Page 52 of Max's Mission

“Not quite. Margot and I found some skeletal remains.”

Only a slight crackle on the line for several beats told Max the call was still active.

“Come again? Hell,” Asher muttered. “Are you serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t. Anyway, the cops and Agent Dye are here. Can you get me a name and phone number for Dale Conroy’s son?”

“Sure. Give me a sec.”

Soft noises came over the line as Asher moved around. They heard the low murmur of Esther’s voice, then Asher’s reply that everything was fine. A moment later, typing sounded.

“Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Another pause came over the line, then, “The son’s name is Edward. I’ll text you the number and address. Do you have any idea who the body is? Is it the owner, Dale?”

“We don’t know. Forensics said whoever it is has been dead less than a year. My guess is sometime over the summer. He or she’s covered in prairie grass, which is much greener than anywhere else.”

“Damn. Okay. Keep me posted, yeah? I’ll help however I can. I just sent that info.”

A banner appeared at the top of the screen with a text from Asher.

“It came through. Can you run a search for a connection between the Conroys and Tad?”

“Already am, but I’ll double down on it.”

“Great. Thanks, Asher.” Max glanced around.

“Yep.”

Dye and the sergeant approached.

“Gotta go. Bye.”

“Later.”

Max hung up. He cast a quick look at Margot, whose expression looked rather pinched. Reaching out, he took her hand briefly and squeezed it reassuringly. Tad’s death was growing more complicated by the second.

“You get that info?” Dye asked.

“Yep.” Max switched to his texts and opened the one from Asher. “You got a pen and paper?”

Dye pulled a notebook from his pocket. “Fire away.”

Max read off the information.

The agent’s mouth quirked upward as he finished writing. He shook his head, clicking his pen. “Whoever was on the end of that call, you need to persuade them to come work for the bureau.”

Max scoffed. “Even if I was so inclined, he never would.” Asher had been there and done that and had zero desire to ever do it again.

“He could do a lot of good on this side of the law.”

He held Dye’s gaze, silently telegraphing it was time to change the subject. “He does a lot of good right where he is.” Max tipped a finger at the notebook in the agent’s hand. “How about you call that number and find out if Dale Conroy is in St. Louis?”

The sergeant, who’d been standing there listening, arched an eyebrow at Max’s tone, but wisely stayed out of it.

Dye’s expression soured. He stared at Max for several seconds, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it to argue. Shaking his head, he took out his phone and dialed.

Max could hear the quiet buzz of the line ringing. It cut off after four rings, and he heard the low murmur of a man’s voice.

“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you. I’m trying to reach Dale Conroy.” Dye’s voice took on a friendly tone, the serious agent evaporating.

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