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“So you had a hockey game in another town,” Reynolds prompted. “And that night, Leo and Diana were hit by a train. They died instantly.” Reynolds’s hand goes to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“You know what was out here, right?” I do, but I want her to tell it. “A Nike missile base,” she says. “A lot of people don’t believe that, but that’s what these were originally. During the Cold War—I’m talking about the 1950s—the army hid these bases in suburban towns like ours.
“So why now, Maura? Why after fifteen years is someone killing the rest of the Conspiracy Club?”