On Harrow Hill

If you haven’t eaten already, there’s asparagus in the fridge, shrimp defrosting on the counter by the sink, and a box of farro by the rice cooker. I should be home by 10:00 p.m.

Love, Me

The note made him smile. Like most contacts with Madeleine, it nudged, at least for a moment, the rest of his life into perspective.

He went to the bathroom, washed his hands and face, kicked off his shoes in favor of a pair of slippers, did a few stretching exercises to loosen muscles that had stiffened in the car, and returned to the kitchen.

After reading the directions on the box, he put farro, water, butter, and salt in the rice cooker and turned it on. He shelled the shrimp and put a handful of asparagus spears in a bowl for the microwave. Then he went into the den and woke up his laptop.

It was 9:01 p.m. when he accessed the livestream section on the RAM News website.

The graphic pyrotechnics of the opening teasers were underway. Over a strident drumbeat soundtrack, letters were whirling in from all sides of the screen to form headlines:

—RAM NEWSBREAKER—

HORRIFYING MURDER SPREE

DID SATANIC KILLER RISE FROM THE DEAD?

Those words burst into jagged pieces, only to reform in a second series of headlines:

RURAL TOWN TERRIFIED

MAN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING BREAKS OUT OF COFFIN

VICTIMS’ THROATS CUT

These words in turn flew off the screen, revealing a TV news desk under a red-white-and-blue RAM logo. A neatly groomed TV anchor was sitting at a three-quarter angle to the camera, holding a pen and gazing with concern at his clipboard. Gurney recognized him from RAM’s overheated coverage of the White River murders. His anchor partner at the time was Stacey Kilbrick, a RAM star who suffered an on-screen breakdown at the gruesome finale of that case.

As the camera moved in, he lowered his clipboard, looked up, and began speaking in a voice that seemed too thin to support the gravity of his tone.

“Good evening. I’m Rory Kronck. We have a huge story for you tonight regarding the terrifying events in the once-tranquil village of Larchfield, New York. Our own Kelly Tremain is there right now. We’ll get her live report in just a moment. First, I’ll bring you up to speed on this mind-boggling situation.”

He turned in his seat to face the camera head-on. “Our story begins on a stormy night with Billy Tate—a known practitioner of witchcraft—climbing onto the roof of his village church. As he was spray-painting a satanic symbol on the steeple, he was struck by lightning and hurled to the ground below—killed instantly, according to the county medical examiner. His body was moved to a nearby mortuary. His next of kin arrived in the wee hours of the morning and asked that the body be placed in a closed coffin, pending a decision on its final disposition. The closed and latched coffin was placed in a storage unit, where it remained throughout the day.”

Kronck paused for dramatic effect. “Later that evening something bizarre occurred. Billy Tate came back to life. RAM News has obtained a copy of the video from the security camera at Peale’s Funeral Home. The sounds you will hear are those of Billy Tate attempting to break out of that closed coffin. A word of warning. If you suffer from claustrophobia, you may find this extremely disturbing.”

The mortuary video had been edited down to its key moments—from the first muffled sounds inside the storage unit to the eerie emergence of the hooded figure into the embalming room, his unsteady movements, his breaking into the glass case and removal of the scalpels, and his disappearance out the back door.

Gurney was wondering how RAM had gotten hold of the video—who had leaked it, with what motive—but those thoughts were interrupted by Kronck’s next comments.

“That’s the second time I’ve watched that video, and I still find it bone-chilling, especially the end, when Tate goes off into the night to begin his gruesome murder spree. It’s like a scene in a horror movie, except this is real—tragically, frighteningly real.” He shook his head, as if he were being forced to face the depravity at the fringes of humanity.

“Okay,” he said with sudden resolve. “Let’s move on to our next video—the press conference held by Larchfield’s police chief.”

This video opened with Morgan standing at a podium in the headquarters conference room. He was wearing a full-dress uniform with gold chief’s stars on his jacket collar. He was holding a sheet of paper with both hands. His anxiety was palpable. Several rows of chairs were set up facing him. All were occupied.