“Any chance you were in the vicinity of Cayuga Lake the day before yesterday?”

Clinter stared at him long and hard. “There’s a chance, yes.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

Another appraising stare. “I was there by special invitation.”

“Sorry?”

“His opening move.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Got a text message from the Shepherd—an invitation to meet him on the road, finish what we left unfinished. Foolish of me to take his words at face value. I wondered why he didn’t show, couldn’t figure it out, till I heard the morning news. The Blum murder. He set me up, don’t you see? Had me driving by her house, back and forth, full of hate and hunger. Hunger to get even. He knew I’d show up. Okay, then. One point for him. Next one’s for me.”

“I don’t suppose the source of the message could be traced?”

“To a prepaid anonymous cell phone? Not worth the effort. But tell me something. How’d you know I was out by the lake?”

“Door-to-door interviews the day after the murder. Apparently a couple of people remembered the vehicle. They told the cops, and a cop told me.”

Clinter’s eyes flashed with vindication. “See? A fucking setup! Designed to produce the result it produced.”

“So you decided to get out of your house and hide the Humvee?”

“Until it’s needed.” He paused, licked his lips, wiped his mouth with the back of a black-gloved hand. “Thing of it is, I don’t know how deep the setup goes, and if they were to pull me in for questioning or hold me on suspicion, I’d be in no position to deal with the enemy. You understand my difficulty?”

“I think so.”

“Could you be clearer whose side you stand on?”

“I stand where I am, Max. I’m on no one’s side but my own.”

“Fair enough.” Clinter revved his engine to the redline once again, holding it there for at least five deafening seconds before letting it fall back to idle. He reached into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a business card. It had no name or address on it, however, just a phone number. He handed it to Gurney. “My cell. Always with me. Let me know anything you think I might need to know. Secrets create collisions. Here’s hoping we don’t collide.”

Gurney slipped the card into his pocket. “A question before you go, Max. I have the impression you took a longer look than anyone else at the personal lives of the victims. I’m wondering what stuck in your mind.”

“Stuck in my mind? Like what?”

“When you think of the victims or their families, is there any little oddity that bubbles to the surface—anything that might connect them all together?”