“It sounded to me like the impacts were at different places on the upstairs wall. Do your power and phone lines come in together or separately?”

Hardwick didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

Gurney heard him crawling from the table into the kitchen … then the sound of a handset being picked up, and after a moment being replaced … then crawling back to the table.

“It’s dead. He hit the fucking phone line.”

“I don’t get it,” said Esti. “What’s the point of cutting a landline when everybody’s got cell phones? He must know who Jack is, probably knows who we all are, has to assume we all have phones. You ever see a cop without a cell phone? Why cut the landline?”

“Maybe he likes to show off,” said Hardwick. “Well, this fucker is fucking with the wrong guy.”

“You’re not the only one here, Jack. Maybe he’s fucking with Dave. Maybe he’s fucking with all of us.”

“I don’t give a fuck who he thinks he’s fucking with. But it’s my fucking house that he’s shooting fucking bullets into.”

“This is crazy. I say we get a SWAT team here, like now.”

“We’re not in fucking Albany. It’s not like they’re parked down in Dillweed, waiting for the call. Be an hour before they get here.”

“Dave?” Her expression was begging for support.

Gurney couldn’t provide it. “It might be better to handle this ourselves.”

“Better? How the hell is it better?”

“You make this official, it’s a big can of worms.”

“Can of … what are you talking about?”

“Your career.”

“Career?”

“You’re a BCI investigator, and Jack’s in the process of launching an all-out attack on BCI. How are they going to interpret your being here? You think they’re not going to figure out in about two seconds how he’s getting his inside information? Information he can use to ruin their lives? You think you’re going to survive that—legally or otherwise? I think I’d rather deal with a sniper in the woods than be considered a traitor by people I have to work with.”

Esti’s voice was a bit shaky. “I don’t see what they can prove. There’s no reason—” She stopped abruptly. “What was that?”

“What was what?” asked Gurney.

“Out that window … on the hill facing the house … in the woods … a flash of light …”

Hardwick scrambled around the back of the table toward the window.

Peering into the darkness, Esti whispered, “I’m positive I saw some—” Again she stopped midsentence.

This time Gurney and Hardwick both saw it. “There!” cried Gurney.

“It’s one of my trail cams,” said Hardwick. “Motion-activated. I’ve got half a dozen in the woods—mainly for hunting season.” Another flash occurred, seemingly higher on the hill. “Fucker’s moving up the main trail. Getting away. Fuck that!”