On Harrow Hill

Gurney nodded. “So you don’t think Billy Tate was a bad person?”

“Not deep-down bad. Marched to his own drummer, for sure. And he did have a temper. Didn’t take crap, that’s a fact. A fierce streak in that boy. And now everyone’s saying he died the night before I saw him out on that road—just thinking that in my mind gives me a cold feeling. Right now, sir, I feel a shiver right through me.”

“I can understand that,” said Gurney. “Have you told anyone you saw him that night?”

“No, sir! Folks already think Vaughn and I are long gone around the bend. No way I’m handing them more ammunition.”

Gurney nodded sympathetically. “Is there anything else you want to tell us?”

“Yes, sir. More like a question, though. I’m talking here with a troubling notion in my mind—that the Billy Tate I saw was what they call on the TV shows ‘the walking dead.’ Like the horror movies, which is not what I truly believe. But I’ve been told by reputable people with their heads on straight that Billy Tate is dead. So, that’s my question to you. Is that boy dead, alive, or somewhere in between?”

Gurney sat back in his chair and looked over at Morgan. It was up to him to decide how much to reveal.

“Well, Ruby, I’d say we’re currently of the opinion that he may be alive.”

Ruby-June Hooper smiled broadly for the first time since they arrived. “Thank you, sir! That’s a trouble off my mind.” She gave the dog an enthusiastic scratching behind the ears. “You hear that, Tucker? Mama’s still got her marbles. Ain’t nobody carting us off to the loony bin. Not just yet.”

Morgan handed her his card. “If you see him again, Ruby, let us know as fast as you can. That’s my personal number. Day or night.”

“I thank you. If Vaughn had the slightest idea about anything, he’d thank you, too.”

On their way out through the thicket, Morgan wondered aloud if he’d revealed too much to Ruby. Too little? Should he have asked her to keep the information to herself? Gurney said that it probably didn’t matter—which seemed neither to surprise nor reassure Morgan. Back at the road, while Morgan remained absorbed in second-guessing his response, Gurney filled Slovak in on what Ruby-June had told them.

Slovak’s eyes filled with speculative excitement. “So, Tate has a friendly exchange with her, then drives another mile down the road, runs into another local lady who just happens to be out, doing God knows what, at two in the morning. This time he gets out of his car, cuts her throat, and dumps her in a drainage ditch—on his way to kill Angus Russell!”

“That’s one way of putting it together. What information do you have on this new victim?”

“Mary Kane, age seventy, retired school librarian. Lived in a small cottage, across from the first turnoff to Harrow Hill. Former gatehouse of the lakeside estate behind it.”

“Any estimated time of death?”

Slovak ran his hand back over the bristly red hair on the top of his head. “I’d guess at least two days. Classic signs of early-stage decomp. Fallow passed by a couple of minutes ago on his way there. He’ll probably give us a tighter time window. If it’s between two and three days, that would line up with the Russell murder—and be consistent with what the Hooper woman just told you.”

Classic signs of early-stage decomp sounded to Gurney like Slovak’s jargony effort to sound more inured to this sort of thing than he actually was. The sight of a two-day-old corpse in a ditch would leave any young detective unnerved. The odor alone was gut-wrenching.

Emerging finally from his tangle of second thoughts, Morgan spoke up. “Brad, assuming that Kyra now has control of the homicide scene, this would be a good time for you to take a run out to Selena Cursen’s place. Take Dwayne Wolman with you, in case there’s any difficulty. Remember, go in easy and see what you can get. If we need to go in hard later, that’s an option. The video of Tate walking out of the mortuary gives us proof that he’s alive, so we have reasonable grounds for a search warrant at his girlfriend’s place, if necessary.”

“You think Tate might be there now?”

“I’m guessing he’d head for someplace less obvious. But if you get a hint of his presence, call for backup.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Slovak was turning to leave, Gurney asked, “How are your people doing on the search for security cameras in the area?”

“Three so far that seem to be in position to capture vehicle traffic to or from Harrow Hill. We’re tracking down the property owners to get access to the files, assuming they’ve been saved. I’ll keep you informed.”

Morgan turned to Gurney. “You ready to go to the murder site?”

Their destination was a two-minute drive along the same road. A barricade was set up a hundred yards or so before the site to divert civilian traffic. The cop manning it moved it out of the way to let the Tahoe through.