In Garden City, Kansas, Police Sergeant Leon Shook hung up the phone, a frown on his usually jovial face. He turned around to stare at his friend, Officer Kevin Kennedy. “That was odd. Another tip from a concerned citizen. This one is really nuts.” Leon’s emphasis made it clear he didn’t put much stock in information phoned in by people who didn’t care enough to give their names. He could run the phone number in an attempt to find the identity of the caller, but almost all these tips came from burner phones. No way to trace them.
“What was it this time?” Kevin asked. “Another alien body in a cornfield?”
“Nope. Ann Barton’s body is in Valley View Cemetery. Look for Dorothy.”
Kevin snorted. “Sure. And maybe we can check with the Wizard while we’re there. How many of these crazy calls have we gotten over the years?”
“Hundreds. Along with all the letters and emails. Give some scumbag killer a nickname and the loonies come out of the woodwork. Can’t believe they still contact us after all this time.”
“I guess some of those people were really trying to help.”
Leon laughed. “Yeah, and some of them were just off their rockers. Especially the so-called psychics. Like the one who told us we would discover Ann’s remains in a storm drain on Main Street.”
“Found a drowned rat,” Kevin said with a grin. “I guess her psychic antenna was a little off-kilter.”
“She still calls every few months or so, wanting to know if we’ve found the body yet. As if Ann is going to suddenly pop up after a heavy rain.”
Kevin shook his head. “I don’t think Ann’s in Kansas. My guess is Gerard took her over state lines. The FBI went through this area with a fine-toothed comb. If she was here, they’d have found her.”
Leon sighed. “I know, but I really wish we could locate her body. I’d love to give her parents some closure. Henry doesn’t even ask for updates anymore. I think he’s given up.”
Henry and Beth Barton were good people. The loss of their daughter Ann had devastated their lives. Then, six years ago, Alan Gerard, the Blue-Eyed Killer, had confessed to murdering her. He was finally convicted two years later and had been in jail the last four years. But he still wouldn’t tell anyone where Ann was. Leon couldn’t imagine how the Bartons felt. How they had survived. “Day by day,” Beth had said once. “You just put one foot in front of the other. You can’t worry about tomorrow because it’s too much to handle.”
“So what now?” Kevin asked.
“You know what?” Leon stood up and grabbed the jacket that was draped over the back of his desk chair. “Let’s go. We have to do everything we can, no matter how ridiculous the lead seems.”
Kevin started to say something else but Leon silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s for the Bartons.”
“Maybe we should just follow the yellow brick road,” Kevin grumbled. Without saying another word, he got up from his own chair, grabbed the keys to the squad car, and the two men headed out the front door, telling the chief’s personal assistant where they were going. Chief Henderson was speaking at a meeting of the local Kiwanis Club. If Leon had felt the tip was important enough, he would have interrupted the meeting. But law enforcement had been following bad leads about the Blue-Eyed Killer for almost twenty years. Bothering the chief with another one could get an officer stuck on desk duty until he had been sufficiently punished. Especially a lead as goofy as this one.
The two men got into their squad car and drove toward the cemetery, stopping briefly to get breakfast from the Garden City Coffee Shop. Their omelets would keep until they got back to the office. Since Leon was certain this trip would be a waste of time, he wasn’t worried about being gone too long. If it took longer than he anticipated, they could always nuke their food in the office microwave.
When they reached the cemetery, they pulled over to the side of the road to figure out their next step. The Valley View Cemetery was rather infamous. The bodies of the Clutter family, murdered by Richard Hickock and Perry Smith and immortalized in the book In Cold Blood, were buried there. The irony of looking for the victim of a serial killer in the same place the Clutters had been laid to rest wasn’t lost on Leon. Even with its rather ominous history, Valley View was actually a lovely place, peaceful and well-maintained. Leon and his wife, Linda, lived nearby and frequently took walks through the cemetery when the weather was nice.
“So how do we do this?” Kevin asked.
“Let’s head over to the office. Ask about graves that belong to women named Dorothy.”
“Sounds good.”
Leon started the car and drove over to the cemetery’s office. The director was at lunch, but his administrative assistant, Bonnie, was sitting at her desk. Leon told her what he wanted, and although she looked at him oddly, she didn’t ask any questions.
“Give me a minute to pull up that information,” she said.
She began tapping her keyboard and a few minutes later had a list of women named Dorothy buried in the cemetery. She printed it out and handed it to Leon. “Wanna tell me what this is for?”
Leon shook his head. “Not really.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll probably sleep better if you keep it to yourself.”
“We’re running down a lead that’s most likely a dead end. Telling you would be a waste of my time and yours. I’ve got breakfast from the coffee shop in my car. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”
Bonnie winked at him. “Totally understand. Knock yourself out.”
Leon and Kevin said good-bye and stepped outside. Leon studied the list for a moment. “Nine names and locations here. I guess we’ll start on one side and work our way to the other.”
They got back in their car, and Leon drove while Kevin gave him directions. Although they had trouble finding a couple of the graves, one by one they crossed names off their list. Leon couldn’t help but notice how lush and beautiful the cemetery was. Their reason for being there seemed almost profane in the lovely, peaceful setting.
At the seventh grave Leon voiced his frustration. “What the heck are we doing? I’ll bet some of the local teenagers set us up. They’re probably hiding somewhere watching us. Getting a big kick out of this.” Even though he didn’t put much stock in the anonymous tip, the voice on the phone hadn’t sounded like a kid’s. And there had been a serious tone to it that made it hard for Leon to dismiss it out of hand. But maybe that was because he wanted so badly to bring the Bartons some peace. To let them bury their child.
“Like you said, it’s for the Bartons,” Kevin reminded him. “Only two more and we can head back to the station. I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
They got back in the car and drove to the eighth name on the list. As soon as Leon got out, he noticed something lying on the grave. As they got closer, he realized someone had stuck a stake through a piece of paper and jammed it into the ground next to the headstone. “What in the world . . .” Kevin started to pick it up but Leon grabbed him before he could. “Don’t touch it. Call the chief.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s sheet music.” Leon turned toward Kevin, his eyes wide. “It’s that song. ‘Blue-Eyed Angel.’”
As Kevin dialed the police chief, Leon’s heart pounded in his chest. Was someone playing a really cruel joke, or had they finally found Ann Barton?