The Viper

He was sure now that there were aspects of the investigation better kept to himself. That thought reminded him that his Beretta was still being held by BCI, presumably as evidence connected to a crime scene. Retrieving it should eventually be a simple matter, but he had no faith it would be quick. He needed to get a replacement ASAP.

He reentered the county office building, located the county pistol clerk, and went through the process of securing an approval card for the purchase of a new sidearm. At the end of the brief bureaucratic transaction, the clerk smiled and said, “Have a nice Thanksgiving.”

The reminder that the holiday was upon them, plus concerns that had been intensified by Stryker, made it seem like a good idea to get in touch with Kyle immediately and suggest postponing his visit.

As soon as he was back in his car, he called Kyle. Expecting it to go to voicemail, he was surprised to hear a live voice.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

“I’m having some second thoughts about your coming up this week for Thanksgiving.”

“How come?”

“It’s kind of a dangerous time, because of a case I’m involved in.”

“You still have to eat dinner, right?”

“True. But the situation here has become risky. It’s not something I want you to be exposed to.”

“Are you and Maddie leaving town?”

“As far as I know, we’ll be staying put. On high alert, though, eyes wide open.”

“If it’s safe enough for you and Maddie, then it’s safe enough for me.”

“But what about Kim? It wouldn’t be right to put her—”

“Into a risky situation? She’s a crime reporter. She’s in danger all the time.”

Gurney took a different tack. “I thought you guys broke up.”

“We did. Four times, five times. But we keep reconnecting. We’re not living together, no commitments, just seeing each other.”

“Sounds like the definition of insanity—doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

“I’m not claiming it makes sense. It’s a magnetic thing, this incredible energy she has. She’s off-the-charts ambitious, which ends up pushing us apart, but then I get pulled back in. I know she’s pretty selfish, that she wants what she wants and she doesn’t care how she gets it. I know all that. But her energy, it’s like something wild inside her.”

“That’s what keeps pulling you back in?”

“Exactly. Maybe I have a secret fantasy of taming her. Somehow maintaining all that energy but getting rid of the selfish part.”

Gurney was tempted to point out that such a fantasy would lead to endless frustration. But all he offered was a mildly sarcastic “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah . . . well, anyway . . . about Thanksgiving. If I told Kim you didn’t want us to come because there was an element of risk, she’d burst out laughing. And then she’d be pissed. Besides, if I have to wait until there’s no danger in your life to see you, I’ll never see you at all. It’s been too long as it is. Hey, sorry, one of my law professors is calling. She’s almost impossible to get hold of, and I really have to talk to her. Love you, Dad! See you Thursday!”

Gurney said nothing. He realized he’d been outmaneuvered. And Thanksgiving dinner was shaping up to be . . . interesting.

THERE WAS A sporting goods store in a mall less than a mile from the county office building. Gurney stopped to purchase a gun. Less than twenty minutes after he entered the store, he left with his new sidearm—a Glock 19; his preferred Beretta could be ordered, but the clerk couldn’t promise a delivery date—a shoulder holster, and two boxes of 9mm ammo.

Before setting out again for Walnut Crossing, he called Madeleine to see if she wanted anything from the supermarket on his way home. She didn’t. She’d already gone shopping and had gotten, in addition to the basic necessities, all the ingredients for their Thanksgiving dinner.

“By the way,” she added, “I invited Gerry Mirkle to join us.”

He suspected that she’d invited Gerry as a kind of distraction from the presence of Kim, whom she’d never liked.

“Is that a problem?” she asked.

“No problem at all. The more the merrier.”

After ending the call, he sat gazing at the comings and goings in the sporting goods store parking lot, his mind on the potential personality conflicts at the upcoming dinner, on Kyle’s somewhat unsettling portrait of Kim Corazon, on the Gerry Mirkle wild card, and on the unquantifiable possibility of danger—which brought him back to the two Lerman murders.

That in turn reminded him of a conversation he’d been meaning to have. He scrolled through his contact list until he found Rebecca Holdenfield, the high-profile forensic psychologist with whom he’d worked on several murder cases.

Her left a message.

“Becca, this is Dave Gurney, with a request. I’d love to have your opinion of a recent trial—NY State v. Z. Slade. You can see the video in the Murder on Trial section of the RAM website. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find the time to take a look and tell me what you think of the evidence, attorneys, witnesses, and Slade himself.”