The Viper

After considering the possibility of spending the night in the tent, he decided not to. His annoyance at Madeleine had subsided to the point where he wasn’t likely to say anything he’d regret, and another state trooper visitation at that point seemed equally unlikely. He switched off the heater, picked up his laptop, made sure the tent flap was weathertight, and headed down the hill, aided by the faint moonlight coming through the clouds. He took the precaution of taking the long way around the open field, where the overgrowth of weeds would obscure any footprints left in the snow.

When he entered the house, he noted a hint of woodsmoke in the air. He found Madeleine sitting by the fire, book in hand, shotgun propped against the stone corner of the fireplace. She glanced up, then turned her attention back to her book.

He walked over to the hearth and extended his palms toward the fire. The heat made his cold fingers tingle. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said without looking up. “There’s some beef stew left in that pot on the stove.”

He was starting to head for it when she added, “Gerry Mirkle called a little while ago. She said to tell you that Controversial Perspectives is doing a segment tonight on the shooting in Garville.”

He grimaced. “How does she know?”

Madeleine lowered her book to her lap. “I explained this to you before. She has an app that notifies her whenever a news report mentions certain names. The Controversial Perspectives promotion mentioned yours.”

He’d been wondering how long it would take the ferrets at RAM to connect his name to Hardwick’s and start spewing out a new set of sensational speculations. Apparently, not very long at all.

The news killed his appetite. Instead of the beef stew, he made himself a cup of coffee. Controversial Perspectives would be on at eight. Until then, he’d search for a unifying thread through everything that had happened. He took his laptop and coffee into the den.

The problem with the unifying-thread approach was that it didn’t seem that any single narrative could account for all the reported facts, since some of those facts directly contradicted others. The most perplexing conflict concerned the three phone conversations Lerman claimed to have had with Slade—calls whose existence the phone company verified—but which Slade denied having received. What possible unifying thread could reconcile Lerman’s detailed recounting of the conversations and Slade’s insistence that they never occurred?

Gurney realized how much he missed Hardwick’s combative skepticism. Although the man could be crude and pugnacious in his opinions, they never failed to contain an element of truth. He had a way of poking at theories that exposed their weaknesses, but rarely, if ever, had the man totally rejected any hypothesis that later turned out to be valid.

In Hardwick’s absence, Gurney had the unmoored feeling that he’d been separated from half his ability to get at the truth. But his sense of isolation didn’t stop there. As the gap between him and Madeleine grew wider, the more he missed the role she’d played in shaping his understanding of . . . everything.

These ruminations absorbed him so thoroughly that he missed the opening of Controversial Perspectives. He connected to the livestream at 8:04 p.m., with Tarla Hackett in mid-sentence.

“. . . covering the increasingly contentious and violent aftermath of the murder conviction of Ziko Slade, former drug dealer to the stars.”

Jordan Lake nodded. “And the increasingly suspicious involvement of former NYPD homicide detective, Dave Gurney.”

“That’s right, Jordan. Gurney’s involvement has been getting deeper and darker by the day. We’ve been witnessing a series of bombshells in the case, beginning with the recent suicide of Ziko Slade.”

“And followed, just yesterday,” added Lake, “by the fatal shooting of two Garville residents by former New York State Police detective Jack Hardwick. The same Jack Hardwick known to be a close associate of Dave Gurney!”

Tarla Hackett leaned forward, projecting a look of angry amazement. “And that’s on top of Gurney’s direct involvement in the fatal shooting on Blackmore Mountain.”

“Exactly,” said Lake. “Gurney’s connection to one mysterious homicide after another raises serious questions.”

Hackett brightened up her expression. “We’re hoping to get answers to some of those questions right now—from District Attorney Cam Stryker.”

The video switched to a split screen, Tarla Hackett on the left, Stryker on the right. Stryker’s black blazer and plain white blouse went well with a smile that didn’t come within a mile of warmth.

“We appreciate your taking the time to speak with us this evening,” said Hackett.

“Glad to do it.”

“Okay, let’s get right to it.”

Gurney heard Madeleine entering the room. She said nothing, just half sat on the arm of the den couch, giving her an angled view of the laptop screen.