“I’m not saying he’s a viable suspect in Angela’s disappearance. I’m saying he worked for Kieran and Dave then, and he works for them now. He knows things. You stop him before he gets back to town, find what he’s got in the back; he’ll do whatever it takes to stay out of jail, and you get your warrants for the farm. That’s twenty unsearched acres where Chapman’s body could be hidden. Twenty acres you’ll have to tear apart when you find their growhouse.”

Greenwood shook his head, unimpressed. “Or their cucumbers.”

The time for fun and games was over. Sex was one thing, but Caitlin had spent the last fourteen days doing this good-looking asshole’s legwork. She stood, pushed her chair back, and slapped both of her hands on the tabletop. “Why are you acting like this isn’t what you wanted me to find? Or should I say”—she leaned over, her words slow and direct—“used me to find?”

He tried to fend her off with a smile. “I used you?”

Caitlin didn’t buy it. “Yes, Mister Nothing-to-Hide-Ride-Along. You’ve been playing me since I got to town. Stop acting like we both don’t know it.”

He started to talk, shut his mouth, took a second, came back calmer. “I can’t mess this up, Caitlin. One month after Melissa died, Kieran Michelson made a crack about Chapman being another ‘dead slut.’ Let’s just say I didn’t handle it well, and the department lost any leverage it had. They get wise we’re on to them, they’ll tear everything down before we get close.”

She held back a groan. “You had me do all this work because you’re afraid of a lawsuit?”

“I’m not afraid of a damned lawsuit.” Greenwood looked her in the eyes, intense. “I’m afraid they got away with murder because I couldn’t keep my shit together.”

Caitlin stepped back, scratched her scalp with both hands, and sighed. She was the last person on earth who could judge someone for losing control of his emotions.

Greenwood shifted in the chair, looked away.

After a few calming breaths, Caitlin sat back down and smiled. “Anyone can have a faulty turn signal.”

Greenwood didn’t go for it. He pushed the chair back, reached for his sport coat. “What time tomorrow?”

“Between two and three. Does that mean it’s on?”

He flung the screen door open and left without answering.

*   *   *

The next afternoon, Caitlin kicked Lakshmi’s coffee table. “Bullshit.”

“What’s it say, Caitie?”

Mary and Lakshmi looked at Caitlin’s phone over her shoulders.

“Nothing in the truck but spinach.”

She dialed Greenwood. He answered, but she started first. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“No problem letting us search. Nothing but eight boxes of spinach and two bags of seeds. Not even a personal joint. They had to cut Frodo loose.”