Blood Hollow: A Novel (Cork O'Connor Mystery Series)
William Kent Krueger
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Tough-as-nails former small-town sheriff Cork O'Connor is forced into the center of an eerie mystery with a shocking twist in this "vivid and realistic" (Booklist) Anthony Award-winning novel from critically acclaimed author William Kent Krueger.
When the corpse of a beautiful high school student is discovered on a hillside four months after her disappearance on New Year's Eve, all evidence points to her boyfriend, local bad boy Solemn Winter Moon. Despite Solemn's self-incriminating decision to go into hiding, Cork O'Connor, Aurora, Minnesota's former sheriff, isn't about to hang the crime on a kid he's convinced is innocent. In an uphill battle to clear Solemn's name, Cork encounters no shortage of adversity. Some -- like bigotry and bureaucracy -- he knows all too well. What Cork isn't prepared for is the emergence of a long-held resentment from his own childhood. And when Solemn reappears, claiming to have seen a vision of Jesus Christ in Blood Hollow, the mystery becomes thornier than Cork could ever have anticipated. And that's when the miracles start happening...
picked up at the sheriff’s department and opened the first file. “You didn’t happen to discuss a reasonable fee with Oliver Bledsoe,” Jo said as she put a chunk of smoked ham on a cutting board to slice. Cork took a long drink of cold beer. “I’d do this even if they paid me nothing.” Jo set a block of cheddar on the counter and, beside it, put what was left of a loaf of dark rye. “People are asking if you’re ever going to open Sam’s Place again. Some of them. The rest seem to be wondering if
wide, sun-darkened face, a strong slender body, eyes that over the years had taken on a perpetual squint from working outside. Cork put down his saw and smiled at the women. “Hey there, Dot. Been a while.” “Cork.” Dot reached out and shook his hand so hard the bones grated. “What’s up?” “Cops been at my place,” Dot answered. “Looking for Solemn. Sons of bitches wouldn’t say why.” “Was Solemn there?” “Haven’t seen him for a couple of days. I told them that.” “Has he been in any trouble
more consistent with a blow from something like a club or a bar than from hitting her head on a rock in the accident. Also, there were signs of sexual activity, from the bruises it looks like some pretty rough play, so rape isn’t out of the question. After that, Randy Gooding began taking a good look at the evidence he gathered at Widow’s Creek. Some food wrappers—” “Junk food. And the autopsy showed that none of it was in her stomach, right?” “That’s right. There was a beer bottle, too.” “A
hands on him,” the woman said. “Touch him.” The first of those who’d given the cry neared Solemn. Gooding put himself between them and Winter Moon. “Stay back,” he shouted. “That’s a police order.” It made them pause only a moment. Solemn reached out and laid both his hands on the boy’s head. He looked at the woman, his dark eyes full of doubt. “Like this?” The flood of people swept into view. The sound of their coming triggered those already near Solemn, and those anxious few shoved past
but a lot of it we didn’t. We kept these poetry journals that we only shared with the teacher and a poetry partner. Charlotte was my poetry partner. I saw what she didn’t share with the class. What she read out loud was fine and all, but what she wrote in her journal was really different. Way better than anything else any of us wrote. But very dark.” “Dark how?” “You know that artist Hieronymus Bosch?” “The guy who paints those weird nightmare things, right?” “Yeah. That was Charlotte’s