The doorbell, followed by loud knocking, woke Wylie from a restless sleep Monday morning. He quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before hurrying downstairs to answer the door.
Sheriff Kingman stood there with one of his deputies. Unbelievably, he seemed almost defensive when he said, “I received a tip that we should search your house.”
“From who?” Wylie asked, keeping one hand on the door to block the sheriff from entering.
“It was anonymous,” Kingman replied reluctantly. “A note stuck in the mailbox at the station.”
“But you still need to follow up on it. Okay. I have nothing to hide.” Wylie stepped aside to let them in. “Did the tipster say where you should be searching?”
“From what the note said, they were walking down the alley late in the evening, and saw you carry
