On Harrow Hill

The barn was locked, but the grass and plants around it had been tended to.

When Gurney made his way back to the trailhead, a Ford Explorer was waiting there. Slovak was in the driver’s seat with his window open.

“I thought I should come down for you myself.”

Gurney got in, and Slovak began maneuvering the Explorer up the narrow trail. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said after negotiating a sharp turn. “I left a message for Aspern, like you suggested, saying we found a vehicle on his property that was used in the commission of a crime. I didn’t know how to describe the location, so I gave him the GPS coordinates.”

“Good.”

After weaving their way through the ascending labyrinth of trails, they came to a barrier of yellow police tape. Slovak parked the Explorer next to a big Sequoia SUV. There was a Russell College emblem on the door.

“Is that instead of the usual forensics van?” asked Gurney.

“Barstow was afraid she couldn’t get up here without four-wheel drive.” His tone seemed to question her decision.

He pulled a pair of shoe covers out of a box behind his seat and waited for Gurney to put them on. They got out of the Explorer, slipped under the tape, and followed the trail on foot.

Rounding a curve in the woods, they came upon the orange Jeep. The doors were wide open, and one of Barstow’s helpers was going over the interior with an evidence vac. Barstow was on her phone, but when she saw Gurney she ended the call.

“Lots of prints, lots of blood,” she said.

She began pointing out numerous chemical-stained finger- and handprints—some blue, some purple—on the Jeep’s interior surfaces and the driver’s-side door.

Gurney took a closer look. “Two different reagents?”

“I wasn’t sure with some of the prints whether I was seeing blood or something else. I applied leucocrystal violet on those. Amido black on the others. I like the way it works on nonporous surfaces, and I figured the blue prints it produces would create a better contrast. I like the crisp look of the amido black in photographs. But I used the violet over there.” She pointed to what looked like a sneaker print in the soft earth by the open driver’s door. “I wasn’t sure about that little spot of discoloration. It turned out to be blood.”

“Everything is going to the lab for DNA?”

“Scrapings from all the prints and from the driver’s seat and headrest, plus the rag and scalpel we found on the vehicle floor. Like you said yesterday, Tate isn’t shy about letting us know where he’s been. Be nice if he’d let us know where he is now.”

“Speaking of that,” said Gurney, half turning to include Slovak, “have either of you considered bringing in a K9 team?”

“Not me,” said Barstow. “Chasing and capturing is Brad’s department.” The hint of mischief in her tone turned the fact into a challenge.

Slovak had a deer-in-the-headlights moment. “A K9 team . . . to track Tate? Can we still do that? The Jeep’s been here for a while now, right? And we’ve had rain.”

Gurney turned to Barstow. “Can you tell from the tire tracks how long it’s been here?”

“I’ve tried to figure that out. I think the Jeep arrived, was here for maybe a day or so, then left and returned. I don’t think it’s been moved for the last couple of days.”

“Can you tell from which direction it arrived? Or which way it left?”

She shook her head. “The only reason I can say anything at all is that the spot he chose has relatively soft soil.”

Gurney turned to Slovak. “You’re right about there having been rain, but it wasn’t very heavy. The scent may still be followable. It’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever brought in a K9 team.”

“All you need to do is get in touch with the NYSP regional barracks and tell them you need K9 assistance in tracking a fugitive.”

Slovak’s frown deepened. “The thing is, the chief’s dead set against involving the state police.”

“What he’s dead set against is turning case jurisdiction over to BCI. This is different. The K9 unit just provides tactical support. There’s no question of them taking over the case. If you call now, they may be able to have a team here tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” said Slovak with lingering reluctance.

When he stepped away, Barstow gave Gurney a quizzical look. “You really think a dog can track Tate down at this point?”

“Not unless he’s still in these woods. But I’d like to know what direction he took out of here. I’m also thinking about your opinion that the Jeep came here, left, and came back. I’m wondering how that pattern might fit with the other facts we have. What are you smiling at?”

“You. I can see your brain working like a 3D design program—tilting and turning the shapes to see how they join up. So, tell me how you’re seeing it right now.”