I brought several files with me, including the Hochstetler case file, though I don’t need any of them. They’re nice and thick and official-looking. I set them down on the table with a thud.

I turn on the digital recorder, recite the date, and identify all present. I then glance down at the card in my hand and recite the Miranda rights to Norm.

“Do you understand those rights, Mr. Johnston?” I ask as I pass the card to him.

“I don’t need those rights read to me,” Johnston says. “I’m not some criminal off the street. I’m a town councilman. A respected member of this community.”

“We got it,” Thornsberry snaps at me, overruling him.

“I know what you are,” I tell Johnston.

I see both men looking at the file tab, reading the name scrawled in black marker, and for the first time Thornsberry doesn’t look quite so cocky. Taking my time, I open the Rutledge homicide file, giving both men a flash glance at one of the crime scene photos. I pull out the manila folder that I’d tucked inside and set it in front of me without opening it.

“Look, Chief Burkholder, I don’t know what you think you know about my client,” Thornsberry says, “but I’m familiar with your tactics. I’m aware of how you operate, and I won’t tolerate my client being railroaded by your overzealous policing.”

I look at Thornsberry. “Are you finished?”

His mouth tightens. “I think you should get to the point so Mr. Johnston can get back to his duties as councilman.”

I open the folder and remove copies of the notes Johnston gave me and pass them to him. “Do you recognize these notes?” I ask.

The town councilman jerks his head. “Yes. Of course. I gave them to you. Someone’s been stalking me.”

I pull out a copy of the notes I found at Julia Rutledge’s gallery and hand them to Norm. “A few hours after Julia Rutledge was found stabbed to death in her home, a search of her gallery turned up these.”

Thornsberry gestures toward the notes. “The only thing these notes prove is that your department should have provided police protection for my client when he requested it, instead of dragging him in here to the police department for questioning.”

I don’t look away from Johnston. His forehead is shiny with sweat. He can’t seem to stop staring at the notes that had been sent to Julia Rutledge, as if he’s reading them over and over.

“Norm, do you have any idea who sent those notes to you?” I ask.

“I have no idea.” He shakes his head. “It’s got to be related to council business. Someone who disagrees with me on some issue. As chief, I’m sure you know it happens.”

“Do you have any idea why Julia Rutledge was receiving similar notes?”

“Of course not.”