TUESDAY, AUGUST 22, PRESENT DAY
Russ tried to remain positive while handing out assignments at the end of the morning shift briefing. “Noble, you’re going to hit the motels and the bars again, and this time, add in any of the area attractions along Route 9 and the Northway. Rodeos, amusement parks, stuff like that. You’re asking if they recognize her as a guest or as an employee. Plenty of college kids come up to the area for summer jobs; maybe that was her gig.”
“Right, Chief.”
“Knox, you get the sex offenders list.”
She groaned.
“I know, I know, but we’ve got to either alibi them or mark ’em as persons of interest.”
“Can I cut it down to offenders who would have been old enough to do the scene in ’72?”
Russ shook his head. “No, but you can limit it to the ones who like ’em eighteen and above.”
Lyle snorted.
“Just shoot me in the ass,” Knox said.
Russ elected not to hear. “Lyle, you pursue those cell phone record warrants. We know there were calls made within that area, and we’ve got a list of numbers. I want to find out the owners’ names and where they were calling. Once we have those, we can scratch anybody local we’ve already cleared and start to follow up on the rest.”
“You do realize Judge Ryswick is gonna want a separate application for each and every number, right?”
“I’m sure your work will be up to its usual meticulous standard.” He turned to the other side of the room. “Paul.”
Paul Urquhart started, his mouth half-open in a yawn. Lyle had moved him off the night shift to help with their manpower shortage during the investigation.
“Tim and Duane will be splitting the road construction shifts. You’re going to be on traffic, and our swing responder.”
“Ticketing tourists. Yay.”
“Think of them as paying guests. We want them coming back, so use your company manners.”
Paul sketched him a salute. Russ wasn’t happy with leaving Paul as the public face of the MKPD, but he’d be worse on the investigation. Russ supported the police union, but sometimes he wished it didn’t make it so hard to fire guys like Paul. Being lackadaisical on the job and aggressive with motorists wasn’t enough. Of course, with the budget the way it was, even if he could get rid of Urquhart, the aldermen wouldn’t pay for a replacement. And then he’d be even more shorthanded than he was right now.
“Okay,” he said. “Dismissed. Noble, Knox, let me know immediately you find anything.” The group rose, gathering their notebooks and laptops before leaving. He noticed Knox went out of her way to avoid Urquhart, which probably meant Russ was going to have to drag the man into his office for another lecture on respecting his fellow officers.
“Trouble there.” Lyle nodded toward the now-empty doorway.
“You noticed it, too?”
“Ayah. She’s been a lot less chatty, more businesslike with all of us since, you know. The tapes. But she’s ducking and weaving to keep away from Paul.”
Russ shook his head. “Christ on a crutch. I must be the only police chief in history who has to deal with one of his people being a former porn star.”
Lyle picked up the cell phone numbers printout. “You could cut her loose, you know. Morals charge.”
“I don’t want to cut her loose. She’s a good cop. Better than Urquhart, for sure. Plus, she needs the job.”
“So, doesn’t Paul? He’s paying child support for three kids.”
“And Noble won’t be able to find a position anywhere else, and Tim and Duane need the health insurance, and being a cop is the only stable thing Eric’s got in his life right now. Everybody needs these jobs.”
Lyle grinned. “Excepting maybe us.”
“Retirement’s looking better all the time.” Russ sighed. “I’m going to have Harlene call a press conference this afternoon. In time for the five o’clock news.”
Lyle squinted up toward the ceiling, looking like a farmer worried about rain. Russ knew it signaled his deputy chief’s brain whirring furiously. “Not a bad idea. We’ve got a lot going on. We ought to get out in front of the latest goodie instead of being hit from behind. You want me to contact the mayor—no, better would be Garry Greuling. He’s in our corner.”
“We don’t need anyone from the board of aldermen. Or the mayor’s office. I intend to lay out more of the facts on the case—what little we have of ’em—and ask for the public’s assistance.”
“Huh. Really?” Lyle leaned against the whiteboard, somehow managing to avoid getting smudges on his summer uniform sleeve. “I mean, it’s true the ‘possible hit-and-run’ story is getting pretty thin. I’ve been fielding calls from the Post-Star and the TV stations. But asking for help from civilians? We’ll have to assign someone full time just to answer the phone. For credible tips, mind you. I’m not even talking about the psychics and crazies and false confessions. Don’t you think we’d be better off using what manpower we have on the investigation itself?”
“We’ve got nothing, Lyle.” Russ gathered up his briefing folders and slid off the table. “It’s been seventy-two hours and we’ve got no ID, no evidence, no cause of death, no suspects. We’ve got to shake things loose. I need the girl’s face out there. I need people seeing her dress, and hearing some of the details, and calling in with tips, even if they do flood the switchboard. We need to get a”—he twisted his hand in the air—“a handle on something. One thing we can pull on to crack open the rest of what we don’t know.” He started for the door.
Lyle fell in step. “Let me take the press conference, then. I’m the department liaison. And I happen to know you hate answering reporters’ questions only a little less than you hate not having any leads on a case.”
“I want you there, absolutely. But as soon as we release any details, the old story is going to surface. Like you said, I need to be out there in front of it, from the start, so no one can say I’ve got something to hide.”
Lyle looked at him dubiously. “How ’bout I whip you up a statement you can read. Just in case.” He headed for his minuscule office. “Make sure you’ve got your dress uniform. Half the work of being a press flack is looking the part.”