— Letter from Robert Crowley, Oct. 5, 1873.
Wednesday, Oct. 11
By the morning staff meeting, Quinn had already basked in the glow of a thousand congratulations. Everyone but Kyle had told him how great the story turned out, even advertising employees he barely knew.
But it all felt hollow.
It wasn’t the play the story got or even how it turned out that bothered him. First, Kate had not looked him in the eye since Monday, and it was apparent to him that something was bothering her.
But something else gnawed at Quinn. The story had gone off without a hitch yesterday. By mid-morning, he had confirmed the victim’s name with three others connected with the police department. By the afternoon, the department itself confirmed the victim, her address and that her husband had been taken into custody.
One police officer whom Quinn had never spoken to had called to confirm details of past arrests with Don Kilgore and explained that he had a longstanding abusive relationship with his wife.
In short, by Tuesday evening, he had a perfect story-good sources, a great lead and hardly any revisions from the editor.
But it was his very success that bothered him. It felt too easy.
Everything had simply fallen into place-confirmations from a police department that on a normal day would barely confirm that the sky was blue, an official arrest in the evening and even an unsolicited call from a brand new source.
It fit too well. Quinn’s unease increased every time he thought about it. The reporting instinct he had counted on for years-what he jokingly called his “Spidey sense”-was tingling.
He thought he had been on the story of a lifetime. But now he had the distinct feeling he had been used. The story was so right it felt wrong.
It was unnerving and the more congratulations he received, the worse he felt.
What was it Buzz said? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they are not out to get you. Quinn thought Buzz was more than a little crazy, but maybe he was right on that one.
He leaned forward and stared at his keyboard. From a distance it looked fine, but when he examined it closely, it had crumbs and small hairs between the keys. It looked nasty. It seemed an apt metaphor.
Almost everyone else appeared happy. Rebecca actually seemed in a good mood, an unusual state for her. And Laurence had already told him twice what an excellent story it was. He acted like some kind of proud father, probably because he knew the paper would sell well today. Murders were more common than they once were-and God knows this town had its own brand of serial killer a dozen years back-but they were rare enough to attract attention.
But Kate appeared more withdrawn than ever. She complimented him briefly in the morning, but hadn’t said much of anything else. And she had reason to be happy apart from his story. Quinn noticed Kate’s first by-line had ended up on the front page, an exclusive from Martin Heller offering a compromise with the conservationists at Phillips Farm. On any other week, it would have been the lead story. But he could not imagine that Kate would hold that against him.
Rebecca interrupted Quinn’s reverie when she started rounding everyone up for the staff meeting. Quinn left his keyboard and followed her into the conference room.
The meeting was already out of Laurence’s control by the time Ethan Holden walked in. Kyle had spent 15 minutes discussing the poor quality of the photos with his story, which had touched off a fight with Josh, the head photographer, while Alexis complained bitterly about last minute changes made to her story on the new science lab at Park View High School.
At least two people audibly groaned when they saw Holden open the door and stroll in. He looked at the motley group around the table, smiled briefly, and then walked to the far side of the room.
“Please continue,” he said in a deep gravelly voice. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
Janus snorted and when Holden looked at him, acted like he had a coughing fit.
Laurence placed his palms on the table and began for a third time.
“I think we had a good paper,” he said. “Quinn, I want to make sure we keep a close eye on your story. They may have arrested the husband, but if we have new details by next week, we should make sure to stay on top of that.”
This was the part of the staff meeting Quinn despised. Laurence did not have a clue what to say now that Holden-his boss-had shown up. He kept glancing in his direction waiting for the inevitable interruption.
Quinn also hated being told to follow the story. Did Laurence really think he wouldn’t? That he would just walk away? No, he doubted Laurence did. But he had to say something.
He glanced at Kate, who was the only one not darting glances in Holden’s direction. Instead, she seemed to be staring at the wall.
Quinn realized with alarm that Laurence had asked him something.
“Yeah,” he said, hoping it was a yes or no question he had been asked.
Laurence nodded.
“I also want to stay on the kindergarten fire,” Laurence said.
Kyle groaned quietly.
“What more do you want me to say?” he asked Laurence.
“Interview the parents,” Laurence said. “Talk to other kindergartens.”
“I don’t think there will be a rash of kindergarten fires, Laurence,” he said.
“Laurence is right,” boomed Holden, and Helen and Alexis both jumped in their chairs.
Laurence looked surprised to have Holden supporting him.
“Kids,” Holden said. “It is always about kids. Remember that.”
Kyle nodded. The comment had made little sense to anybody but it was safer to nod around Holden.
“Kids,” he said again, gravely. “And animals. People love animals.”
Here it went. The semi-monthly everybody-loves-animals story.
“We need to put more on the front page,” Holden continued. “People connect with animals. Just the other week, Paul Gibson and I went hunting. He told me how important it was that the local paper emphasize this county’s wildlife. That way people can appreciate it more.”
“By killing it?” Janus asked.
Laurence glared at him, but Holden didn’t appear to notice.
“It’s important we tell people what is unique about this county, particularly the wildlife,” Holden said. “I was hoping we would have a few shots of animals in our special Halloween section, Laurence. Maybe a horse-drawn carriage ride in a pumpkin patch. Don’t you think that would be a good idea?”
Heads swiveled sharply in Holden’s direction and there was an audible gasp from Alexis. People had been beginning to nod off, but that comment got their attention.
“What Halloween section?” Rebecca asked, looking at Laurence.
“Uh yes, Mr. Holden, I was going to talk with you about that,” Laurence replied, and looked away from everyone.
“Yes?” Holden said and looked at Laurence expectantly.
“Well, I thought, maybe in private we could discuss it.”
“No time like the present,” Holden replied gruffly. “Let’s all talk about it. This is going to be a big deal.”
“Well, sir, I just wasn’t sure that the county is quite ready for this,” Laurence said.
“Ready? I would say it’s overdue,” Holden replied. “We’ve been doing it in the Fairfax papers for five years. It sells well every time. We need to expand it to Loudoun. None of the other papers even mention…”
“That’s precisely my point, Mr. Holden,” Laurence replied. “Halloween here is a little different.”
“I know, I know, the killer,” Holden said. “But that was more than a decade ago.”
“Loudoun isn’t like other places, Mr. Holden,” Rebecca said. “Since 1994, Leesburg has banned any public celebration of Halloween. Shopkeepers are generally discouraged from painting even a pumpkin in the window, much less a ghost. This is not something we want to celebrate here.”