Page 31

I handed Sonny the shovel and said, “Follow me. Try not to be too obvious.”

He considered the shovel as if wondering how he could possibly hide it.

“Just act natural,” I added as I set off back toward the space at the end of the diner. Sonny followed behind.

If anyone inside the diner was looking out the front window, they’d notice us, but as I led the way, I veered away from a direct line of sight and kept my gaze downward so as not to make eye contact.

As I figured they’d move quickly, the police were gone. It was even darker under the old patio covering now, so I flipped on my phone’s light. I’d decided that the only person who might catch us back here would be Pearly, the postmistress, who I needed to talk to anyway. I was waiting on a box from Missouri. Had it arrived?

I thought about Jenna and her words, her quick read of me. “Have you heard anything about the new employee named Allie?” I asked Sonny.

“I did some reconnaissance.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. What did you learn?”

“She’s a new computer engineer. Apparently, brilliant. She and her wife moved here from Oregon. Sound about right?”

“Yep. Anything else?”

“No real impressions yet. Want me to get to know her?”

“I don’t know. Can I get back to you on that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Put on some gloves,” I instructed. “Aim the light into the barrel. Hand me the shovel.”

“What is that? A boot?” he said as he peered inside.

“Yes.”

“From the last century?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think it’s quite that old.”

“Want me to get it out?”

“I’ll do it.”

I put the shovel into the barrel and dug away at the debris. When motes floated upwards, I said, “Do you want a mask?”

“No, I’m okay. How did you even see this in here?”

“Long story.”

The boot didn’t completely fall apart. My methods of retrieval weren’t as careful as they would be if I was sure that this was evidence of some recent crime. If anything, it was too old to offer any real answers, to anyone except for maybe me, but as I scooped up the boot when it was released from all the grime, doubt ran through me. Should I have told the police to retrieve the contents of the barrel? I still could if I thought it was important. I was too curious to stop now.

Once the boot was out of the barrel, I set it and the shovel on the ground. Sonny and I crouched.

“What are we doing?” Sonny asked.

I looked at him, back at the boot, at him. “My father disappeared twenty years ago. This might be his boot.”

“What?” Sonny paused. “How—”

“I need to get this back to my place,” I said.

“Want me to carry the shovel or the boot?”