I wasn’t, actually, but I didn’t see the point in getting on the wrong side of this man from the get-go.

“Well,” he said, his voice sounding slightly softer than a moment earlier, “you sure got that right. I’m comin’ out there shortly, but in the meantime, I need you to bring me up to speed.”

I told him the same story I’d told Higgins. “You’re going to be hearing, any moment, I think, from Detective Barry Duckworth of the Promise Falls Police.”

“Where the hell is that?” Bertram asked.

“New York state. North of Albany. He’s going to ask you something on my behalf.”

“What might that be?”

“Nothing to the press for about twelve hours. Except that there was a fire.”

“Not likely to be any questions for that long anyway,” Bertram said. “This isn’t exactly Manhattan. We don’t have CNN watching our every move. But let me ask you why.”

“I’d like whoever sent this Kiln guy to kill us to think the job got done.”

There was a long pause at Bertram’s end. Then, “I’ll talk to your Duckworth guy. See if you’re on the level. My phone’s beeping now.”

“Take the call,” I said, and handed the phone back to Higgins.

Kiln was being loaded into the ambulance. The officer Higgins had spoken to climbed in with him. I ran over before they closed the doors.

“Where you taking him?” I asked.

“Hyannis,” said the paramedic.

I fixed my gaze on the officer. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

She looked at me skeptically. “And who are you?”

“Just don’t,” I said, and closed the doors.

The ambulance rolled down the drive, red light flashing but siren off, and sped off once it had reached the road. I’d strolled down the driveway after it and watched it disappear into the distance.

Here, a hundred feet or so away from the charred beach house, things were slightly calmer, and quieter. I got out Kiln’s phone, brought up the number he’d most recently been in touch with, and dialed it.

It rang five times.

“Yeah.” A man’s voice.

Definitely not Madeline.

It was low, almost a whisper, as though someone else was in the room he did not want to wake. One word certainly wasn’t enough for me to recognize the voice, and there was no reason to believe this was someone I’d ever spoken to before, anyway.

I didn’t have the skills to do an impersonation of Gregor Kiln, but maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. I was going to be whispering, too.

“It’s done,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Both of them.”

“Fine. Next week.”

Next week what? Payment? I didn’t want to ask.

“Need a meet sooner,” I said.

“Next week.”

“No,” I pressed. “There was a complication.”

A pause. “What kind of complication.”