Chapter 23

LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS

Day Three on the job, Poppy receives a morning visit from Sheriff Walton.

“Deputy McGee,” he says, coming into her office.

“Poppy,” she says. “We’re both civilians now, Ken,” she adds in a playful tone, mimicking his comment from her first day.

He plops down in the chair opposite her desk, like he’s already had a long week.

“Settling in okay?”

Poppy nods. “Everyone’s been really helpful. And I’m making good progress on the Alison Lane tips so far.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Somebody has to do it.”

“No, not at all. It’s quite, um, fascinating.”

“‘Fascinating’ is a nice way to put it. I’m always amazed how many citizens we have who, let’s say, could use some mental health intervention.” He says this with no menace. “That note they found in Alison Lane’s car is somethin’ else, right?”

“Yes, any luck breaking the code?”

He shakes his head. “But Chantelle Luna’s tenacious. I imagine she’s got every cryptography expert in the state working on it.”

Poppy nods.

The sheriff hesitates, like he’s building up to something. “So, I understand you were at Fatheads last night…”

Now she understands the reason for the visit. The sheriff knows about her attempt to interview her predecessor on the Lane investigation, Daryll Buckman.

“The investigation file is so thin,” she says, “I thought Buckman might be able to—”

“I appreciate the gumption. I do. But when there’s been litigation, these things get complicated.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the litigation when I went there and—”

The sheriff holds up a hand. “You’re like your old man. He had gumption. It saved our asses in that desert more than once.” He smiles. “But like our CO used to say to your dad, you can’t always be a bull in the china shop. Particularly when we’re dealing with a bomb.”

Poppy swallows. She doesn’t know if the “bomb” he’s referring to is one of the explosive devices the sheriff and her father diffused in Iraq or Daryll Buckman.

“Understood,” she says.

The sheriff stands. “Well, I’ll let you get back to the fun.” He eyes her computer, then heads out.

Poppy curses at herself. It’s her third day and she’s already getting a lecture for violating protocol. And if the sheriff learns she’s talked to Agent Fincher—even if it wasn’t Poppy initiating the discussions—he might not be so nostalgic about Poppy’s father. She needs to keep her head down. She needs this job. At the same time, she can’t ignore what Buckman said, can she? Look in your own house. She can’t ignore that Fincher also suggested that Poppy’s office is hiding something. That her dad’s old friend Ken Walton is hiding something. She decides: She’s going to follow the clues wherever they take her, do her job. She’ll just need to be careful about it.

So, for the next few hours she works the new tips. Makes follow-up calls. Cross-checks the office’s crank file for repeat offenders. Researches the databases. And each and every one turns out to be a complete and utter waste of time. She finally reaches the last tip in the batch. She rubs her temples and reads the email.

My name is Ziggy de la Cruz and I run a true crime podcast called theTreehouse. I’ve uncovered some new evidence on the Alison Lane case. I’m going to run a segment on it tonight, so if you’d like to hear about the evidence before the public, please come by my studio locatedhere.

The message is odd. Why ask for an in-person visit? Maybe the podcaster wants to lure someone working the case there for an interview. Poppy googles the podcast name and reads enough to discern that it’s the real deal. It’s ranked a top true crime podcast and has helped solve three cold cases. Everybody’s an investigator now.

The message says he’s doing the show tonight. If it’s something important, she’d like to know about it before the public. She’s caught up on the tip line, so what’s she have to lose? She clicks on the link to the address. It’s in Kansas City, forty minutes away. Yeah, she needs to do her job.