Hidden Heritage by Charlotte Hinger

us in Topeka tomorrow.”
    I jolted to attention. “Why?”
    â€œDidn’t say.”
    It had been difficult to convince the KBI that we were not a bunch of fools out here. Although I had finally established a good relationship with a few of the members of the team, two were my favorite: Nancy Sparks and Frank Dimon. Dimon was a severe man who seldom smiled, but he was fair.
    â€œTalk about bad timing.”
    Obviously my goal of concentrating on immigrants was shot all to hell. I couldn’t even remember the next group to arrive. Not Mexicans. I was sure of that.
    I put my work away and drove home, mentally reshuffling preparations for a weekend teeming with stepchildren, my sister, grandchildren, and various friends in the community.

Chapter Six
    Agent Dimon ushered us in and beckoned toward a chair. His tidy desktop gleamed and his office always smelled as if someone had just sprayed it with lemon wax. I was out of uniform and wore gray twill slacks and a free flowing white linen top. My feet were chilly in sandals. Combined with long silver earrings and silver bracelets, I felt frivolous in the presence of this lean, austere man who still called me “Miss Albright” as though “Lottie” would invite too much familiarity.
    â€œI’m sure you’ve wondered why I asked you to come here. Would you like coffee before I begin?” He said this with the self-conscious air of someone who knew he was supposed to be hospitable when he simply wanted to cut to the chase.
    I never refused coffee. He went out into the hallway and came back with a large ceramic cup. Dark-skinned, with short black hair, Dimon was handsome enough. I imagine a number of women had set out to scooch closer to his work-centered soul, and failed.
    â€œThe KBI ran into some problems when it was called in to investigate your most recent murder.”
    I smarted at the “most recent” jab.
    â€œI’ll put all the cards on the table at once. We don’t have to resources to keep doing this. We’re suffering from budget cuts like everyone else. We’ve had to dispatch men to your county that we needed in Johnson County.”
    â€œWe can’t help that,” Sam said. “It’s our right to call in the KBI.”
    â€œYour right, maybe. But it just isn’t working. We would like to start a regional crime center.”
    â€œRegional?”
    â€œYes. You already have a regional coroner system out there.”
    The “out there” sounded like our county was located on Mars.
    â€œThat’s different. Every county elects its own sheriff. It’s the law.”
    â€œIt doesn’t have to be the law. It won’t be too much of a challenge to talk the legislature into going with a regional system.”
    I said nothing. This was between Sam and Dimon.
    â€œSure this isn’t personal?” Sam asked quietly.
    Dimon flushed. “No. Water under the bridge, Sam.”
    I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about.
    â€œIt’s not just your county, but you’ve got to admit you have a dismal track record. A third murder in the last eighteen months.”
    I jumped in. “Now wait just a minute, Frank. We can’t stop murders, but you’re the one who brought up track records. The bureau was called in for both of the previous cases, but it was Sam who eventually solved them.”
    â€œWith your help, Lottie,” Sam said.
    â€œAnd the bureau had filed them under some open case file and then walked away.”
    â€œWell, what did you expect us to do? Leave a man out there full time?”
    â€œThat’s the point. We’re the full-time people,” Sam snapped.
    â€œSam, I assure you there is nothing personal here. But you can’t keep this up forever.”
    Sam’s eyes narrowed at the veiled ageist remark. “Maybe not.”
    He was struggling to keep his voice even. He automatically patted his