When the lingering images had subsided and the worst of the feeling had passed, he got up, took a shower, and dressed.
At 7:00 AM Kline’s man arrived as promised, accepted Steele’s cell phone, and departed with hardly a word.
At 7:45 AM Geraldine Mirkle arrived to pick up Madeleine for one of their same-schedule days at the clinic.
At 8:30 AM Gurney left for his meeting with Kim Steele.
His GPS directed him off the interstate at the Larvaton-Badminton exit onto Fishers Road heading north toward Angina. A few miles later it directed him onto Dry Brook Lane, a gravelly road that rose in a series of S curves through an old hardwood forest. At a driveway marked by a brightly painted mailbox, his GPS announced he had reached his destination. The driveway brought him into a clearing, at the center of which stood a small farmhouse surrounded by flower beds and lush spring grass. A red barn with a metal roof stood at the edge of the clearing. Kim Steele’s small white car was parked by the house, and he parked next to it.
He knocked on the side door and waited. He knocked again. After a third attempt he went around to the back door, with the same result. While he was puzzling over the situation, he looked out over the back field toward the barn and noticed a riding mower next to the barn door.
As he headed across the field, Kim Steele emerged from the barn toting a large red gas can. She carried it to the mower and was in the process of opening the gas tank when she saw him. She watched him approaching, then returned to her task, hefting the can into position and wrestling its stiff spout into the tank opening. She spoke without looking up.
“Things have to get done.”
“Can I help?”
She seemed not to hear him. Appearing marginally more organized than the last time he’d seen her, she was wearing the same shirt, but the buttons were now aligned. Her hair seemed neater, shinier.
“They called him in on his day off,” she said, trying to balance the big can over the tank. “He wanted to mow this field. He said it was important to mow it at least once a week. Or the grass would clog the mower. Once it gets clogged . . .”
“Let me help you with that.” He reached for the can.
“No! This is my job.”
“Okay.” He paused. “You were saying they called him in?”
She nodded.
“Because of the demonstration?”
“They were calling everyone in.”
“Did he say who in the department called him?”
She shook her head.
“Do you remember if there were any other calls for him that day?”
“The day he was
He paused again. “I know it’s horrible to think about this—”
She cut him off. “It’s all I think about. There’s nothing else I
He nodded. “I’m just wondering if John got any other calls that day, other than the message you found on his phone.”
“Shit!”
The mower’s gas tank was overflowing. She yanked the can away and dropped it on the ground. She appeared close to tears.
The situation touched him in a way that made it difficult for him to speak.
The strong odor of the fuel filled the still air.
“That overflowing-gas thing happens to me all the time,” he said awkwardly.
She said nothing.
“Can I mow the field for you?”
“What?”
“I spend a lot of time mowing at home. I enjoy it. It would be one less thing for you to have to do. I’d be happy to do it.”
She looked at him, blinking as if to clear her vision. “That’s kind of you. But I have to do these things myself.”
A silence fell between them.
He asked, “Have John’s friends from the department been coming by to see you?”
“Some people came. I told them to go away.”
“You didn’t want them here?”
“I can’t bear to even look at them until I know what happened.”
“You don’t trust anyone in the department?”
“No. Only Rick Loomis.”
“He’s different from the others?”
“Rick and John were friends. Allies.”
“
“Yes. They had enemies.”
“Do you know the names of their enemies?”
“I wish to God I did. But John didn’t believe in bringing the ugly details of his work home. I’m sure he thought he was making my life easier by keeping things to himself.”
“Do you know if Rick Loomis shared your husband’s suspicions about things that were going on in the department?”
“I think so.”
“Was he helping him look into old cases?”
“They were working on something together. I know I sound hopelessly vague.” She sighed, picked up the gas tank cap, and screwed it back on. “If you’d like to come in for a while, I could make some coffee.”
“I’d like that. And I’d like to hear more about your husband—anything you want to tell me. I’d like to understand who he was.” As soon as he said it, he could see in her eyes the impact of that past tense verb,
She nodded, wiped her hands on her jeans, and led the way across the field to the house.
