As if in answer to his concerns, Willy reached back and placed his hand against Lester’s chest. Without a word, he pointed at his feet, unknowingly and ironically putting Lester at ease. Strung between two tree trunks, all but invisible except to an eye like Willy’s, was a thin electrical wire.

Lester bent close to Willy’s ear. “Grenade or something else?”

Not looking back, Willy whispered, “Who cares? We step over it.”

Which was why, Lester thought, you let this man take point.

At last in the cabin’s dooryard, Willy surprised his partner again. As Les moved toward one of the windows to look in, Willy produced his phone and dexterously took a series of flash-less pictures of the vehicles, their plates, and the building before sidling up beside Lester to photograph what was happening inside.

There were four men sitting around a table in the middle of a central room. Beer cans, handguns, and packages of opioids littered the space among them. There was laughter and easy banter going on. One of the four, facing the window, was Seamus Kyle.

Willy pocketed his phone and quietly stepped back.

Lester gave him a raised eyebrow, to which Willy responded with a thumbs-up.

No explanation was needed. As Lester well understood, they’d gained a hold over Seamus, not to mention the beginnings of identifying his companions. It wouldn’t bear legal scrutiny. They were trespassing here, taking pictures on private property.

But Seamus wouldn’t necessarily know that, and if Joe’s instincts were right, a little dope peddling on the side was going to be the least of Seamus’s concerns.

The two cops retreated, taking care to step over the mysterious wire on their way out.

Sammie pulled into the shopping mall parking lot, found a space close to her destination, and cut the engine before consulting her list against the business name across from her. This was the fifth party store she’d visited over two days, and she was beginning to lose heart. If their theory was right about Seamus Kyle having purchased nitrous oxide or helium to kill Lucy Shaw, Sam was having a tough time proving it. Both gases were easily available, including through the internet, making potential outlets almost too numerous to count.

She crossed to the store’s entrance, a file folder in hand. She’d not only been checking retail outlets, but hospitals, ambulance services, and medical supply houses, among others, all in the hope that Seamus had followed a course of least resistance and done his shopping locally.

“Hi there,” was the greeting as she exchanged the cold sunshine outside for the warm interior.

“Hi yourself,” she addressed the bald man behind the counter. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”

He gave her an affable nod. “I’ll try. What d’you need?”

She displayed her credentials, which immediately cooled him down.

“Uh-oh. What’s going on?”

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” she replied easily. “Just crossing t’s and dotting i’s, as they say.” She opened the file and spread out five photographs of young men, including the one of Seamus taken at the Shaws’ front door. A so-called photo array of this type was usually restricted to connecting a suspect to a proven crime. But despite her not having anything that solid, Sam liked to be thorough and avoid possible accusations later of coaching witnesses by feeding them one picture only.