White River Burning. John Verdon

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СКАЧАТЬ suggested a situation spinning out of control:

      UPSTATE CITY DEBATES YEAR-OLD CONTROVERSY

      BDA PROTEST OPENS OLD WOUNDS

      WHITE RIVER MAYOR CALLS FOR CALM IN FACE OF PROVOCATIONS

      BDA FIREBRAND MARCEL JORDAN CALLS POLICE MURDERERS

      DOZENS INJURED AS DEMONSTRATIONS TURN UGLY

      JORDAN TO BECKERT: “YOU HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS”

      WHITE RIVER ON THE EDGE OF CHAOS

      ROCK-THROWING, ARSON, LOOTING

      PROTESTERS BEATEN, ARRESTED IN CLASH WITH POLICE

      SNIPER KILLS LOCAL COP—POLICE DECLARE WAR ON BDA

      Gurney’s reading of the articles added little to the information in the overheated headlines. His quick perusal of the comments section after each article reinforced his belief that these “reader involvement” features were mainly invitations to idiocy.

      His main feeling, however, was a growing sense of unease at Kline’s eagerness to pull him into the gathering storm.

      5

      When Madeleine returned from her hike, radiating the satisfaction and exhilaration she derived from the outdoors, Gurney was still in his den, hunched over his computer screen. Having moved on from the internet news sites, he was exploring the physical reality of White River with the help of Google Street View.

      Although it was only an hour’s drive from Walnut Crossing, he’d never had a compelling reason to go there. He had a sense that the place was emblematic of the decline of upstate New York cities and towns, suffering from industrial collapse, agricultural relocation, a shrinking middle-class population, political mismanagement, the spreading heroin epidemic, troubled schools, eroding infrastructure—with the added element of strained police relations with a sizable minority community, a problem now vividly underscored.

      The image of White River was further clouded, ironically, by the looming presence of the area’s largest employer and supplier of much of its economic lifeblood: the White River Correctional Facility. Or, as it was known locally, Rivcor.

      What Gurney could see, as Google Street View led him along the city’s main avenues, supported his negative preconceptions. There was even a clichéd set of railroad tracks dividing the good section of town from the bad.

      Madeleine was standing next to him now, frowning at the screen. “What town is that?”

      “White River.”

      “Where all the trouble is?”

      “Yes.”

      Her frown deepened. “It’s about that traffic-stop shooting of a black motorist last year, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “And some statue they want removed?”

      Gurney looked up at her. “What statue?”

      “A couple of people were talking about it at the clinic the other day. A statue of someone connected to the early days of the prison.”

      “That part I wasn’t aware of.”

      She cocked her head curiously. “Does this have something to do with your call from Sheridan Kline?”

      “Actually the call turned out to be a visit. By the man himself.”

      “Oh?”

      “He said something about not being that far away and preferring face-to-face meetings. But I suspect that coming here was always his plan.”

      “Why didn’t he say that from the beginning?”

      “Knowing how manipulative and paranoid he is, I’d guess he wanted to take me by surprise to keep me from recording our meeting.”

      “The subject was that sensitive?”

      Gurney shrugged. “Didn’t seem so to me. But it would be hard to know for sure without knowing what he wants from me.”

      “He came all this way and didn’t tell you what he wants?”

      “Yes and no. He says he wants my help investigating a fatal shooting. Claims he’s short-staffed, running out of time, with the city on the verge of Armageddon, et cetera.”

      “But . . .”

      “But it doesn’t add up. Procedurally, the investigation of homicides is strictly a police matter. If there’s a need for more personnel, that’s a police command decision. There are channels for that. It’s not up to the DA or his investigatory staff to take this sort of initiative—unless there’s something he’s not telling me.”

      “You said there was a fatal shooting. Who was killed?”

      Gurney hesitated. Law-enforcement deaths had always been a sensitive subject with Madeleine, and more so since he himself was wounded two years earlier at the end of the Jillian Perry case. “A White River cop was hit last night by a sniper at a Black Defense Alliance demonstration.”

      Her expression froze. “He wants you to find the sniper?”

      “That’s what he says.”

      “But you don’t believe him?”

      “I have the feeling I haven’t gotten the whole story yet.”

      “So what are you going to do?”

      “I haven’t decided.”

      She gave him one of those probing looks that made him feel as if his soul were on display, then switched gears. “You remember that we’re going to the big LORA fund-raiser tonight at the Gelters’, right?”

      “That thing is tonight?”

      “You might actually enjoy it. I understand the Gelters’ house is something to see.”

      “I’d rather see it when it isn’t full of idiots.”

      “What are you so angry about?”

      “I’m not angry. I’m just not looking forward to spending time with those people.”

      “Some of those people are quite nice.”

      “I find the whole LORA thing a little nuts. Like that logo on their letterhead. A goddamn groundhog standing on its hind legs and leaning on a crutch. Jesus.”

      “It’s an injured-animal rehabilitation center. What do you think their logo should be?”

      “Better question: Why do we have to attend a fund-raiser for limping groundhogs?”

      “When we’re asked to take part in a community event, it’s nice to say yes once in a while. And don’t tell СКАЧАТЬ