“I want the Shepherd to see me as the primary threat to him, not Kim. I want him to believe that she wants the series to be canceled and that I might get in the way of that decision.”

“That’s it? That’s the plan?”

“No, there’s more. What I’m thinking is that in the middle of this discussion we’re having about The Orphans of Murder, I get a phone call. A phone call supposedly from Max Clinter. And anyone listening to my side of the call—which is all that the bugs would be capable of picking up—will be given the impression that Max has discovered some information pointing to the identity of the Good Shepherd. Maybe some information that fits in with a few things I’ve discovered myself. The takeaway will be that Max and I are pretty sure who the Shepherd is and we’re getting together at his cabin tomorrow night to compare notes and work out our next steps.”

Kyle was quiet for a long minute. “So … the idea is that he’ll … what? Come to Clinter’s cabin to … to try to kill you?”

“If I handle it right, he’ll see it as a low-risk way of eliminating a major threat.”

“And you guys …” He looked back and forth between Gurney and Kim. “You guys are going to … just make all this up as you go along?”

“At this point it’s the only way.” Gurney looked up at the clock on the wall. “We have to get going.”

Kim looked terrified. “I need my bag.”

When Gurney heard her footsteps going up the stairs, he turned to Kyle. “I want to show you something.” He led Kyle into the master bedroom and pulled out the bottom drawer of his bureau. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home tonight. In the event that anything unexpected happens—or any unwanted visitor arrives—I want you to know this is here.”

Kyle looked down into the open drawer. It contained a short-barrel twelve-gauge shotgun and a box of shells.

Chapter 43

Talking to the Shepherd

Gurney and Kim drove to Syracuse in separate cars. With so much yet to be determined, maximum flexibility seemed wise. Standing in front of the shabby little house that Kim’s apartment formed half of, Gurney went over the plan with her again. As he did so, its ad-hoc flimsiness seemed increasingly evident. In fact, it was hardly a “plan” at all—more like some ill-conceived theatrical improvisation. But he couldn’t let his growing doubts show, couldn’t let them infect Kim. Any more anxiety would paralyze her. And for better or worse, this hollow little scheme of his was all they had.