“As soon as you get this message, I want you to find out from Kim how many people are aware of the bedtime story. Not people who just know about it in a general way but who know the details, especially the line ‘Let the devil sleep.’ If there are more than two or three, ask her to make a list of the names, any addresses she might have, and the nature of her relationships with them. Thanks. Be careful. Talk to you soon.”

As soon as he ended the call, a whole new issue came to mind. He reentered the number and left a second message: “Sorry for the multiple requests, but something else just occurred to me. After you check for that mini–playback thing in the basement, do a quick look-around for listening devices—electronic bugs. Check the most likely places—smoke alarms, surge protectors, night-lights. What you’re looking for is anything in the innards of those items that seems like it might not belong there. If you find something, don’t remove it. Leave it where it is. That’s it for now. Call me as soon as you can.”

The idea that Kim’s apartment might be bugged—might have been bugged for God knows how long—raised a whole chain of perplexing questions with potentially disturbing answers. He got his copy of Kim’s project folder out of the desk drawer and settled down on the den couch to go through it one more time.

Halfway through it, his energy spike began to decline as rapidly as it had risen. He told himself he’d close his eyes for five minutes. Ten at the most. He leaned back into the soft couch pillows. It had been a uniquely stressful and draining couple of days, with hardly any sleep at all.

A short nap …

He awoke with a start. Something was ringing, but for a moment he didn’t know what. As he started to get up, he discovered a stabbing pain in his neck, stiff from the sideways position of his head.

The ringing stopped, and he heard Madeleine’s voice.

“He’s asleep.” And then, “When I got home half an hour ago, he was totally unconscious.” And then, “Let me go in and see.”

She came into the den. Gurney was sitting up now, his feet on the floor, rubbing the blurriness out of his eyes.

“You’re awake?”

“Sort of.”

“Can you talk to Kyle?”

“Where is he?”

“At Kim’s apartment. He says he’s been trying to get you on your cell.”

“What time is it?”

“Close to seven.”

“Seven? Jesus!”

“He seems very eager to tell you something.”

Gurney opened his eyes wider, stood up from the couch.

She pointed to the landline phone on the desk. “You can take the call there. I’ll hang up the extension in the kitchen.”

Gurney picked up the handset. “I’m here.”