Gurney checked his watch. It was 3:53. The sun, hidden behind the heavy overcast, would be sinking now behind Cemetery Ridge.
“Is that the girl you wanted to get to?” asked Madeleine.
“I think so.”
“Now what?”
“I’m going to stay out here to take her call. You might be more comfortable up in the room.”
She made a face. “You really think our room might be bugged?”
“It’s conceivable. But I really believe that any major surveillance would be aimed at the Hammonds, not us.”
“Why?”
“Because the focus of the BCI investigation is on Richard. And Jane is the person trying to protect him. She’s also the one who got Hardwick involved, and now he suspects he’s being listened in on. I’m thinking it’s her phone that’s been hacked, and that’s how the listener might know about his involvement.”
“And your involvement?”
“Only if she discussed the situation on the phone and used my name in the course of the conversation. But all this is guesswork. I need facts.”
After a long silence she took his hand in hers the same way she’d taken it on the forlorn lane in Graysonville. “Are you sure it’s all right? What I told you earlier?”
“Of course it’s all right . . .” Before he could say anything more, his phone rang. As before, the caller ID had been blocked. He assumed it would be Angela. He looked helplessly at Madeleine and started to apologize.
She cut him off. “Answer it.”
He took the call. “This is Dave Gurney.”
“I left you a message.” It was the same small voice.
“Yes, I got it,” he said as gently as he could. The main thing was to not lose her. “I appreciate your willingness to talk to me.”
“What do you want from me?”
“It would help me a lot to know whatever you can tell me about Steven.”
“Stevie.”
“Stevie. Okay. See how little I know? So just about anything you can tell me will be a big help. Did everyone call him Stevie, or just you?”
“His parents called him Steven, which he hated.” There was a childish vibe in her voice that made her sound about half the age he assumed she must be.
He decided to play to the vibe. “Parents can be a problem.”
“No shit. Especially his parents.”
“How about your own parents?”
“I don’t talk to them.”
“I didn’t talk much to mine, either. Tell me, do people call you Angie or Angela?”
“Everybody calls me Angela. Nobody calls me Angie.”
“Okay, Angela, let me ask you something. Is there someplace where we could meet and talk about Stevie, someplace you’d feel safe?”
“Why do we have to meet?” There was a skittery edge in her voice.
“We don’t have to. I just think it might be safer. But it’s up to you.”
“What do you mean, safer?”
“I don’t mean to frighten you, Angela, but you do understand that your situation is dangerous, right?”
She hesitated so long in answering he was afraid he’d lost her. When she did speak, the skittishness had grown to flat-out fear. “I guess so. But why would it be safer to meet?”
“Because our phones might not be secure. If the bad guys have the right equipment, they can hack into just about anything—calls, text messages, emails. You see stuff like that in the news all the time, right?”
“I guess.”
“You know the most private way for two people to have a conversation?”
“In the bathroom?”
“Actually, bathrooms are pretty easy to bug.”
“Then how?”
“A public area with maybe some background noise or other people talking. That makes it hard for snoopers. That’s the kind of situation I think would be the safest for both of us.”
“Like a big store?”
“A big store would be perfect. That’s good thinking.”
“I know a lot of stores. Where are you?”
“I’m up in the Adirondack Mountains.”
“At the place where Stevie met with the hypnotism guy?”
“That’s exactly where I am. I’m trying to find out what happened to Stevie up here so I can figure out what happened to him later, down at your place in Floral Park.”
There was a silence. He waited, leaving the next move in the conversation up to her.
“You don’t think he committed suicide, do you?” she asked.
“No. Do you?”
“He couldn’t have.”
“How do know that?”
“He just wouldn’t have done that—not after the promises he made to me. We were going to get married, get our own house. He wouldn’t kill himself. That’s impossible!”
Gurney had a dozen questions, but he reminded himself that one wrong one could spook her. The goal was to get her committed to a face-to-face meeting—where he’d have more control, plus the opportunity to read the subtleties of facial expressions and body language.
“I understand what you’re saying, Angela. I really do. That’s why we have to find out what really happened. Or you’ll never be safe.”
“Don’t say that. You’re scaring me.”
“Sometimes fear is good. Fear of the right things can help us get past fear of the wrong things.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re afraid of whoever’s behind what happened to Stevie. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re also afraid of me. Because I’m a detective, and you don’t really want to talk to detectives, do you?”
Her silence at that point was answer enough.
“It’s okay, Angela. I can understand that. But ask yourself this question: Which of those people should you be more afraid of? The person responsible for Stevie’s death? Or the person who’s trying to get to the bottom of it to make sure no one else gets hurt?”
“I hate this. Why do I have to make these horrible decisions?”
Gurney said nothing, just waited.
“Okay. I can meet you tomorrow. I know a place.”
“Tell me where it is and what time you want me to be there.”
“You know Lake George Village?”
“Yes.”
“Can you be there at ten o’clock tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. Where in Lake George Village?”
“Tabitha’s Dollhouse. I’ll be up on the second floor by the Barbie Dolls.”
STILL STANDING WITH MADELEINE OUT IN FRONT OF THE LODGE, HE accessed the Internet on his phone and typed in “Tabitha’s Dollhouse.”
It came up immediately—on Woodpecker Road in Lake George Village. The website showed a building designed as an elaborate fantasy cottage. Above the cottage on the web page, arcing like a rainbow across a pure blue sky, were the words, “Home of Fabulous, Lovable, Collectible Dolls.”
Madeleine frowned at the screen. “A doll store? That’s where she wants to discuss her boyfriend’s death?”
“It does seem an odd choice.”
“You didn’t ask her why?”
“I didn’t want to ask anything that might get her off track. She agreed to meet with me, and that’s the main thing.”
“Do you mind if I come with you?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I’d rather not stay here alone.”
“You know it’s at least a two-hour drive each way?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
He shrugged. “I’m going to call Jack from out here, and it may take a while.” He pointed at the lodge. “There’s smoke coming out of the main chimney, meaning there’s a fire in the Hearth Room. Why don’t you go in and warm up?”