The Viper

Hackett was saying, “Ziko Slade, convicted murderer of Lenny Lerman, hanged himself in his prison cell. Were you shocked? Surprised? None of the above?”

“Certainly not shocked.”

“You saw it coming?”

“Sometimes the pain of guilt drives a person to extreme measures.”

“Do you see his suicide as a confirmation of the jury’s verdict?”

“Absolutely.”

“You personally have no doubt about Slade’s guilt?”

“None.”

“As you know, Dave Gurney has the opposite opinion.”

Stryker’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Gurney has a lot of opinions. More importantly, he has a lot to account for. He’s a person of interest in a number of recent homicides.”

Hackett nodded. “Jordan and I were just discussing Gurney’s links to people who’ve ended up dead. Any comment on that?”

“Those links are growing. We have reason to believe that he was present last night and again this morning in the vicinity of the particularly vicious murder of Charlene Vesco, a cousin of Dominick Vesco who died yesterday as the result of gunshot wounds inflicted by Gurney’s associate, Jack Hardwick.”

“Do you have reason to believe that Gurney is now on the run?”

“Yes. Once a decorated detective, now a wanted man.”

Hackett flashed a smile of satisfaction. “A final question. If any of our viewers know of Gurney’s whereabouts, what should they do?”

Stryker gazed directly into the camera. “Anyone with information regarding the location of David Gurney should call my office at this number as soon as possible.”

The split screen was replaced by a close-up photo of Gurney’s face and the words, IF YOU KNOW THE WHEREABOUTS OF THIS MAN, CALL THIS NUMBER. After several seconds, this was replaced by live video of Hackett and Lake at their desks.

“Great interview, Tarla.”

“Thanks, Jordan. Any closing observations?”

“No observations. Just unanswered questions.” He turned to the camera. “What is Dave Gurney? Is he a hero . . . a fool . . . or a murderer? Now, this important message from our sponsor.”

Gurney shut down the computer.

“What was Stryker talking about?” asked Madeleine.

“What do you mean?”

“You being in the vicinity of a particularly vicious murder.”

“Charlene Vesco.”

“I heard her name. That’s not what I’m asking.”

He forced himself to meet her gaze. “She’s the woman who owns . . . owned . . . the tow truck that hit me. She’s related to Dominick Vesco, who was on Blackmore Mountain that day and who was almost certainly involved in the murder of Sonny Lerman. I saw her at the hospital last night. I followed her to find out where she lived. This morning I went back to talk to her. When she didn’t come to the door, I looked in the window and saw her body. I called 911 and reported it.”

“You’re leaving something out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stryker called it a particularly vicious murder. Meaning what?”

“There was a lot of blood. Some sort of blood thinner may have been involved.”

Madeleine’s expression hardened. “And now you’re a person of interest in a number of homicides. I believe those were the words she used.”

He said nothing.

“But you won’t give it up!”

“How the hell can I give it up? I’m being bashed from all sides.”

“If you walked away, the bashing would stop.”

“It would be an acknowledgment of defeat. And I have not been defeated! Not by the police, not by Stryker, not by the scum at RAM, not by a dead rabbit, not by a snake in a goddamn gift basket, and not by some piece of shit who attacked me on Blackmore Mountain!”

She gave him that look that went right through him. “It’s all about winning? Proving you’re right, and everyone else is wrong? That’s what matters?”

“My integrity matters.”

“Really? Nothing else?”

“Without integrity, there is nothing else.”

“You mean, integrity as you define it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Your integrity as a detective. Period.”

“That’s what I am. It’s what I am, and it’s what you never wanted me to be.”

She opened her mouth as if to reply, then closed it, the set of her jaw tightening.

He let his anger carry him on. “Our marriage was always based on your expectation that I’d suddenly become something else. I wish I’d known about that business with Emma ten years ago. You were ready to leave me because of who I was, because I took my job seriously, and somehow she talked you into staying. Staying, but always with a reservation. Waiting for the magic transformation. Waiting for me to become God-knows-what, anything but a detective. Well, I am who I am, and if that’s not what you want, then there’s no damn reason for me to be here, is there?”

Madeleine regarded him with a deadly calm. “It’s your life. It’s your decision.”

GURNEY STAYED IN the den through a mostly sleepless night. The moon had disappeared behind the scudding clouds of a fast-moving cold front. The wind was rising, and he could hear it moaning in the chimney at the other end of the house.