CHAPTER 38 - Cedar Creek, Nevada Thursday, August 1, 2024

CHAPTER 38

Cedar Creek, Nevada Thursday, August 1, 2024

WHEN SLOAN OPENED HER EYES THURSDAY MORNING, IT TOOK A moment to remember that she’d slept at Eric’s cabin. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee pulled her from bed. She walked down the stairs just as Eric was pouring a cup.

“Morning,” she said, running a hand self-consciously through her hair.

“Morning. Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Smells wonderful.”

They sat at the kitchen table. Sloan was never happier to have resisted temptation the night before. Had she given in to her urges, her and Eric’s relationship would be something different this morning. She would be distracted and confused. Instead, she was laser focused on the task at hand. She had a vivid dream about her birth mother during the night. Annabelle was snapping photos of her infant daughter and then moving to the darkroom to develop them. When Annabelle emerged from the darkroom, photo in hand, baby Charlotte was gone. In the fog of the dream, Annabelle looked at Sloan and asked where her daughter had gone. Sloan woke with a startle. When she finally fell back to sleep an hour later, she did so with a fierce determination to find answers when she woke.

“Sorry to keep you up so late last night,” Eric said.

“I just wish we’d have found something useful in the files. I feel like we’ve got more questions than answers at this point.”

“I’ve got a call in to one of my contacts at the Nevada State Police. I’m trying to track down one of the detectives who worked your case and see if he can give me any more details about the crime scene and the blood they found. What’s your plan for the rest of the week?”

“I’m meeting with Nora Margolis today to go through boxes of photos Annabelle took the summer she disappeared.”

“What kind of photos?”

“Annabelle was an amateur photographer. Nora Margolis’s protégé, you could say. Annabelle spent the summer, and the early part of motherhood, taking photos.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything. Of the town, of me as an infant, of the house she and Preston were building. I got the impression from the photos I saw that Annabelle was lonely. She had Preston and me, her newborn daughter, but otherwise she was alone. Other than Nora, the Margolis family wasn’t so warm and fuzzy toward her. The photos she took are . . . I don’t know, fascinating because they provide a window into her life, but also haunting and sad.”

Sloan took a sip of coffee.

“Anyway, I have plans with Nora to go through the rest of Annabelle’s photos.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m able to track down the detective who ran the case. It was thirty years ago, so he might not be able to offer anything new or useful.”

“It’s worth a shot. Mind if I shower before I take off?”

“Be my guest. I’ll make some breakfast.”

Fifteen minutes later Sloan walked from the extra bedroom with wet hair to find Eric sitting at the kitchen table. He held up a copy of the Harrison County Post. Sloan saw her image on the front page.

“What the hell?”

She hurried over and took the paper, skimming the article.

“The FBI said they were keeping a lid on the story,” Sloan said.

“Well, it leaked. And you’re all over the Internet.”

Eric turned his laptop. Another image of Sloan stared back.

“For Christ’s sake.”

“Sounds like Ryder Hillier broke the story on her Unsolved podcast.”

“Awesome.”

Sloan’s phone rang and she saw it was Dr. Cutty calling. She closed her eyes before answering.

“Hello?”

“Sloan, it’s Livia Cutty. You know you’re in every paper across the country?”

“I’m just learning that now, and seeing it for the first time.”

“Are the—”

Dr. Cutty’s voice cut out and Sloan looked at her phone.

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” Eric said. “Service out here is sketchy at times. It’s spotty at best. Usually the front porch is the safest place.”

Sloan hurried to the front door and stepped outside.

“Sloan?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’m in the mountains and cell service is bad.”

“Are the stories true?”

“Yes. I found out when I did an online DNA search of myself for the forensic genealogy project.”

“Wow,” Dr. Cutty said. “Sorry the project has spun into all of this.”

“For what it’s worth, this will make for a great dissertation if I can get that far.”

“Do you need anything?”

“You’ve already helped by offering your opinions on those autopsy reports. They’re linked to my story.”

“How?”

“I’m working on figuring that out.”

“I hope I get to hear about it soon.”

“Absolutely.”

“Listen, Sloan, just a heads up. This morning there were news vans parked outside the office. I’m sure they’re hoping to catch you entering the building. I’ve received calls from NBC and HAP News. Word has leaked that you’re studying under me.”

“Sorry to cause so much trouble.”

“Please. None of this is your fault. I’ll deal with the commotion here, you just take care of yourself. I told my networks that I have no comment on the story, and I won’t be touching it unless you need my help.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure what I need yet, but I’ll call you when I figure it out.”

“I have contacts, Sloan. So when you do want to tell your story, I can put you in touch with the right people. This story consumed the public back when it happened, and people will be interested in it until they have answers. You could consider beating them to the punch and giving an interview to the right person. Avery Mason or Dante Campbell. I could arrange it, and it would stop the stampede.”

“Thanks. And I’ll definitely consider it, once I have some answers to give them.”

“Understood. One other thing,” Dr. Cutty said. “Hayden Cox told me that a woman approached him in the parking lot the other day asking about you. She claimed to be an old high school friend who was trying to track you down. Hayden told her you were out of town. He now thinks the woman was Ryder Hillier. Have to suspect that she’ll be the first journalist to Cedar Creek to find you.”

“Damn,” Sloan said.

She hadn’t planned on having to dodge the press while she looked for answers to what happened to her birth parents.

“Thanks Dr. Cutty.”

“Keep me posted, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

As soon as Sloan ended the call, her phone rang again. It was her mother. She looked at Eric through the screen door and held up the phone.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

She turned and walked down the steps of the front porch.

“Hello?”

“Have you seen the papers?” her mother asked.

“Just now, yes.”

“It’s in the New York Times.”

“Delightful.”

“Listen, Sloan. On Monday morning, I had something strange happen at the office.”

Silence followed until Sloan realized the call had dropped.

“Dammit!”

She quickly redialed and listened through the static until her mother answered.

“Sorry. Cell service is terrible up here. What happened on Monday?”

“I had a patient ask about you,” her mom said.

“A patient?”

“She pretended to have a toothache and came in as an emergency. Once I was alone in the exam room with her, she said she was a journalist and wanted to speak with you. She gave me her card, and now I see that she’s the lady with the podcast.”

“Ryder Hillier?”

“That’s her, yes.”

“Christ Almighty! Mom, why are you just telling me this now?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I thought she was a local reporter who was just fishing for information. I didn’t know who she was. So you’ve heard of her?”

“Yes, Mom. She has the biggest true crime podcast in the country, with millions of listeners. She’s the one who broke the story.”

“How? Agent Michaels said they were keeping the investigation quiet.”

“No idea. Did you tell her anything?”

“No. But now there are news vans parked outside the house.”

“Oh my God,” Sloan said. “This is spiraling out of control. I’m sorry, Mom. This is such a mess I’ve caused.”

“We’re just worried about you. Are you okay?”

“Yes. No one’s found me here—I mean, no press or reporters. But it looks like it’s only a matter of time.”

“Just be careful, honey. And if you need us to come out there, we will.”

“No, just do your normal life, Mom. Go to work. Tell the reporters that you’ve got no comment for now. I’ll figure this out today and call you later.”

“Okay, sweetie. We love you.”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you, too.”

Sloan walked back into the cabin. “News vans are parked outside my parents’ house in Raleigh, and waiting for me outside the medical examiner’s building.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for them to come to Cedar Creek?” Eric asked.

“Not long. Even if they haven’t figured out that I’m here yet, they’ll want to track down Tilly and Reid Margolis to get sound bites from them. I’d better warn them, and Nora.”

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Eric said. “No one will find you out here.”

Sloan thought about the offer and agreed that there was no better place to hide from the press than Eric’s isolated cabin.

“Thanks. Let me go see Nora and tell her what’s going on. Then I’ll talk with Tilly and Reid. We’ll make a plan, and I’ll call you.”

“Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

A minute later Sloan was pulling down the long driveway and heading back to Cedar Creek. She worried that Ryder Hillier was lurking out there somewhere, but was wholly unprepared for what was actually waiting at her rental house.