The Viper

His route home would take him past the Oneonta mall’s Epic Innovations, a vast cavern of a store that carried cutting-edge electronics gear. Surely they’d have a well-stocked home-security department.

48

THANKSGIVING DAY BROUGHT A STUNNING WEATHER REVERSAL. A major warm front moved into upstate New York during the night, bringing Indian summer to Walnut Crossing.

Gurney had spent the previous evening and most of that morning installing the system he purchased at Epic Innovations. The fast-talking techie salesman had made the process seem a lot simpler than it turned out to be, with the bizarrely translated manual providing more confusion than assistance.

After charging the batteries in the six cameras, whose mounting plates he positioned on the corners of the barn and on the side of the house that faced the woods, the final step was downloading the operational app to his phone and making sure that the promised capabilities of the system were actually functioning.

At two o’clock that afternoon the system got, and passed, its first real test. Gurney was gazing out through the French doors at the old apple tree, where a few red McIntoshes were still clinging to the branches above the height where the deer could reach them, when he received a beeping security notice on his phone that a vehicle was passing one of the cameras mounted on the barn. Moments later, as he watched, a Subaru Outback began making its way up through the low pasture toward the house. The vehicle looked like his own, or at least like his own had looked before its smash-up on Blackmore Mountain.

When it came to a stop next to his rental car and the handsome young couple emerged, he experienced the slight shock that results from the changed appearances of people you haven’t seen for a while. He hadn’t seen Kyle for over a year, Kim for more than two.

He opened the French doors and headed across the patio to greet them.

“Welcome!” he said as they strode toward him, Kyle leading the way.

“Hey, Dad! Wow! Great to see you! You look great!”

“So do you, son, so do you!”

Kyle’s face was fuller than Gurney remembered, his hair shorter and neater, his grin broader. The differences in Kim were deeper. There was something harder in her eyes, less open in her expression.

Gurney gave Kyle a hug, then, a bit awkwardly, repeated the gesture with Kim.

“The place looks great,” said Kyle, his happy gaze traveling around the fields and back to the area around the house. “That shed on the side of the coop—that’s new since I was last here, right? And the patio looks different. It used to be . . . a little rounder?”

“You have a good memory.”

Kyle eyed the rental car. “No more Outback?” There was disappointment in his voice.

“I’ll be getting a new one, as soon as we get a check from the insurance company.”

“The old one got totaled in that Blackmore Mountain thing?”

“That’s my assumption. I’m waiting for a call from the adjuster. Then I’ll be able to replace it.”

“That must have been quite a crash,” said Kim. “The coverage on RAM was, like, crazy.”

Although it sounded like a simple statement, Gurney heard in it a reporter’s hunger for more information. Not inclined to offer any, he simply nodded in agreement.

Kyle broke the brief silence, pointing at the shed. “You built that yourself?”

“A joint project with Maddie.”

“I love the iron hardware on the door.” He added in an aside to Kim, “My dad can do anything. He just figures out whatever it is and does it.”

She turned to Gurney. “What’s it for?”

“Well, it seems that one of these days we may be getting—”

“Alpacas!” The enthusiastic contribution came from Madeleine, who’d just emerged from the side door. “A pair. Twins. The cutest things.”

Kim frowned. “You want them for the wool?”

“The wool is nice, but it’s not the main thing. They’re just wonderful little creatures.”

“Aren’t they a lot of work?”

“Depends on what you mean by work.”

As Kim glanced meaningfully at the hay bales stacked against the shed wall, the sound of a vehicle coming up through the low pasture ended the exchange.

It was a buttercup-yellow VW Beetle.

After jouncing up the rutted lane at a speed too enthusiastic for the terrain, it came to a stop behind Kyle’s Outback. Gerry Mirkle emerged from the driver’s seat with a bright smile and a pot of multicolored mums.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” she cried, approaching the group, surprisingly light on her feet for a plump woman. “What a glorious day, spring in November!”

She handed the mums to Madeleine, who thanked her effusively and, after introducing her to Kim and Kyle, carried the pot to the sunniest corner of the patio.

“So,” said Gerry, addressing Gurney with sudden seriousness, “you look better than I expected, considering what you’ve been through. How do you feel?”

“There’s just enough discomfort to remind me that I’ve had a concussion, but it’s nothing that keeps me from doing what I need to do.”

She flashed a quick grin. “Is that a roasting turkey I smell? Possibly with a sage-and-thyme bread stuffing?”