They were finishing an early dinner of salmon, peas, and rice, with a sweet-pepper sauce. They’d been discussing the meeting that Madeleine would be attending that evening at the clinic for further exploration of the recent suicide and the procedures in place for identifying danger signals in the clients. She was noticeably edgy and preoccupied.

“With that horrible phone message and everything else going on today, I forgot to tell you that the insurance adjuster was here.”

“He was here to examine the barn?”

“And ask questions.”

“Like Kramden?”

“He covered the same ground. List of contents, who did what when, details of any other insurance policies we have, et cetera.”

“I assume you gave him copies of the same stuff we gave Kramden?”

“Her.”

“Sorry?”

“It was a woman. She wanted sales receipts for the bicycle and the kayaks.” In Madeleine’s voice there was sadness and anger. “You have any idea where they are?”

He shook his head.

She paused. “I asked her how soon we could demolish it.”

“The part of the barn that’s still standing?”

“She said the company would let us know.”

“No hint of when?”

“No. They need written permission from the arson squad before they can okay anything.” Her hands had closed into fists. “I can’t stand looking at it.”

He gave her a long look. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m mad at the evil bastard who destroyed our barn. I’m mad at the creep who left that disgusting message on our phone.”

Her anger created a silence between them, which lasted until she left for the clinic. In the interim he thought of things he might say, then reasons not to say them.

After watching her car head down the pasture path, Gurney carried their used dishes to the sink, squirted a bit of detergent on them, and turned on the hot water.

The cell phone in his pocket rang.

ID said G. B. BULLARD.

“Mr. Gurney?”

“I’m here.”

“I wanted to fill you in on something, since it concerns a point you raised earlier today.”

“Yes?”

“The matter of the tire tracks …?”

“Yes?”

“I wanted you to know that we did find a set of tread marks, where you suggested they might be, at the auto-body shop.”

“Indicating a car was parked in a space that the shop owner says was unoccupied?”

“Essentially that’s correct—although he isn’t absolutely sure about it.”

“And the dirt strip at the end of Ruth Blum’s driveway?”

“Inconclusive.”

“Meaning not enough soil surface to be certain one way or the other, but no positive evidence of any vehicle entering or leaving?”

“Correct.”

Gurney was getting curious about the purpose of her call. It was not common practice for an investigating officer to give a progress report outside the immediate chain of command, much less to someone outside the department.