Talmadge stayed on the phone with her while he used a second line to wake up the world.
Six minutes later, the first police car arrived. Never in Esther’s life had those flashing lights meant so much. While the police approached her property on foot, Esther called Craig. The need to hear his voice overcame her reluctance to disturb him at a quarter past eleven. Four minutes after that, Talmadge arrived with his attorney, who also happened to be on the city council. Talmadge’s embrace was fierce enough to threaten Esther’s first tears of the night.
Because of the councilman’s presence, a deputy chief arrived with a senior detective. As she watched the flashlights play off trees and the walls of her home, Esther tried to tell herself it was all a mistake. That the three shadowy figures were somehow components of a normal night. She wanted desperately to pretend that the fabric of her safe haven had not been ripped apart. But the analytical portion of her brain would not be stifled.
Just as the police completed their initial survey, Craig pulled up in his car. His hug helped heal the night more than Esther thought was possible.
The detective was a stocky woman named Sanchez, whose dark eyes reflected a coppery glint in the streetlights. She told Esther, “The forensics team should clear your home shortly. I need to ask you a few questions.”
Esther handed Craig her phone and stepped away. “All right.”
When the councilman approached, Sanchez said, “Give us a minute, please.”
“I am here as Ms. Larsen’s legal representative,” the councilman replied.
The detective was then joined by the deputy chief. Sanchez did her best to ignore them both and told Esther, “Walk me through what happened tonight.”
Esther could not quite keep her voice steady as she described the events. Sanchez stopped her repeatedly, asking questions that forced her to proceed more slowly. The detective’s questions drew up details that Esther would otherwise have dismissed as unimportant. When she finished, Sanchez asked, “What made you certain this man was a threat?”
The lawyer protested, “Oh, come on, Detective. Three strangers gather in the middle of her front lawn for a confab?”
“No, it was before that,” Esther said. “He scared me the very first moment he became visible.”
“Come with me, please.” Sanchez led her down the street. “You say he was hidden here?”
“Inside the hedge. Right. He must have been stationed there for at least an hour. That’s how long I was parked.”
“And you stopped the car where you did because . . . ?”
Esther had already been through this three times. She could see the lawyer was about to object. But she lifted her hand, stifling his protest. She liked how the detective was using the repetition to bring out new details. “My assistant phoned me with the news that she had been fired.”
“From the same bank where you resigned. Are the two events linked in any way to tonight’s disturbance?”
“I have no hard evidence to suggest this,” Esther said.
A hard-edged humor shone in Sanchez’s eyes. “Now you sound like a detective.”
Esther stepped into the alcove carved from the hedge. A cast-iron gate blocked her entry. The detective’s flashlight showed where it had been dusted for prints. Esther unlatched the gate and pushed it open. The gate squeaked loudly. Esther rocked the gate back and forth, listening to the noise. “My car window was open. I would definitely have heard this.”
“So the man was standing right here the entire time you were in your car.”
“I stayed there because I was trying to sort through tonight’s events,” Esther said. “I’m an analyst. It’s what I do.”
“And did you come to any conclusions?”
“I need to uncover several more elements before I can determine whether my former employees were involved.”
“If they were behind the incident, your search might cause them to try again.”
Esther liked how the hedge offered them a semblance of privacy. She felt safe enough to reveal her tremors. “I understand.”
“Do you really?” Sanchez motioned Esther out of the alcove. “Walk with me.”
They proceeded down the driveway and around to the rear of Esther’s home, trailed by the deputy chief and Talmadge’s attorney. A trio of portable lights had been set up near the large birch tree in her backyard. A man was on his knees, waiting for a plaster cast to dry. Sanchez showed how an individual had stood here for quite some time and then held out a small plastic bag containing six cigarette filters.
“Here’s what I think might have taken place,” Sanchez said. “This is all conjecture, so don’t hold me to anything. But it looks like there was a five-man crew.”
“Three in front, plus the rear observer.” The sight of the cigarette butts dangling from Sanchez’s fingers left Esther feeling nauseated. “Where’s the fifth?”
“He or she played mobile observer. They parked outside the television station. They knew you were there because they caught your act or were told about it by whoever ordered the hit.”
The casual way Sanchez said the word hit opened the night like a great gaping maw. Esther said weakly, “They waited for me.”
“You described how you exited the station with several others. That probably saved your life. There might have been two in the car, a driver to help spot you and the hired killer. Or maybe they’d already decided to go for you here at your home. In either case, I’m thinking they only had one car. They didn’t want to risk you noticing you were being trailed. So they followed long enough to be sure you were heading home. Then they called ahead. And team two got into position. Three in front, one in backup position right here.” Sanchez slipped the plastic bag into her pocket. “Only you didn’t pull into the drive. You stopped far enough away for them to be unable to identify your vehicle. And there were others parked along the street.”
The deputy chief said, “You are one very lucky lady.”