“I already told you about a headless rabbit being placed in my car, and—”
Stryker cut him off. “Another irrelevant event. Is that it?”
“Hardly. The Blackmore Mountain setup was an obvious effort to stop my investigation of Lenny Lerman’s murder by framing me for the murder of his son. You’d have to be blind not to see a pattern in those events.”
Stryker’s rigid gaze was fixed on her desktop. “Apparently it hasn’t occurred to you that the events that you believe were designed to make you back away from the case may have a different purpose altogether.”
“Such as?”
“Every one of these supposed ‘warnings’ has had the actual effect of making you pursue your inquiries with increasing determination. If those events have any relevance at all, you may be looking at them backward. Their real purpose may be to motivate you.”
“That’s quite a creative interpretation.”
“Call it whatever you want. But it’s possible you’re being played for a fool by someone who wants you to stir up confusion about Slade’s conviction.”
Gurney smiled. “If the case against him is solid as you say, why on earth would someone want me to stir up confusion?”
“Obviously, to create controversy. You’re not just anyone, David. Your reputation gives you weight. I can see headlines like ‘Top NYPD Detective Challenges Outcome of Slade Trial.’”
Gurney shook his head. “But what would the endgame be? If there’s ultimately no fire under the smoke—”
Stryker’s anger broke through the forced calmness in her voice. “The endgame would be to embarrass me politically! People focus on controversy, not on its legitimacy. Next year, when I’m up for reelection, they’ll be thinking, ‘Oh, yeah, Stryker, she’s the one behind that questionable conviction.’ That kind of thing ends political careers.”
“You’re actually suggesting that someone put a decapitated rabbit in my car as part of some complicated plot to obstruct your reelection?”
She fixed Gurney with an unblinking stare. “Politics is a blood sport, David. Don’t underestimate what some people might be willing to do.”
He said nothing.
She seemed pleased by his silence. She relaxed, just a little. “So we understand each other, let me make this perfectly clear. As a condition of your freedom during the investigation of the Blackmore homicide, you are to remain in Walnut Crossing, unless I specifically request your presence in this office. You are to have no contact with anyone connected to the Slade case or the Blackmore case. Break this agreement, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
46
GURNEY SAT FOR A WHILE IN THE COUNTY OFFICE BUILDING parking lot, reviewing his meeting with Stryker, trying to sift the truth from the nonsense. He saw no way that the crime scene evidence, in light of the information provided by Nora Rumsten and Tess Larson, could be used to justify his arrest. The sense of relief that provided, however, was diluted by the discovery that Stryker’s sharp mind was warped by paranoia. One of her comments was particularly unsettling: Don’t underestimate what some people might be willing to do. It was clear that some people included her.
He had intended to tell her about the peculiar atmosphere of Bruno Lanka’s store and his impression that the store’s sole visible employee was the same man who sent Tess Larson on a fabricated mission to Harbane. But her burst of irrationality stopped him cold.
He was sure now that there were aspects of the investigation better kept to himself. That thought reminded him that his Beretta was still being held by BCI, presumably as evidence connected to a crime scene. Retrieving it should eventually be a simple matter, but he had no faith it would be quick. He needed to get a replacement ASAP.
He reentered the county office building, located the county pistol clerk, and went through the process of securing an approval card for the purchase of a new sidearm. At the end of the brief bureaucratic transaction, the clerk smiled and said, “Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
The reminder that the holiday was upon them, plus concerns that had been intensified by Stryker, made it seem like a good idea to get in touch with Kyle immediately and suggest postponing his visit.
As soon as he was back in his car, he called Kyle. Expecting it to go to voicemail, he was surprised to hear a live voice.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“I’m having some second thoughts about your coming up this week for Thanksgiving.”
“How come?”
“It’s kind of a dangerous time, because of a case I’m involved in.”
“You still have to eat dinner, right?”
“True. But the situation here has become risky. It’s not something I want you to be exposed to.”
“Are you and Maddie leaving town?”
“As far as I know, we’ll be staying put. On high alert, though, eyes wide open.”
“If it’s safe enough for you and Maddie, then it’s safe enough for me.”
“But what about Kim? It wouldn’t be right to put her—”
“Into a risky situation? She’s a crime reporter. She’s in danger all the time.”
Gurney took a different tack. “I thought you guys broke up.”
“We did. Four times, five times. But we keep reconnecting. We’re not living together, no commitments, just seeing each other.”
“Sounds like the definition of insanity—doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
“I’m not claiming it makes sense. It’s a magnetic thing, this incredible energy she has. She’s off-the-charts ambitious, which ends up pushing us apart, but then I get pulled back in. I know she’s pretty selfish, that she wants what she wants and she doesn’t care how she gets it. I know all that. But her energy, it’s like something wild inside her.”
“That’s what keeps pulling you back in?”
“Exactly. Maybe I have a secret fantasy of taming her. Somehow maintaining all that energy but getting rid of the selfish part.”
Gurney was tempted to point out that such a fantasy would lead to endless frustration. But all he offered was a mildly sarcastic “Good luck with that.”
“Yeah . . . well, anyway . . . about Thanksgiving. If I told Kim you didn’t want us to come because there was an element of risk, she’d burst out laughing. And then she’d be pissed. Besides, if I have to wait until there’s no danger in your life to see you, I’ll never see you at all. It’s been too long as it is. Hey, sorry, one of my law professors is calling. She’s almost impossible to get hold of, and I really have to talk to her. Love you, Dad! See you Thursday!”
Gurney said nothing. He realized he’d been outmaneuvered. And Thanksgiving dinner was shaping up to be . . . interesting.
THERE WAS A sporting goods store in a mall less than a mile from the county office building. Gurney stopped to purchase a gun. Less than twenty minutes after he entered the store, he left with his new sidearm—a Glock 19; his preferred Beretta could be ordered, but the clerk couldn’t promise a delivery date—a shoulder holster, and two boxes of 9mm ammo.
Before setting out again for Walnut Crossing, he called Madeleine to see if she wanted anything from the supermarket on his way home. She didn’t. She’d already gone shopping and had gotten, in addition to the basic necessities, all the ingredients for their Thanksgiving dinner.
“By the way,” she added, “I invited Gerry Mirkle to join us.”
He suspected that she’d invited Gerry as a kind of distraction from the presence of Kim, whom she’d never liked.