The Viper

“November 2. Took A and S to the Lakeshore. Said hello to Pauly Bats at the bar. Big Pauly! Nobody fucks with Pauly Bats!! Explained the plan to A and S. Adie worries like always. What if? What if? What if? Like her mother. Sonny doesn’t talk. But Sonny likes money. Now we’ll have money. Serious money!

“November 5. Got Z’s number and made the call. The asshole picked up. I asked him how much it was worth for me to forget everything I knew about Sally Bones. I told him to think about it. I made the scumbag worry.

“November 6. Talked to Tommy Hooks. Quit the fucking job. Breaking my hump for chump change. Goodbye to that shit!

“November 13. Called Z again. Told him I figured an even Mil was the right number—to save his evil fucking ass. In used twenties. Whining son of a bitch said that was like two suitcases. I told him so what, you worthless prick. What the fuck do I care about suitcases? You got ten days I told him.

“November 23. Called Z, told him his time was up, he better have the fucking Mil. He said he did. I told him to have it ready tonight, make sure he’s alone. I walk with the Mil, or the whole fucking world hears about Sally Bones.”

Derlick closed the diary. “That was the last entry.”

“Thank you, Detective. By the way, were you able to verify the existence of the three phone calls Lenny described?”

“Yes. Phone company records show three calls from Lerman’s number to Slade’s number, corresponding to the entries in the diary.”

Gurney paused the video.

He sat back in his chair. The likely effect of Lerman’s diary on the jury was unclear. On the one hand, the entries supported earlier witness testimony regarding Lerman’s extortion plan, which the prosecution alleged was Slade’s obvious motive for killing him. In that respect, the entries were a plus for Stryker’s narrative. On the other hand, their tone might have eroded whatever sympathy Adrienne’s tears had generated for Lerman as a victim. However, the murder scene photos were yet to come, and they might have the power to regenerate that lost sympathy.

Gurney was reminded of the first time, early in his NYPD career, when he encountered the phenomenon of a serial killer recording his plans for attacking his victims—in a notebook not unlike Lerman’s. A consulting psychologist on the case explained that putting such a plan in writing could serve several purposes. One was the desire to externalize an idea before executing it. Putting the plan on paper made it more real, more exciting. Another was the opportunity to place pejorative labels on the target individual—a way of blaming the victim for the intended crime.

Gurney went for another cup of coffee. While waiting for it to brew, he watched the amber ferns in the asparagus bed sway in an erratic breeze. His gaze wandered to the coop, and he remembered his promise to check the food and water. And bring the chickens some blueberries. He’d tend to all that as soon as he finished watching Scott Derlick’s testimony.

He took his coffee back into the den and resumed the video.

Cam Stryker stood next to the witness box, addressing Derlick.

“Let’s move on to the day of Lenny Lerman’s last call to Slade—the day of his final journey from Calliope Springs to Slade’s lodge in the mountains north of Rexton. What can you tell us about that trip?”

“We retrieved the GPS data that was transmitted continuously from Lerman’s phone and transferred that data to an area map.”

Stryker placed a large, stiff map on an easel.

In the typical meandering path of trips through hilly country, a bright red line followed a succession of secondary roads from the village of Calliope Springs in the lower left corner of the map to a point above Rexton in the upper right corner. There were four black stars along the route, with a time noted next to each star.