It was an unlikely question. Boston alone had twice the number of cops than the entire state of Vermont. But continuing ed trainings were a perennial constant, sending all of them at least around New England and often farther on a regular basis. And while the topics addressed could sometimes be valuable, they often paled against the usefulness of networking.

The question therefore prompted Sammie to ask, “Which district?” reflecting how Boston divided up its turf.

Districts were Boston’s version of New York’s more famous precincts. Joe checked his screen again before replying, “A-1.”

“I was at a conference two years ago with a woman from the A-1,” Sam said, turning toward her own computer. “I’ll reach out and ask if she knows Molly Ryan.”

“She’s got to,” Lester encouraged her. “Women make up less than twenty percent of that entire department.”

Sam made no comment, already typing.

“Les,” Joe asked, “I take it the fusion report lists Shaw’s kids?”

“It does, and when we were at his home, he said one reason they built that palace was so the kids could spread out when they visited. That being said, in the next breath, he implied it had mostly been a wasted effort, given how rarely they did.”

“Makes you wonder if the kids have even seen the place,” Willy mused.

“Look into that,” Joe urged. “Nothing like a disaffected child to dish the dirt on a parent. And what was the name of that guy who met us at the door?”

“Seamus Kyle.”

“Let’s get some background on him, too, along with anyone else who crops up. Time to put Lemuel Shaw and his world on center stage.”

Sam was at home that night when she heard back via text message from her Boston PD contact. It was straightforward, no-nonsense, and contained only the name, Molly Ryan, and a phone number, followed by, “Call now.”

“What d’you wanna know?” was the greeting she received moments later.

“Molly Ryan?” Sam asked.

She could almost hear the eye roll. “You called me.”

Sam shifted gears, abandoning her more countrified manners for something more urban. “You been brought up to speed?”

“I know you want to hear about that slimeball Lemuel Shaw.”

“Correct. You dealt with him?”

“Not like I wanted to, but yeah. This being taped?”

“No.”

“Anyone else on?”

“No.”

“Okay. Go.”

“We came across mention of him in a missing child case you ran, as a POI. It caught our eye since we’re working something similar up here. Did you ever close that?”

“No.”

Sam hesitated, before pressing for more. “Did you like him for it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So, you’re telling me he was a suspect.”

“I just said that.”

Sam smiled at the phone. This woman was beginning to remind her of Willy. “Can you give me the cheap-seats version?”

“Simplicity itself,” Ryan said. “Rich kid vanishes on his way home. Parents say he was snatched. We try to rule out that he didn’t just beat feet.”

“How old?”