“We’ll share whatever we can.”

It was an answer so devoid of meaning that Gurney nearly laughed out loud. It was an answer he’d given countless times himself over the years.

“I’m delighted to hear that,” said Madeleine with a blatant lack of delight. Then she followed Kim and Kyle down the hall to the den.

Gurney stepped over to the breakfast table, sat in one of the chairs, and motioned Kramden toward one across from it.

The man laid the recorder on the table, pushed a button, sat down, and began to speak in a flat, bureaucratic voice. “Investigator Everett Kramden, Albany Regional Headquarters, BCI … Recorded interview initiated ten-seventeen A.M., March twenty-fourth, 2010 … Interview subject is David Gurney … Interview location is the subject’s house in Walnut Crossing. Interview purpose is to gather information regarding a suspicious fire in a secondary structure on the Gurney property, designated as a barn, approximately two hundred yards southeast of the main house. Transcript and affidavits to follow.”

He regarded Gurney with a gaze as colorless as his tone. “At what time did you first become aware of the fire?”

“I didn’t look at the clock. I’d guess it was between eight-twenty and eight-forty.”

“Who was the first to notice it?”

“Ms. Corazon.”

“What drew her attention to it?”

“I don’t know. She looked out through these glass doors for some reason and saw the flames.”

“Do you know why she looked out to begin with?”

“No.”

“What did she do when she saw the flames?”

“Shouted something.”

“What did she shout?”

“I think ‘My God, what’s that?’ or something similar.”

“What did you do?”

“I came over from the dining table where I’d been sitting, saw the fire, rushed to the phone, called 911.”

“Did you make any other calls?”

“No.”

“Did anyone else in the house make any calls?”

“Not that I observed.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Put on my shoes, ran down to the barn.”

“In the dark?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“With my son. He was right behind me.”

“The one named Kyle, who was just here?”

“Yes, my … only son.”

“What was the color of the fire?”

“Predominantly orange. Fast-burning, very hot, loud.”

“Burning mainly in one place or more than one?”

“Burning almost everywhere.”

“Did you notice if the barn windows were open or shut?”

“Open.”

“All of them?”

“I believe so.”

“Is that the way you’d left them?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Any unusual odors?”

“A petroleum distillate. Almost certainly gasoline.”

“You have personal experience with accelerants?”

“Prior to my NYPD Homicide assignment, I cross-trained briefly with a fire-department arson unit.”

Nearly invisible tremors in Kramden’s bleak expression seemed to register a rapid succession of unspoken thoughts.

“I assume,” Gurney went on, “that you and your sniffer dog found accelerant evidence along the inside base of the walls—as well as in your soil sample?”

“We made a thorough examination of the site.”