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Poppy pauses the video.
The sheriff shakes his head, annoyed. “They of course posted it before they ‘called the authorities.’” He turns onto a dirt road surrounded by woodland that opens up to a small clearing near the lake’s bank. “Oh Christ,” the sheriff says.
Poppy looks out the window. An officer in the same turd-brown uniform as Poppy’s is yelling in the face of the chinstrap-beard guy from the video.
The sheriff jumps out of the car, and Poppy follows after him.
“Kyle, you need to stand down,” the sheriff says calmly.
The officer, Kyle Dobbs—Poppy remembers him from the Zoom job interview—clenches his fists, glowers at the bearded man. Just when Poppy thinks Kyle might take a swing at the guy, he turns and storms off. One of the bearded guy’s crew stands a few feet away filming it all.
Poppy watches the sheriff closely. Ken Walton has a calming presence, not the kind of guy to get worked up about anything, she thinks. In Iraq, Ken and Poppy’s father were on the bomb squad together, which requires an even temperament.
The man with the beard seems flustered. “I told him, we’re not trying to make you all look bad. We just want to give the families some peace.”
The sheriff nods. “Deputy Dobbs is Laura Palmetto’s uncle,” he tells them. “Laura’s his little sister’s kid. Her parents heard you found something, and…”
“Oh shit,” the bearded man says. He waves a hand for the kid with the camera to stop filming. He’s not going to show the video of how Laura Palmetto’s family was led to believe it was her car at the bottom of the lake. The YouTube video didn’t mention that the car was a BMW, and Laura drove a beat-up Honda.
The sheriff puts a hand on the bearded guy’s shoulder, says, “I know your heart’s in the right place, son.”
“You think it’s Alison Lane’s car?” the bearded guy asks.
The sheriff nods. “The bigger question is who are the two dead guys you found in it?”
4
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Shane O’Leary’s phone buzzes in his pocket at the same moment he pushes off the dock in the fishing boat. Gina’s pretty face appears on the iPhone. He’s busy, but he never ignores calls from Gina.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Gina doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, but he can hear her smile.
“It sounds so windy,” she says. “Where are you?”
“Chaz needed some help at his lake house. We’re on his boat.”
Chaz is futzing with the engine, paying O’Leary no mind.
“Tell him hi for me,” she says. “It’s getting dark. You two be careful.”
O’Leary nods, not saying anything. “I may lose the signal soon, hon. Everything okay?”
“I’ve got some good news, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Anthony got invited to a party tonight.”
Their thirteen-year-old son has acted withdrawn lately, depressed, and Gina’s been losing sleep over it.
“That’s great news. See, I told you, it would just be a matter of time till he made some friends at the new school.”
“I hope so.”
O’Leary feels a tiny weight lift. Hope. Like they say, you’re only as happy as your least happy kid. And Anthony is their only kid, and Gina’s world.