“What kind of sounds?”

“Maybe small branches breaking? I couldn’t say for sure.”

“Was anyone else out of the house during the two hours preceding the fire?”

“My son came down to the bench for a while. And Ms. Corazon also stepped out for a while, I’m not sure for how long.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask?”

“No.”

“How about your son? Do you know if he went anywhere other than back and forth between the house and the bench?”

“Just to the bench and back to the house.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He had a lit flashlight in his hand.”

“How about your wife?”

“What about her?”

“Did she leave the house at all?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Not absolutely sure.”

Kramden nodded slowly, as though these facts were forming some kind of coherent pattern. He ran his fingernail over the tiny black imperfection in the tabletop.

“Did you set the fire?” he asked, still staring at the spot.

Gurney knew that this was one of several standard arson-investigation questions that had to be asked.

“No.”

“Did you cause it to be set by someone else?”

“No.”

“Do you know who did set it?”

“No.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a reason to set it?”

“No.”

“Do you have any other information at all that might help in the investigation?”

“Not right now.”

Kramden stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that right now I don’t have any other information that could help in the investigation.”

There was the tiniest flash of anger in the man’s suspicious eyes. “Meaning you plan to have some relevant information in the future?”

“Oh, yes, Everett, I will definitely have some relevant information in the future. You can count on it.”

Chapter 24

Raising the Stakes

Kramden devoted only about twenty minutes each to his interviews with Madeleine and Kyle but then spent over an hour with Kim.

At that point it was nearly noon. Madeleine offered the man lunch, but he declined with a look that was more sour than gracious. Without explanation he left the house, walked down the pasture slope, and got into his van, which was parked halfway between the pond and the wreckage of the barn.

The morning fog had dissipated, and the day had brightened somewhat under a high overcast. Gurney and Kim were sitting at the table, while Madeleine was washing mushrooms for omelets. Kyle was looking out the kitchen window. “What the hell’s he up to now?”

“Probably checking on the progress of his gas-liquid chromatograph,” said Gurney.

“Or eating his own private sandwich,” said Madeleine with a touch of resentment.

“Once you get a GLC set up,” Gurney continued, “it takes about an hour for it to run an analysis.”

“How much can it tell him?”