Hardwick’s grin widened. Wherever he was going, he was obviously getting a kick out of the ride. Gurney glanced at the speedometer needle and saw that it was now hovering around seventy. They were heading downhill past the west end of the reservoir, approaching the tight curve at Barney’s Kayak Rentals. Gurney’s jaw tightened. Old muscle cars had plenty of horsepower, but the handling in fast turns could be unforgiving.

“Where am I going with this?” Hardwick’s eyes were gleaming with delight. “Well, let me ask you a question. Would you say there might be a slight conflict-of-interest issue … a slight due-process issue … a slight tainted-investigation issue … if a potential suspect in a murder case was fucking the chief investigating officer?”

“What—Klemper? And Alyssa Spalter?”

“Mick the Dick and the Demented Slut herself.”

“Jesus. You have proof of that?”

For a moment, the grin grew bigger and brighter than ever. “You know, Davey boy, I think that’s one of those little things you can help us with.”

Chapter 11

The Little Birds

Gurney said nothing. And he continued to say nothing for the next seventeen minutes, which is how long it took them to drive from the reservoir to Walnut Crossing, and then up the winding dirt and gravel road from the county route to his pond, pasture, and farmhouse.

Sitting next to the house in the roughly idling GTO, he knew he had to say something, and he wanted it to be unambiguous. “Jack, I have the feeling we’re on two different paths with this project of yours.”

Hardwick looked as if there were something sour in his mouth. “How so?”

“You keep pushing me toward the tainted-investigation issues, the due-process defects, et cetera.”

“That’s what appeals are all about.”

“I understand that. I’ll get there. But I can’t start there.”

“But if Mick Klemper—”

“I know, Jack, I know. If you can show that the CIO ignored an avenue of investigation because—”

“Because he was fucking a potential suspect, we could get the conviction reversed on that alone. Bingo! What’s wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. My problem is how I’m supposed to get from here to there.”

“A smart first step would be to have a chat with the breathtaking Alyssa, get a sense of who we’re dealing with, the pressure points that could turn her our way, the angles that—”

“You see, that’s exactly what I mean by two different paths.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“For me, that chat could be a smart tenth or eleventh step, not a first step.”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.”

Gurney gazed out the car’s side window. Over the ridge beyond the pond, a hawk was slowly circling. “Apart from getting Kay Spalter to put her name on the dotted line, what am I supposed to be bringing to this party?”