CHAPTER NINETEEN
“DETECTIVE WILKS?” THE officer at the front desk downstairs spoke through Connie’s phone intercom. “You got a call from a Sheriff Nash Ketchum. He says he’s with the Edgemere, Maryland Police Department.”
“Edgemere?” Connie twirled her pen between her fingers. “Thanks, send it through.”
The officer transferred the call and Connie answered, “Hello, this is Detective Connie Wilks.”
“Detective Wilks,” a gruff, mature-sounding voice with a heavy Southern twang replied. “I’m Sheriff Nash Ketchum at the Edgemere Police Department.” He coughed between words. “Excuse me; I got to give up the smokes. You’re the officer on the Boyce Vickers’ case?”
Connie shot up. “Yes, I am.”
“We found his phone.”
“His cell phone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How did you find it?”
“A little girl found
