The Viper

Still, the medical hypothesis was appealing. Gurney could imagine Lerman noticing some symptom of trouble . . . going to his nearby urgent care facility . . . follow-up appointments with a specialist. Suppose Lerman faced a serious medical issue. How might that news have changed him, changed his priorities? Might it have given him the reckless, nothing-to-lose attitude that the blackmail scheme seemed to require? Might it explain—

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a lamp being switched on in the bedroom across the hall, then the sound of Madeleine’s approaching footsteps.

“Do you realize what time it is?” she said, standing in the doorway. There was something accusatory in her tone, as though his being up had disturbed her sleep.

There was no light on in the den, and he could barely see her in the moonlight coming through the window.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

She made a sound that he took for a sarcastic laugh.

He ignored it. “Suppose Lerman was facing some medical issue, perhaps even dying. Suppose he saw the opportunity to blackmail Ziko Slade as a no-lose proposition. Suppose he imagined that getting his hands on a million dollars and passing it along to his son and daughter would make up for his failings as a father. Suppose—”

“Back up a minute! There must have been an autopsy. Wouldn’t it have revealed some medical calamity if one existed?”

“It was a forensic autopsy, not a clinical one.”

“Meaning what?”

“The purpose of a forensic autopsy is to determine if a death occurred naturally or unnaturally—and if unnaturally, by what means. If the ME determines that a victim has died as a direct result of his head being chopped off, there’s no forensic reason to search for other morbidities. Full clinical autopsies are performed when the cause of death is less clear.”

“Can’t they dig up his body and search for traces—”

“An exhumation order would have to be issued, and there’s no chance that Stryker or Rexton PD would have any interest in that.”

63

WHEN HE AROSE THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MADELEINE had already left for the clinic, and his medical theory was being attacked, in the absence of Hardwick, by his own skepticism.

Although the timing of Lerman’s last trip to the Capital District Office Park coincided with the beginning of his reported depression, and the formation of his blackmail scheme coincided with his reported emergence from that depression, certain contradictions were casting a shadow of doubt over everything.

While Lerman had recorded three phone conversations with Slade in his diary—specifying the damaging information he had, how much money he wanted, and when he wanted it—Slade insisted he’d received no such calls.

That disconnect demanded that one take sides. Gurney came down, at least tentatively, on the side of Ziko Slade. But if Slade was telling the truth, then Lerman was lying about the phone calls. But why? And what would a medical diagnosis have to do with any of it?

Whenever you’re confused, just look at what’s in front of you, and take the simplest step forward.

That was the advice of his first NYPD mentor, and it had never failed him. What it brought to mind now was the fear he’d glimpsed the night before on the face of Charlene Vesco. Perhaps he should pay her a visit.

WHEN GURNEY ARRIVED in Garville, gray clouds were enveloping the town in an oppressive gloom. There were no signs of life on Charlene Vesco’s street. The vehicles were gone, including the Range Rover. The whole block, with its leafless trees and drab lawns, had a dead look about it.

He parked in front of Vesco’s house, walked up the damp brick pathway to the front door, and rang the bell. He could hear the drone of what sounded like a television, but no one came to the door. He rang the bell again, waited, knocked, knocked harder.

The fact that the woman wasn’t coming to the door was odd, but not as odd as the silence of the pit bull she’d brought home the previous evening. He walked around to the driveway side of the house. Her car was still there, by the side door. The top half of the door had glass panes. He looked in and saw a short hall leading to a kitchen. The kitchen light was on. He knocked on the door. No response.

He walked to the back of the house, where a series of windows were obscured by lowered blinds. He continued around to the side. The blinds there were raised, revealing a dining room, a small office, and a living room. It was the scene in the living room that got his attention.