The sheriff continued, directing his remarks to SAIC Macklin. “If you federal gentlemen are helpin’, I’m all ears. If you’re here to stir up more problems, thank you but we got plenty ’nough already. I need arrests and before that I need suspects. There’s a conspiracy of silence among the Negroes, and I know how to get people talking if I has to.”

Solomon crouched low on the balls of his feet. Preserved in the firm muck of the forest floor were indentations that didn’t read well looking down from directly above. But when Solomon reconsidered them from a low side angle, he made out what looked to him like the impression of a child’s bare foot.

Not unlike that of a young boy.

Solomon opened his mouth to bring this to the attention of the Jackson FBI official and the local sheriff. But he held his tongue. They were paying very little attention to him anyway. The sheriff was still complaining.

“If the federal government wants to spend some of my tax money on investigating this murder, well, that would be the first time I’ve ever got satisfaction from Washington, DC. Money well spent. But if you ain’t here about the killing, and is more interested in preserving and protecting a certain class of people’s civil rights and all that, then I got an actual crime to investigate while you all get wet spittin’ into the wind.”

Solomon straightened. He wished he had thought to bring a camera. “The victim here, Hack Cawsby, he was a bank manager?”

“He was,” said the sheriff.

“And the leader of the local Citizens’ Council?”

“Sure. What of it?”

“Citizens’ Council is a segregation group.”

“A states’ rights advocacy group.” The coded term came out of his mouth automatically.

“Like I said.”

The sheriff smiled at Solomon’s impudence. “All right. Have it your way. Sure does point the way toward whodunnit.”

“Maybe the color of their skin,” said Solomon. “You still have quite a number of suspects.”

“Why we have to get crackin’ on this. I’ll go door-to-door if I have to. Justice demands it. This community demands it. If I don’t get to the bottom of this, others will try their own methods. This is a public safety issue.”

Solomon took the envelope of photographs from Macklin, who was notably quiet. Solomon pulled out photos of four hanged black men. “You go door-to-door for these ones?”

Sheriff Ingalls looked at the photographs like Solomon was trying to pass him counterfeit money.

Solomon said, “Five lynchings in the past year. Four African Americans, none of them solved. One white man, now you want the county turned upside down.”