Next I scrolled through a bunch of news sites. None ofthe outlets had breaking news on the case, though several were presently linking the development tentatively to the disappearance of the campers. A few were running other theories up the flagpole—like the one Alice had first suggested about the killer being an out-of-towner who had hauled the bodies from another location and dumped them here.
But I still didn’t buy it. Even if the killer had once lived elsewhere, he was clearly in these partsnow.
Finally, I checked my email in-box. Several reporters had reached out, using a second email address of mine that was listed on my author website, and asked if they could interview me about discovering the bodies. I took a few minutes to respond, promising to call them later in the afternoon if time permitted. By doing so I’d be establishing goodwill, in case I ever was looking for reciprocity.
My good pal Matt Wong had written me a note, too, congratulating me effusively. Of course. I had the inside track now, and he wanted to make nice and see what info he could download from me.
The one message I was actually happy to see was from my friend Jessie Pendergrass, whom I’d worked next to during my short stint atBuzzmagazine. “See from your posts you’re in LG. I’m in Lake Placid for the weekend. Want me to stop by for lunch on drive back Mon?”
“Absolutely,” I wrote back, relishing the thought of her company. “W confirm Sun.” I assumed I’d still be in Lake George on Monday, but it would all depend on how the story evolved from here.
I’d just finished my meal and ordered coffee when Dodson Crowe phoned.
“I’d always heard you like to put yourself in the thick of things,” he said, “but I wasn’t expecting you’d actually find the body.”
“Well, don’t count on that foreverystory,” I said, laughing.
“The site traffic’s been outrageous. People are eating this stuff up.”
“Frankly, I never would have guessed it would unfold this way. You want me to see how this plays out, right?”
“Definitely. And we need to leverage it even better than we have been.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Video. I want to shoot one with you tomorrow.”
That was the last thing I wanted to be doing. In fact, one of the factors that had attracted me toCrime Beatwas that it didn’t feature lame reenactments of crimes and hyperactive, hardly-ready-for-prime-time reporters pumping stricken family members for quotes.
“I didn’t think you did video.”
“We’re beginning to roll it out with a few stories. I hadn’t planned on it for this one, but considering how big the case is now, I think we should put you on camera.”
“Dodson, I have zero experience interviewing people on camera,” I said.
“You won’t have to interview anyone. I only want you to recap the story to the camera and we’ll splice in photos and footage.”
That didn’t make it any better. Though I’d done my fair share of TV appearances, both when I worked atBuzzand when I was promotingA Model Murder, I found the experience about as much fun as a bikini wax. Besides, I could hear Marc Horton’s words echoing in my mind:You never know what can trigger one of these guys.
“Um—”
“There’s a videographer in Albany whom I’ve used for one of my other sites. I’m going to have him arrange to meet up with you midday.”
Didn’t sound like I had a choice.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”
Signing off, I checked my watch. Time to swing by J.J.’s. This being Saturday, there was a chance, I realized, that she was currently standing on the sidelines of a soccer game or dance recital, but as I pulled up to the house ten minutes later, I detected movement through one of the front windows. Maybe I was in luck.
I had one foot on the pavement when I caught sight of J.J.’s door swinging open. If she was on the move, I needed to catch up with her before she jumped in her car. But lo and behold, it wasn’t J.J. who stepped onto the porch.
It was none other than Doug Claiborne. Kelly’s Ken-doll husband.
Chapter 12
OKAY, SLOW DOWN,IWARNED MYSELF ASISTARTEDto leap to conclusions. It was possible that Doug Claiborne’s visit was related to recent events. Perhaps he was conferring with J.J. about what role she would play in a memorial service.
And yet his furtive movements suggested that he was on the down low. After the door closed behind him, he glanced quickly up and down the street and then bolted to a vehicle parked five cars up from the house.
