On Harrow Hill

More disturbing were his visualizations of Billy Tate in that tightly closed casket. Having miraculously survived that dreadful fall, he was surely in great physical pain as he regained consciousness. And the terror of finding himself in that dark, constricted place—it was awful even to imagine it. Gurney felt the grip of fear in his own stomach as he pictured Tate desperately struggling in the panic of his confinement before the latch screws finally gave way.

Immersed in this horror, Gurney came within inches of hitting a cow that had escaped from its pasture. It was the nudge he needed to keep his mind on the road.

He arrived in Larchfield at 7:55 a.m. He parked, switched off his phone to avoid interruptions, and headed into the incongruously genteel police headquarters. The classic Victorian building appeared more suited to tea parties than criminal investigations.

A uniformed officer met him inside the front door and led him along a carpeted hall to the conference room. Brad Slovak was standing in front of an urn with a coffee mug in one hand and a large donut in the other. Several paces away, Kyra Barstow was speaking to a wiry woman with a knifelike nose and vigilant eyes. Morgan was standing by himself at the head of the long table, an anxious frown creasing his forehead, a phone to his ear.

When he saw Gurney he ended his call and lowered the phone. He turned to the others. “We’re all here. Let’s get started.”

He took the chair at the head of the table. Barstow and the wiry woman sat on one side of the table, Gurney on the opposite side. Slovak brought the remainder of his donut over on a napkin and took the chair next to Gurney.

“We obviously have a monster of a case on our hands,” said Morgan.

Morgan sounded so tense that Gurney expected to see beads of sweat on his forehead at any moment. He took a deep breath and continued, “Because Tate’s survival comes as such a shock, especially to those of us who saw him fall, I’ve asked Kyra to present the forensic data—to remove any doubt about the facts. We can’t afford any more false starts.” He gestured toward Barstow. “Lay it out for us.”

She glanced around the table, her gaze settling on Gurney.

“The evidence is consistent with Tate’s revival inside the casket, followed by his emergence from it,” she began. “So, it makes sense to look first at the evidence of what happened inside the casket, prior to its being broken open; then the evidence of his emergence from the casket and from the storage unit; then the evidence of his movements around the embalming room and his departure from the building.”

With obvious confidence in the logic of this approach, she continued. “Beginning inside the casket, we found ample blood and print evidence of Tate’s being placed there, as Peale reported. The inside of the casket lid has scratch marks and microscopic residues of his fingernails, as well as complete handprints consistent with an effort to push up against the closed lid—an effort that succeeded, due in part to the casket’s cheap construction. Greta here will describe the evidence of that success.”

She gestured toward the woman seated next to her. “A word of explanation for Detective Gurney. Dr. Greta Vickerz is a professor of mechanical engineering at Russell College and a consultant to the forensic sciences department. She has particular expertise in stress fractures in wood.”

Barstow tapped an icon on her phone. The sliding panel in the wall opened, revealing the large monitor screen. A moment later a photo appeared that showed the splintered area on the edge of the casket.

Vickerz spoke with an Eastern European accent. “This splintered part that you are seeing, it is where the screws were pulled out of the wood as a result of upward force being exerted against the inside of the lid. The bad splintering you are seeing is due to flimsy construction of the casket. Ironic that shoddy materials get some credit for saving a life. If it was better made, the man inside would eventually have died from hypoxia or carbon dioxide toxicity.”

She paused, and Gurney asked, “Are you sure the force that broke open the casket came from inside it?”

“Absolutely. There is no indication of a pry bar, which would leave definite marks. There’s no way a force sufficient to splinter the wood could have been applied from outside the casket without leaving tool traces. If you wish, I can show our micro-­photos of the torn fibers and explain exactly how the fracturing process occurred.”

Morgan intervened. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” He glanced at Gurney, as if seeking agreement, but got no reaction.

Barstow thanked Vickerz, who excused herself from the room, and continued her evidence narrative.