He went into the den to check for messages on the landline and on his cell, which he’d neglected to bring with him on his trip to see Madeleine. There was nothing on the landline. There were three messages on his cell. The first was from Esti, but the transmission was too broken up to understand anything.
The second was from Hardwick, who, through a profusion of obscenities, managed to convey that he was stuck on I-81 in a mammoth traffic jam due to roadwork in progress, “except there isn’t any fucking work actually in progress, just miles of fucking orange cones blocking two of the three fucking lanes”—so he wouldn’t be delivering the camera equipment from SSS to Walnut Crossing until “bloody fucking midnight. Or bloody fucking whenever.”
The logistics delay was an inconvenience for Hardwick but not really a problem, since they hadn’t planned to set out the cameras until the following morning anyway. Gurney listened to the third message, another from Esti, broken up and finally fading away altogether, as though her battery was dying.
He was about to call her back when he heard a sound in the hallway. Kyle appeared at the den doorway in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair wet from the shower.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“I was out for a while. Went to see Madeleine. I was surprised to see your bike outside. I didn’t expect you back here at the house. Did I miss a message?”
“No, sorry about that. My plan was to go straight to the fair. Then, when I was passing through the village, I got the idea to stop for a quick shower and change my clothes. Hope you don’t mind.”
“It was just … unexpected. I’m more focused than usual on anything out of the ordinary.”
“Hey, speaking of that, is your neighbor down the road some kind of hunter or something?”
“Hunter?”
“When I was coming up the road, there was a guy down in the pines by the next house, maybe half a mile down from your barn—with a rifle, I think?”
“When was this?”
“Maybe half an hour ago?” Kyle’s eyes widened as he spoke. “Shit, you don’t think …”
“How big a guy?”
“How big? I don’t know … maybe bigger than average. I mean, he was way back from the road, so I’m not sure. And he was definitely down on your neighbor’s property, not yours.”
“With a rifle?”
“Or maybe a shotgun. I only saw it for a second, as I was riding by.”
“You didn’t notice anything special about the gun? Anything unusual about the barrel?”
“Jesus, Dad, I don’t know. I should have paid more attention. I guess I figured everyone up here in the country is some kind of hunter.” He paused, looking increasingly like he was in pain. “You don’t think it was your neighbor?”
Gurney pointed to the light switch by the doorway. “Turn that off for a second.”
With the light off, Gurney lowered the blinds on both of the den windows. “Okay, you can switch it back on.”
“Jesus. What’s going on?”
“Just another precaution.”
“Against what?”
“Probably nothing tonight. Don’t worry about it.”
“So, who … who was that guy in the woods?”
“Most likely my neighbor, like you said.”
“But this isn’t hunting season, is it?”
“No, but if someone is having coyote problems, or woodchuck problems, or possum problems, or porcupine problems, the season doesn’t matter.”
“A second ago you said there probably would be nothing to worry about tonight. When are you thinking there will be something to worry about?”
Gurney hadn’t intended to do this, but explaining the whole situation seemed now to be the only honest approach. “It’s a complicated story. Have a seat.”
They sat together on the den couch and Gurney spent the next twenty minutes filling Kyle in on the parts of the Spalter case background he wasn’t yet aware of, the current status of things, and the plan being launched the following day.
As he listened, Kyle’s expression grew confused. “Wait a second. What do you mean when you say that RAM-TV is going to run these program announcements starting tomorrow morning?”
“Just that. Starting with the Sunday-morning talk shows, and running through the day.”
“You mean the announcements saying that you’re going to be making big revelations about the case and about the shooter?”
“Right.”
“They’re supposed to run tomorrow?”
“Yes. Why are you—”
“You don’t know? You don’t know that those announcements started running yesterday afternoon? And that they’ve been running all day today?”
“What?”
“The announcements you’re describing—they’ve been on RAM-TV for at least the past twenty-four hours.”
“How do you know this?”
“Kim has her friggin’ TV on all the time. Jeez, I didn’t realize … I’m sorry … I didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to be happening. I should’ve called you.”
“There’s no way you could have known.” Gurney felt sick, absorbing the shock, thinking his way through the implications.
Then he called Hardwick and told him what he’d just learned.
Hardwick, still stuck in his traffic jam, made a sound between gagging and growling. “Yesterday? They started running the fucking thing yesterday?”
“Yesterday, and last night, and all day today.”
“That fucking Bork! That scum-sucking fuck! That rotten piece of shit! I’ll tear that putrid little fucker’s head off and shove it up his ass!”
“Sounds good to me, Jack, but we need to deal with a few practical issues first.”
“I told that little Bork bastard that the timing of the plan was crucial—that people’s lives were at stake—that the timing was a fucking life-or-death issue! I made that perfectly clear to that shit-eating slimebag!”
“Glad to hear it. But right now we need to make some adjustments in the plan.”
“First thing you need to do is adjust yourself the fuck out of there. Go! Like, now!”
“I agree the situation requires urgent action. But before we jump overboard—”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! Or at least do what Esti wanted to do from the start—call in the fucking cavalry!”
“It sounds to me like we’re about to do what we want Panikos to do—panic and make a mistake.”
“Look, I admire all this cool-under-pressure shit, but it’s time to admit that the plan is fucked, toss in the cards, and leave the table.”
“Where are you?”
“What?”
“Where are you, exactly?”
“Where am I? I’m still in Pennsylvania, maybe thirty miles from Hancock. What the hell difference does it make where I am?”
“I don’t know yet. I just want to give this whole thing a little more thought before I go screaming down the hill.”
“Davey, for Christ’s sake, either go down that goddamn hill now, or call in the fucking troops.”
“I appreciate the concern, Jack. I really do. Do me a favor and let Esti know about our new situation. I’ll get back to you in a little while.” Gurney ended the call over a final shouted objection. Thirty seconds later, his phone rang, but he let it go into voice mail.
Kyle was staring at him, wide-eyed. “That was that Hardwick guy on the phone, right?”
“Yes.”
“He was shouting so loud at you, I could hear everything he said.”
Gurney nodded. “He was a little disturbed.”