As Gurney left the house, the RAM helicopter was still circling noisily, its thumping rotor wash loosening the few dead leaves that were still clinging to the topmost branches of the trees, sending them swirling downward. Before he could reach his car, he was intercepted by the fluffy-coiffed, brightly made-up reporter with a mike in her hand and a video man behind her. “I’m Jill McCoy, Eye on the News, Syracuse!” she cried, her face showing the expression of alarmed curiosity that was a standard feature of her breed. “I’ve been told that you’re Detective Dave Gurney, the man New York magazine called the Supercop. Dave, is it true that the Good Shepherd, the infamous mass murderer, has struck again?”

“Excuse me,” said Gurney, forcing his way by her.

She extended the mike toward him, shouting a string of questions at his back as he opened his car door, got in, closed it, turned on the ignition. “Was she killed because of her TV appearance? Something she said? Is this horrible case too big for our local police? Is that why they brought you in? How are you involved? Is it true you have a problem with the FBI? What’s that problem all about, Detective Gurney?”

As he edged out of his parking spot, the video camera was just inches from his side window. The traffic trooper was doing nothing to alleviate the problem. In fact, he was totally absorbed in a conversation with a new arrival on the scene. Pulling out onto the state road, Gurney caught a glimpse of the man—compact, dark-haired, unsmiling. It was just enough of a glimpse for Gurney to recognize him.

It was Daker.

Chapter 32

The Multiplier

As Gurney rounded the first bend in the road, the body shop came into view. He slowed as he passed it, noting the sign on the concrete-block building: LAKESIDE COLLISION. He was still convinced it was the perfect place to park a car inconspicuously.

Halfway to Walnut Crossing, he passed a billboard for Verizon Cellular, and it reminded him that he’d switched off his phone when he sat down at the kitchen table with Bullard. He switched it back on to check for messages. The screen said there were seven. Before he had a chance to listen to any of them, a new call came in.

Gurney pressed TALK.

The caller was Kyle, and he sounded agitated. “We’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Kim is really freaked out. She’s been trying to get you. She’s already left three messages for you.”

“Is it about Ruth Blum?”

“Mainly that. But also The Orphans of Murder thing last night on TV. She hated how they put it together, what they cut and what they added, especially those two jerks. She’s really upset.”

“Where is she?”

“In the bathroom, crying. Again. Wait, no. I hear the door opening. Hold on.”