On Harrow Hill

“I warned him not to get in the way of our official investigation, that any interference could be dangerous, and that it could result in charges of obstruction of justice.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He said he would ask the good Lord to take special care of me in the tribulations of the End Days.”

“Is this the same creepy character your wife was battling?”

Morgan nodded, looking down at the table as if to avoid the subject.

Slovak knocked on the jamb of the open door.

Morgan looked relieved at the interruption and waved Slovak in. “What’s up, Brad?”

“We have confirmation of the time connection between the Tate sighting by Ruby-June Hooper and the murder of Mary Kane. Dave’s suggestion that we check Kane’s phone for audio recordings paid off.”

He took a phone out of his jacket pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and laid the phone on Morgan’s desk. “According to the time code, this recording was made at 2:10 a.m. the night of Angus Russell’s murder—right after Tate’s encounter with Hooper.”

The recording began to play.

(Sound) Breezes passing through tree foliage.

(Sound) Series of shrill descending birdcall notes.

(Woman’s voice) “Eastern screech owl, courtship call.”

(Sound) Series of shrill descending birdcall notes.

(Sound) Breezes.

(Sound) Series of shrill descending birdcall notes.

(Woman’s voice) “Courtship call from a different direction. Male moving to new perch.”

(Sound) Breezes . . . approaching vehicle . . . growing louder . . . slowing . . . stopping.

(Woman’s voice) “Oh my goodness! What on earth are you doing out here?”

(Sound) Vehicle door opening. Engine running softly.

(Male voice, indistinct)

(Woman’s voice) “Blessed God! What happened to your face?”

(Male voice, indistinct)

(Sound) Series of shrill descending birdcall notes. Breezes. Foliage rustling.

(Woman’s voice) “My God, what . . . what’s wrong with you?”

(Sound) Quick footsteps.

(Male voice, guttural) “Don’t move.”

(Woman’s voice) “Wha—”

(Sound) Rasping, gagging inhalation. Footsteps. Silence. Breezes. Series of shrill descending birdcall notes. Footsteps. Thud of a heavy object hitting the ground. Dragging of a heavy object on the ground, slowly diminishing.

That harsh, gagging gasp on the recording gave Gurney’s image of the murder a vivid reality—worse in its dreadful suddenness than his memory of the woman’s body lying in the drainage swale.

Slovak reached down and tapped an icon on the phone’s screen. “There’s an additional three-minute segment of bird and wind noises—I guess while he was dragging her body across the road—then the sound of his vehicle door being shut and him driving away. Hard to tell from the recording, but it sounds like he made that turn up toward Harrow Hill. The recording continued until the phone battery ran down, but there’s nothing else on it.”

Gurney turned to Morgan. “Since both women apparently recognized him, why did Ruby-June Hooper get a friendly wave and Mary Kane get her throat cut? That’s the key question.”

Morgan turned up his palms in an admission of bafflement.

After a moment, Slovak spoke up. “I do have other news. We managed to track down the number of the phone Tate used for the two text messages he sent from the embalming room. It’s an anonymous prepaid one, but now that we have the number we can ping it for a current location.”

“Is that being done?”

“We’re trying it every ten minutes. So far, he’s got it turned off.”

“Have you found out who he was contacting?”

“Selena Cursen and Chandler Aspern.”

“Aspern? Are you sure?”

“We have no way of knowing who actually picked up the phone, but the cell number the text was sent to is Aspern’s.”

“Interesting. You’ll want to get copies of both texts. Service providers usually retain them for five days, so you’ll need to act quickly.”

“Yes, sir. Just one thing. The Jeep that Tate used is actually registered to Cursen. We added the plate number to the APB, but as far as we know, the last people to see it were those stoners the night before you discovered Linda Mason’s body. But today we got three reports of churches over in Bastenburg being defaced with that weird figure eight thing, painted in blood. So maybe Tate’s got another vehicle.”

“Or maybe an accomplice,” said Gurney. “Do we know Cursen’s whereabouts?”

“I checked with our guys staking out her place. She hasn’t left.”

“Okay. The priority now is getting in touch with the carrier and requesting copies of the Cursen and Aspern texts.”

Slovak nodded and hurried out of the office.

Morgan started rubbing his neck. “That’s all we need, more church desecrations. It’s the kind of crap Gant loves to shout about.”

“You’ll want to get the addresses of those churches and send Kyra’s team out there—to find out if it’s really blood, and if so, whose.”

Morgan nodded vaguely. He picked up a pen from his desk, then put it back. “Dave, I want to apologize.”

“For what?”

“That business about the disappearance of Angus’s business rivals. I honestly didn’t think it amounted to anything. But I should have told you. Total openness, right?”