It sounded like the biggest possible question a young man could ask his father. Thinking of it that way made Gurney smile. “Keep an eye on things.” He paused. “How’s your work going? And your school stuff?”

“E-mail is magic.”

“Good. I feel bad about this. I’ve dragged you into something … created a problem in your life where there shouldn’t have been any … created a danger. That’s not something … a parent …” His voice trailed off. He looked out through the glass doors, looked to see if the crows were still perched on the hemlocks.

“You didn’t create the danger, Dad. You’re the one who’s taking care of it.”

“Right. Well … I’d better get ready. I don’t want to find myself hung up with this arson nonsense when I need to be somewhere else.”

“You want me to do anything?”

“Like I said, just keep an eye on things. And you … you know where the …” Gurney gestured toward the bedroom.

“Where the shotgun is. Yep. No problem.”

“By tomorrow morning, with a little luck, everything should be okay.” On that note, which had an emptier ring than he would have liked, Gurney left the room.

There really wasn’t much for him to do before setting out. He checked to make sure his phone was adequately charged. He checked the action of his Beretta and the security of his ankle holster. He went to his desk and got out the folder of information Kim had given him during their first meeting, and he added to it the printouts of the reports Hardwick had e-mailed him. He had quite a few hours left before any kind of confrontation would occur, and he planned to review once again all the facts in his possession.

When he came back out to the kitchen, Kyle was standing by the table, plainly too anxious to sit.

“Okay, son, I’d better be going.”

“Right, then. See you later.” Kyle raised his hand in a determinedly casual gesture—something between a wave and a salute.

“Right. See you later.”

Gurney went out quickly to his car, grabbing his jacket from the mudroom on his way. He was hardly aware of driving down the pasture lane, until he reached the place by the pond where the grassy surface merged into the gravel of the town road. At that moment he caught sight of Madeleine.

She was standing by a tall birch on the uphill verge of the pond, her eyes closed, her face raised to the sun. He stopped the car, got out, and walked toward her. He wanted to say good-bye, say that he’d be home before morning.

She opened her eyes slowly and smiled at him. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“What?”

“The air.”

“Oh. Yes, very nice. I was just on my way, and I thought—”

Her smile caught him off balance. It was so … so intensely full of … what? Not sadness, exactly. Something else.