Cornell’s picture was taken down five minutes after Boone ended the call with Lucas.
—
Michelle Cornell herselfcalled Lucas later in the morning, and again in the afternoon, to update him on the response.
“It’s not slowing down,” she said on the morning call. “If anything, downloads are picking up. Apparently, people have already shown up at the crime scene. The Woodbury police are talking about closing it off, but itisa public park.”
“God bless them,” Lucas said. “Has Lara been sued yet?”
“No, but it’s early, and Doris’s one-time boyfriend has been complaining about harassment.”
“He’s still local?” Lucas asked.
“He’s a revered high school coach up in White Bear. Somebodygot his cell phone number and posted it on one of the websites, along with his address, and now it’s all over the place. He’s gotten a lot of calls and some people showing up at his house and the high school. So, we could be hearing from him.”
“I won’t be,” Lucas said. “That’s you guys.”
“What did you think of the files?” Cornwell asked.
“I haven’t looked at them,” Lucas said. “I went over them years ago and didn’t see any obvious holes. I’m waiting for you to give me something specific to chew on.”
“You’ll get it, if it comes in. We haven’t had much yet. Some requests for clarification of the rules for the reward.”
“All right. Well, stay in touch.” He rang off and went to mow the backyard. He was half done when he couldn’t stand it any longer, went back inside, and began looking at true crime sites, which he’d never seen before.
He wasn’t impressed, and after forty-five minutes, went back outside and finished mowing.
—
On the afternooncall, Cornell said that the files had been downloaded more than a hundred thousand times, probably because of the controversial nature of the crime scene photos, the inclusion of which was being debated on most of the major cable news channels. Cornell said she’d had some suggestions about who the killer might be. “I’ll be sending them to your email…now.”
“I’m busy,” Lucas said. “I’ll look at them tonight. Or tomorrow.”
“Lucas, Marshal Davenport, you’ve got to…”
“I’ll get to them when I get to them,” Lucas said. “I’ve got a brokenstorm window that I’ve got to take down to the hardware store. I need new covers for the air conditioner condensers. Winter’s coming.”
“It’s August…”
“And winter’s on the way and has been since June twentieth,” Lucas said. “This is Minnesota. I’ll look at your stuff when I can, but I will look at it.”
—
Virgil called atfive o’clock: “They have a hundred and sixty-one thousand downloads. They’re breaking the Internet. I am forty-five thousand words into the fourth novel which will be make-or-break and I don’t have time to waste. Have you heard anything substantial?”
“Not a thing, yet. Cornell sent me some names, people that the true-crimers think might be possible suspects, but it’s all guesses and speculation. Too early, I think,” Lucas said. “And c’mon. What does it take to write a novel? You sit on your ass for a couple hours a day and type? If you sleep eight hours, and type for two, that gives you fourteen hours to work the Doris case.”
“Two hours? You’re an ignoramus. All these downloads…what the hell is going on? I thought we’d get a bunch of emails. It turns out there are people scouting possible crime scene locations. The same places the BCA looked at when Doris was murdered, and didn’t find anything.”
“Ride with it,” Lucas said. “With this assignment, you could probably ditch all the other routine shit you’d have to do out in the sticks. Get even more time to type.”
Virgil was silent for a moment, thinking it over. Then he said, “Stay in touch.”
—
Frankie, the motherof Virgil’s twins, was doing the bills when Virgil rang off. They were sitting at the kitchen table in the farmhouse. Honus the Yellow Dog was lying halfway under the table, chewing on a dried bull penis. The twins, Alex and Willa, were at preschool in Mankato.
“You didn’t really make it clear to him, that you were pissed about your names getting out,” Frankie said. “You should have been a little more hard-nosed.”
