Hardwick exploded in a hacking cough. Or it might have been a laugh. “Man, you don’t know how fucking true that is, which is why I was about to call you. The arson unit has decided to bring you in for questioning. As a suspect.”

“When?”

“Most likely tomorrow morning. Conceivably as early as this afternoon. Thought I’d mention it, in case you’d prefer not to be home.”

“Okay, Jack. Thank you. I’ll sign off now. Got a few things I need to do.”

“Watch your ass, kemosabe. Posse’s gettin’ ugly.”

When Gurney ended the call, he was standing in the middle of the long room. Madeleine and Kyle were sitting at the table. Kyle was gazing at him in frank amazement. “That’s incredible—that thing with the gloves on the keyboard? Wow. How’d you figure that out?”

“I’m only guessing. I may not have figured anything out. But another problem’s heating up. The arson-unit idiots are being pressured by the fed idiots to question me about the barn.”

Kyle looked incensed. “Isn’t that what that jerk Kramden did when he was here?”

“Kramden took my statement as a witness. Now they want to question me as a suspect.”

Madeleine appeared nonplussed.

“A suspect?” cried Kyle. “Are they completely out of their fucking minds?”

“That’s not all,” said Gurney. “One or more law-enforcement agencies may want to question me about Robby Meese’s death, since I was in Kim’s apartment last evening. So I think it would be best if I weren’t here. Homicide interviews can go on for a long time, and I have an appointment tonight I wouldn’t want to miss.”

Kyle looked angry, stressed, helpless. He walked to the far end of the room and stared into the cold woodstove, shaking his head.

Madeleine’s gaze was fixed on Gurney. “Where will you go?”

“Clinter’s cabin.”

“And tonight …?”

“I’ll wait, watch, listen. See who shows up. Play it by ear.”

“The calm way you talk about it is really frightening.”

“Why?”

“The way you understate everything—when everything is at stake.”

“I don’t like drama.”

There was a silence between them, broken by the sound of cawing in the distance. In the lower pasture, three flapping crows rose from the stubbled grass, climbing in a loose arc to the tops of the hemlocks on the far side of the pond.

Madeleine was taking long, slow breaths. “What if the Good Shepherd walks in with a gun and shoots you?”

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen.”

“Don’t worry? Don’t worry? Did you really say that?”

“What I meant was, there may not be as much to worry about as you think.”

“How do you know that?”