of her disappearance, was found wandering railway tracks in Westport. So far, we haven’t been able to identify her. She has the name of Payton and other missing girls in her skin.”
Her brow furrowed. “In her skin?”
“As if someone had taken a sharp object and scratched in letters.”
Esther’s gaze roamed as she contemplated his words.
“We’ve also found a deceased male who might be connected to her. We’re in the process of identifying him,” Callie added.
“Do you have any photos of these two?”
Noah glanced at Callie and then took out his phone. The photo of the girl didn’t get any reaction from her, but the male was another story. “What the hell.”
“You know him?” Noah asked.
“I do.”
14
Tuesday, March 20, 7:55 p.m.
The young deputy had done his fair share of shit tasks while working for the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office; this was not one. Assigned to Elizabethtown Community Hospital to watch over the girl found wandering on the tracks, Jonathan Parker breathed in the warmth of air coming out of an overhead air vent.
