On Harrow Hill

In the meantime, he got out the copy of the case file he’d received from Slovak and went to the section that dealt with the details of the security camera video from the night of the Aspern shooting. He was hoping it contained contact information for the company that installed the camera.

It did. It even included a Larchfield-area phone number, which he called.

After providing his name and the badge number on his LPD credentials, he was transferred to the company’s installation manager.

Yes, he was familiar with the details of the Russell job.

Yes, only one camera had been installed.

Yes, that was unusual on a house of that size.

Yes, additional cameras had been recommended, but Mrs. Russell insisted on proceeding gradually.

Yes, Mrs. Russell had chosen the location for the first installation. In fact, she’d even specified the camera’s angle and field of view.

Gurney emphasized that these inquiries were confidential aspects of an ongoing investigation and thanked the manager for his help.

Like the disappearance of the phone and the bottle of wine, the installation information by itself proved nothing. Lorinda’s evident manipulation of the situation could be rendered meaningless by a defense attorney. However, it provided support for his growing suspicion and additional justification for the sting-like operation he was about to set in motion.

Rarely had he been so sure of anyone’s complicity in a murder, with so little hard evidence. He was certain that Lorinda would fail to call the police. About Gant’s personal involvement in Aspern’s death, he was less certain. He was hoping the following night’s surveillance would add some clarity.

Gurney’s next call was to Slovak.

“Brad, I need to examine Aspern’s house. Can you send someone out there tomorrow morning to unlock it?”

“Do you think we missed something?”

“Nothing specific. In fact, I have no idea what I’m looking for. It’s just an itch I sometimes get—to walk through the world of a victim or a perp and see whatever I can see.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure the place is unlocked. If you want help with your walk-through, let me know.”

Gurney’s “walk-through” itch was real enough. But he also wanted to use the Aspern property as the control site for the drone. It was isolated, yet not too far from the Russell property, so if some malfunction caused the drone to come down in the intervening woods, he could easily retrieve it. And what he’d told Slovak would serve as a useful cover story in the event that he was seen there.

With that taken care of, he returned to his rough draft of the message to Lorinda. He read it over several times and made a few small changes. Then he entered it as a text on the anonymous phone and sent it to Lorinda’s cell number.

A simple action—with the potential for game-changing consequences.

He intended to pay a visit to Morgan the following morning to fill him in on the operation. Despite Morgan’s emotional state, letting him know about a major investigative initiative remained a formal necessity.

But that was a task for tomorrow. Seeing the case demanded nothing else of him for the remainder of the afternoon, he turned his attention to the alpaca shed.

By the time Madeleine got home from the clinic, he’d cut the lumber to the right sizes for the stud walls, rafters, and door framing and he’d restacked it, ready for use—without, however, proceeding with the actual construction, which he knew she wanted to be involved in.

His accomplishment left him feeling relaxed and pleasantly virtuous. Their dinner together was happy and stress-free, with frequent bursts of laughter. They headed for bed that evening earlier than usual.

He also woke up earlier than usual, well before dawn.

The euphoria of the previous evening had been replaced by the uncertainties of the Larchfield murders. He knew that trying to get back to sleep with that tangle of questions on his mind was pointless.

He showered and dressed and made himself a cup of coffee.

At daybreak he was on the patio with a second cup, imagining how Morgan might react to the explanation of the trap being set for Lorinda—and how Lorinda might react to the text he’d sent her.

At sunrise he heard his phone ringing in the house. He hurried inside to get to it before it woke Madeleine. He was surprised to see Kyra Barstow’s name on the screen.

“What’s up?”

“I asked Keith Boron, one of our computer techs, to analyze those video files you asked about. He told me this morning that he’s confident of the integrity of ninety-nine percent of the digital content, but there’s one percent that bothers him.”

“Bothers him how?”

“He says there’s a three-second sonic anomaly in the mortuary video.”

“What kind of sonic anomaly?”

“He said that the sound of the casket breaking open—the sound of the wood splintering—created a peculiar audio-frequency footprint.”

“What might that mean?”