“Won’t be the same without you,” McAdams said. “Do something especially obnoxious so I won’t miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Harvard. Believe it or not, I probably learned as much from you as you did from me.”

Decker’s cell rang and the screen showed Cindy’s name. She had started Homicide last week and he hadn’t heard a peep from her. No news is usually good news, but with children there was always this low level of anxiety that the other shoe was about to drop. Or maybe it was his own anxiety about moving away.

He swiped the icon. “Hi there, stranger. How are you?”

“Doing okay. And you?”

“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” A pause. “How’s Homicide treating you?”

“Well, a certain homicide detective is getting a sore backside from getting kicked in the butt.”

“Nature of the beast,” Decker said. “It’s either an easy solve or leads that go nowhere.”

“That’s what they tell me. Right now, I’m doing a lot of computer work for ongoing cases when the detectives are out in the field.”

“Computer work is part of the training.”

“It is and I’m comfortable in front of a screen. My compulsive nature is an asset here. Any detail I do point out at a crime scene is truly appreciated.”

“Fabulous.”

She sighed. “I’ve been on two death notifications. Does it ever get easier?”

“No.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she said. “I suppose that’s what motivates us more than anything. Trying to get some answers for the families.”

“Truth, justice, and the American way,” Decker said. “Are you integrating okay?”

“Very well, actually. My colleagues seem happy with my can-do attitude, even if I border on hyperbolic. I smile through my frustration and no one is the wiser.”

“Good for you.”

“Thank you.” A pause. “I’m not actually calling about me. Remember you asked me to check on Brock Baer with the ALPR data center? I got a hit. I think your guy has been arrested in Kelbo, Missouri.”

“Really?” Decker brought up Google on his computer screen and typed in Kelbo, Missouri. “What charge was he brought in on?”

“Burglary.”

“Where the heck is Kelbo, Missouri?”

“It’s in the Ozarks.”

“Okay, here it is.” Decker enlarged the map. “Where’s the next largest city?”

“It’s about twenty minutes from Springfield, Missouri, which, in turn, is about forty-five minutes away from Branson, Missouri—the country music city.”

Decker paused. “Don’t tell me our guy is in a band?”