On Harrow Hill

“The video was Peale’s stroke of genius. He was close enough to Tate’s size that he could fit into his clothes. He had mortician’s makeup he could use to make his face look convincingly burned and disfigured, at least from a distance. And he borrowed that auto jack from his neighbor as a way of breaking open the casket from the inside. I mentioned a minute ago that I checked the specs on that model. What I discovered was that it was electric and could be operated with a remote. That hole Peale drilled in the bottom of the casket was just right for the power cord. He put the jack in the casket, closed and latched the lid, then used the jack to push it open from the inside, ripping the latches out of the wood. He recorded that ripping, breaking sound. That evening, before the security camera was automatically switched on, he pushed the casket into the cadaver storage unit and stayed in there with it, with the door closed.

“Later, with the camera activated, he made all the sounds we heard on the video, building up to the moment when he played back the sound of the casket being broken open. You saw all the rest on the video—him emerging in Tate’s clothes, stumbling around the room, using Tate’s phone to send those texts to Selena Cursen and Aspern.”

Stryker was leaning forward now. “Why Aspern?”

“Framing Aspern was an option from the beginning, and sending him that text laid the groundwork.”

“What did he do with Tate’s body?”

“Cut off the hands to leave Tate’s fingerprints in the storage unit and wherever else they might be useful, took some blood to leave at Angus’s for DNA identification, then cut the rest of the body into pieces and buried them in the woods near Aspern’s house.”

“My God,” muttered Stryker. In her eyes Gurney could see her mind racing through everything she knew about the case, testing the credibility of what she’d just been told.

A nurse with a friendly face gave a perfunctory knock on the glass door behind Stryker and slid it open. “Sorry to interrupt, I need to look in on my patients.” She checked the numbers on the screen next to Hardwick’s bed and the fluid level in his plastic IV bag.

“I think you’ll live. We’ll keep you here for twenty-four hours, and if all your levels are stable at that point, we’ll turn you loose. One of our aftercare recommendations will be that you try to avoid major head-on collisions. At least for a while.” She smiled and turned to Gurney.

“Any pain?”

“Not really.”

“Good. As far as I know, you’re all set to go.” She smiled again and departed, sliding the glass door shut behind her.

Stryker was frowning, as though her review of the facts had hit a sticking point.

“According to your scenario, Peale went through that elaborate charade of Tate’s revival in the mortuary specifically to create the misleading security camera video. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“But I read in the interview notes that he claimed at first there was no video. Why would he do that?”

“I wondered about that myself—until a computer forensics expert told me that cloud-based backups are so common these days it’s the first thing they’d look for. If Peale was aware of that, he would have known that the video would come to light—and his professed ignorance of its existence would only add to its credibility.”

“You have a high opinion of Mr. Peale’s talent for deception.”

“I do.”

“One more question. If he set up that bloody scene at his house as part of his disappearing act—a way of escaping without anyone thinking he was still alive—why would he take time out to kill you?”

Gurney shrugged. “It doesn’t seem very practical, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ll have to give that some thought.”

Hardwick spoke up. “I’ll tell you why. Once Sherlock here latches on to something, the son of a bitch never lets go. Peale was not stupid. Maybe he figured the only way to be sure this guy wouldn’t come knocking on his door a year down the road was to ice him now.”

After a long silence, Stryker nodded.

“That’s enough for now. We’ll be in touch.”

Since Gurney and Madeleine had ridden together to the hospital in the local EMS ambulance, they had no vehicle there, and an off-duty security guard offered to drive them home.

When they arrived at the point between the barn and the pond, where the town road dead-ended into their property, Madeleine asked that they be let out. It took Gurney a minute to manage his exit from the car and get upright on the crutches the hospital had provided. After the guard had refused Madeleine’s offer of payment for the ride and had headed back down the road, she suggested sitting for a while in the pair of lawn chairs by the pond.

With Gurney being new to crutches, it took some time to get there. When they were finally settled in, Madeleine explained that she was purposely delaying the sight of the burned henhouse and the terrifying memories it would evoke. She felt all that would be easier to face if she could wrap herself first in the beauty of the morning.