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Alison watches as the compact woman consumes the giant Chipotle burrito at the kitchen table in her modest house. Poppy McGee has explained that she just moved back to town, which is why she’s living with her father in her childhood home. The officer keeps checking her phone, waiting to get the all clear from Alison’s father.

No word yet, not even an update.

Ryan has eaten not one, but two burritos.

Alison and Poppy retreat to the living room while Ryan stays in the kitchen to call his parents. The room has a worn lounge chair, a stand for old-time TV trays. Alison is too wired to sit still, so she paces. A framed photo catches her eye: Poppy’s father next to his best friends from the war. Alison’s father looks so young.

But it’s another photo that takes her breath away. Two couples wearing flower leis, sitting at a table with giant cocktails in front of them. It’s Poppy’s and Alison’s parents apparently on a vacation together. Her mom is laughing, a big openmouthed smile. It’s odd seeing photos you never knew existed of your parents.

“My dad really admires yours,” Poppy says, drawing up beside her. “Said he was the bravest man he ever met.”

Alison says, “It looks like our moms were friends too.” She picks up the vacation photo.

Poppy’s phone rings and she quickly examines the screen. Alison watches to see if it’s her father. Poppy shakes her head that it’s not him, then heads down the hallway to take the call in private.

At the same time, Ryan enters the living room.

“You get hold of your parents?” she asks.

He nods. “Not sure I’ve calmed them down, but yeah. I’ll go see them tonight.” Alison knows he’s keeping his distance until he knows it’s safe for them.

Poppy comes rushing back into the living room. “I need to go,” she says.

“What’s going on? Is my dad okay?”

The young sheriff’s deputy has a dire look on her face. “I just got a call from my friend at KBI…” She pauses, explains, “It’s Kansas’s version of the FBI. She heard from her contact at the Bureau who had information on Patrick Donnelly.”

“The guy they found in my dad’s car in the lake?” Alison says.

Poppy nods. “He was an FBI confidential informant, I knew that.” Poppy stops to catch her breath. “But his FBI handler… she apparently was turned. She and Donnelly had a relationship. The FBI fired her when the Bureau uncovered it after Patrick Donnelly disappeared.”

“I don’t understand,” Ryan says.

“The agent’s name is Jane Fincher.”

Alison is about to ask when Poppy says, “She’s my contact. The one who set up the meet for your dad.”

Terror engulfs Alison at the realization: Fincher is the dirty agent who set them up in Philly. Who was supposed to set them up in WITSEC but sent them to a grimy warehouse to be killed by O’Leary’s henchmen. Who was dating Patrick Donnelly, the man Alison’s father killed at Suncatcher Lake…

“I need to go,” Poppy says, her tone desperate.

“We’ll come with you,” Ryan says.

“No, you shouldn’t, it could be—”

“We’re coming,” Alison says.

The three race to the door. Poppy thrusts it open and is stopped in her tracks by a man standing in the entryway. He’s older, has a kind face.

But he’s holding a gun.

“Hi there. My name is Chaz. Do what I say and no one has to get hurt.”