Esti made a face. “I know I mentioned Bork—but now when I think about it, I can’t imagine our psycho assassin sitting around watching TV.”

“He may have a search engine alert set for certain names—Spalter, Gurikos, Bincher—so if there’s a promotion for an upcoming news program or anything else related to the case in the media, he’d be aware of it.”

She responded with an uneasy little nod.

There was a glint of excitement in Hardwick’s eyes. “I have an open invite from Asshole Bork to provide updates on the case. So I can plant whatever message we want.”

Esti turned toward Gurney. “Which brings us to the part of what you said that I don’t like the sound of. ‘The target.’ What did you mean by that?”

Hardwick interrupted. “Simple, babe. He wants to sic the wee Peter on us.”

She blinked. “Dave? That’s what you meant?”

“Only if we’re confident that we can maintain control of the situation—and that he’d be falling into our trap, not us into his.”

Her expression was a picture of worry.

“But,” Gurney added quickly, “I’m not really making ‘us’ the target.”

She stared at him. “Who, then?”

He smiled. “Me.”

Hardwick shook his head. “It would make more sense for me to be the target. I was the one who appeared on Criminal Conflict. He’ll see me as enemy number one.”

“More like an enemy of the state police, if I recall your rant.”

Hardwick ignored the criticism and leaned forward, raising a forefinger to emphasize what he was about to say. “You know, there’s another angle here. I’ve been thinking about the shots that cut my power and phone lines. In addition to the possible warning—‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’—there might have been a second purpose. Something more practical.” He paused, making sure he had their full attention.

Gurney had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“That Bolo guy you talked to claimed that Panikos visited the Axton Avenue apartment building almost a week before he whacked Carl. The question is, Why? Well, one reason occurred to me. An obsessive-compulsive hit man might want to zero in his rifle scope ahead of time—at the actual location. What do you think?”

Gurney nodded admiringly. He liked being reassured from time to time that beneath Hardwick’s irritating shell there lurked a solid, insightful detective.

Esti frowned. “What’s that got to do with the shots at your house?”

“If he could put my power lines in the crosshairs of his infrared scope and cut them cleanly, he’d know he could put a bullet between my eyes at that same range any time I stepped onto my front porch.”

Esti looked like she was trying not to appear shaken. “On-site practice? Preparation? You think that was the purpose of those shots from the hill?”