Windigo Island: A Novel (Cork O'Connor Mystery Series)
William Kent Krueger
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Cork O’Connor battles vicious villains, both mythical and modern, to rescue a young girl in this riveting mystery from New York Times bestselling, Edgar Award–winning author William Kent Krueger.
When the body of a teenage Ojibwe girl washes up on the shore of an island in Lake Superior, the residents of the nearby Bad Bluff reservation whisper that it was the work of a deadly mythical beast, the Windigo, or a vengeful spirit called Michi Peshu. Such stories have been told by the Ojibwe people for generations, but they don’t explain how the girl and her friend, Mariah Arceneaux, disappeared a year ago. At the request of the Arceneaux family, private investigator Cork O’Connor takes on the case.
But on the Bad Bluff reservation, nobody’s talking. Still, Cork puts enough information together to find a possible trail. He learns that the old port city of Duluth is a modern-day center for sex trafficking of vulnerable women, many of whom are young Native Americans. As the investigation deepens, so does the danger.
Yet Cork holds tight to his higher purpose—his vow to find Mariah, an innocent fifteen-year-old girl whose family is desperate to get her back. With only the barest hope of saving her from men whose darkness rivals that of the legendary Windigo, Cork prepares for an epic battle that will determine whether it will be fear, or love, that truly conquers all.
mostly I relax. Sit on the porch of my cabin. Read maybe.” “Read what?” “Whatever.” “Hunting and fishing magazines?” Cork suspected his daughter said this in a deliberate attempt to get English to be more forthcoming. If so, she seemed to have failed. The big Shinnob was silent and seemed deadly intent on the road ahead. But after half a mile and a good half minute had slipped by, he replied, “Billy Collins. James Welch. David Foster Wallace. Sherman Alexie. Hemingway.” “Whoa,” Jenny said.
crew made up of other men who work for Turner, right?” She thought she saw a little cloud come into his look, a little shadow of concern. But he held his smile when he answered, “Yes.” “You must work well together. Montcalm took second place in its class.” “Best result we’ve had in that race yet.” “Your skipper must have been pleased.” “He was pretty happy.” “Did you celebrate?” The smile slowly faded, and it was clear that they’d entered dangerous territory. “A little, I suppose.”
on Crow Point. The tall grasses and the wildflowers stood bent under the relentless rain. He caught sight of Meloux standing alone on the shoreline of Iron Lake. The old man seemed small against that vast expanse of gray water and gray sky. To Cork he looked bent, too, burdened like all the other living things on Crow Point by the weight of what had fallen on them that day. Chapter 4 They walked the long trail back to the county road where Cork had parked his Explorer. The entire way, Jenny
and they sat together at the table and sipped the good brew in silence, while the birds sang outside the windows and morning sunlight gilded the room. “The accordion,” Shinny finally said, smiling at Daniel. “This is a story I haven’t heard.” “Okay.” Daniel sounded as if he was settling into a tale he’d told before, but not one he particularly liked telling. “My grandmother loved Lawrence Welk. When I spent weekends with her, we watched his show, which was in reruns by then. So it started out
wondering what became of human beings who lived too long without beauty. South of Williston, they turned off the highway and took a dirt road east through hills still untouched by the blight of the town’s sprawl. After fifteen minutes, they mounted a crest and Jenny saw the Missouri River below. The river itself was a lazy, red-brown flow between hills covered with the baked, brown grasses of a late, dry summer. Along the banks there were green stands of cottonwoods and other thriving