Owen sighed, "It's never easy talking to bereaved parents, is it? I must say, I find this a difficult part of the job."
"Me too," May confessed, glad that Owen had voiced the growing sense of dread she felt, as she approached the home where Hayley’s parents were battling with the loss and sorrow of such a recent tragedy.
However, May knew that if they didn't explore every angle from the start, then this killer might get the chance to kill again, and again, and again. And perhaps these parents held the key to his identity.
Feeling determined that she would try and learn something here, May got out of the car and approached the large,single-story ranch house, which seemed to have a variety of outbuildings attached.
A small dog ran over to them, its tail wagging, and May and Owen briefly stopped to pet it before continuing to the front door.
There, May rang the bell and waited.
After a minute, she heard the padding of feet on the wooden floor within and the door was opened by a young woman, who looked tired and pale. She had reddened blue eyes and dark hair tied back in a ponytail.
"Good morning," May said. "We're police officers, investigating Hayley Meakin's death. We're looking to speak to her parents, or family," she said, wondering if this young woman was related.
"I'm her younger sister, Janet. And my mother’s inside. You can come through," the young woman said.
Janet ushered them into a living room, which was fronted by a large, open fireplace. There was a sofa, a few floral-upholstered chairs, a small table, television set, a china cabinet, and a large, old-fashioned wooden rocking chair, which was currently occupied by a middle-aged woman.
The woman rose to her feet, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Mom, these are police officers who have come to ask us about Hayley," Janet said.
"Deputies Moore and Lovell," May introduced them. "I am so sorry about Hayley."
"Please, sit," Mrs. Meakin said. "My husband is out on the farm. But we will gladly speak to you. We need answers!" she said, now showing a flash of anger through her grief.
"I understand Hayley lived nearby. Did you see her often? Were you close?" May asked.
Mrs. Meakin nodded. "Yes, we were very close. She lived on the farm, although she stopped working for us a couple of months ago, and began doing pottery instead."
"Did she go out walking and running often?" May then asked.
"She used to go at least three times a week. She used to be a keen hiker, although she didn't do that anymore," Mrs. Meakin replied.
"Did she mention anything unusual to you?" May then asked. "Anything that happened while she was out? Anyone following her? Any incidents at all that might have led up to this?"
Frowning, Mrs. Meakin shook her head. "I can't say I do."
"She didn't mention anything like that," Janet confirmed. "We used to have a drink together some evenings, and we saw each other twice in the past week. She definitely didn't have any incidents while out and about, and she would have told us if she had."
"Yes, she would," Mrs. Meakin confirmed. The way she was speaking, very decisively, made May curious.
"Why do you say so?" she asked.
Mrs. Meakin smiled sadly. "Hayley was actually a lucky survivor," she said. "That's why this has felt especially cruel."
She bowed her head, reaching for the box of Kleenex on the coffee table, and Janet continued the explanation.
"Hayley was caught in a snowstorm about four months ago, when she went on a hike in the mountains. The weather turned bad suddenly, it was totally unseasonal for early summer. A freak storm."
"Is that so?" Owen asked sympathetically.
"We were so worried about her. She was gone for days. Her phone was off, we couldn't find her. We sent out search parties. We thought she was dead. Mom even phoned the funeral house because we were wondering what to do in the case of a missing person who was presumed dead."
"And then she turned up?" May asked, thinking what a cruel twist of fate this was that she'd been killed after surviving that.
"Yes. She'd managed to shelter in a tiny hut, up in the mountains, but the snow literally piled up around the door and froze there, so that she couldn't get out. She managed to break the window glass, and she kept alive by drinking handfuls of melted snow, until she finally managed to push her way out when it thawed. She was in a bad way, and had to spend the night on a drip, but she was alive. The paramedics were wonderful, so concerned. They called a few times afterward, to ask how she was."