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Driving through town, Colly tried to shake off the heaviness she felt. The visit with Brenda had left her depleted and a little depressed. Her sister-in-law frequently had that effect on her, though Colly wasn’t sure why. Their encounters were always friendly but exhausting, as if they were both trying too hard. Acting parts in a play. And Colly hadn’t slept well the night before. Satchel, refusing to stay in a separate bed in the unfamiliar house, had kept her awake with his thrashing and muttering. She’d dozed for a few minutes now and then, each time waking to find his hot, sweating little body pressed against her as if he were trying to burrow away from something horrible.

The night terrors had been better since he’d started counseling. Had bringing him to Crescent Bluff been a mistake? He’d looked so small and vulnerable walking through Mrs. Boyles’ classroom door, white-faced and clutching the straps of his backpack like a parachute. At least Brenda would be close by in case of trouble. She might be draining to talk to, but she was family.

Colly yawned and glanced at the dashboard clock. No time to hit up the Starbucks on the eastern outskirts of town. She’d have to make do with stationhouse swill.

The police station occupied the oldest building in Crescent Bluff, a nineteenth-century structure that locals still called the Old Courthouse, though it hadn’t served in that capacity since the 1950s. Built of rough-hewn limestone, it sat in a grove of mature live oaks at the west end of Market Street, a little apart from the shops.

Colly parked in the lot next to the station. As she got out of the car, a side door in the Courthouse opened, and a man in a policeman’s uniform and western boots trotted towards her, waving. Colly felt something twist painfully in her stomach.

Russ Newland was in his mid-forties, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with coarse, sandy hair and a weathered face. Colly had first met him six months into her relationship with Randy, when he came to Houston to visit his twin after finishing his first tour of duty in the Marines. She went with Randy to pick up his brother at the airport, and the three of them spent the evening drinking and dancing—not the club dancing she’d grown up with in New Jersey, but Texas “boot-scooting”—at a place called the Silver Spurs Dancehall and Saloon. Colly hadn’t known what she was doing and made an absolute fool of herself, but it was fun watching the two men kicking and twirling in their western boots and broad-brimmed Stetsons.

Physically, the brothers had been nearly indistinguishable, Russ being the slightly stockier and more heavily muscled of the two. But their personalities were quite different. While Randy was outgoing and affable, Russ was more reserved. Colly had liked him immediately.

His deep-set eyes were the same piercing blue that Randy’s had been. Now, as he approached, Colly found it painful to look at them.

“Saw you from the window,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

After a quick, awkward hug, they turned towards the station.

“Appreciate you coming out at such short notice, Col. Hope the farmhouse is okay.”

“It’s perfect, thanks.”

“Been empty since Wanda’s folks died. I sent Alice to clean it up, but you know teenagers.”

Wanda, Russ’s wife, had died of breast cancer a decade earlier, leaving him to raise their daughter alone. Colly found it odd that he’d never remarried.

“How old is Alice now? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen. Spitting image of her mother. Hard to look at her, sometimes.”

I know the feeling , Colly thought.

She followed him through the station’s side door, which opened into a small workroom. On a table beside the copier sat a box of sweaty-looking pastries and a dilapidated coffee maker.

“Want some?” Russ asked. “Costco’s finest, but it’s caffeinated.”

He poured her a cup and then led the way into an open office area, where an elderly receptionist and three uniformed officers sat at their desks—two men and a woman.

The woman caught Colly’s eye immediately. She was young—in her late twenties, Colly judged, though she looked younger. Thin and pale, with dark, heavy eyeliner and a purple streak dyed into her straight black hair, she seemed more like a rebellious teenager than a cop. A white birthmark ran down the right side of her face and neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She stared at Colly with sullen intensity.

Russ cleared his throat. “Listen up—most of y’all have met my sister-in-law before. You know she was a detective in Houston for years. She’s here at my request to review the Denny Knox case. I want you to give her every consideration.”

Silence hung in the room. The receptionist and the male officers nodded grudgingly. The pale young policewoman continued to glower.

“Let’s get to it,” Russ said. “C’mon, Parker, you’re with us.”

The young policewoman stood.

Russ led them down a hallway and through a door marked “Chief of Police.” His office was large, and cluttered with papers and files, the only personal touches a spindly cactus on the windowsill and a sun-faded photograph of Wanda pushing a four-year-old Alice on a swing.

Russ shut the door and sat at his desk, waving Colly to a nearby chair. The young patrolwoman planted herself on a stool in the corner.

“Hope you don’t mind Avery sitting in. I’ve asked her to assist with the review. I should stay out of it as much as I can, so it’ll be good for you to have someone who—”

“People don’t hate?”

Russ’s mouth twitched. “I was going to say ‘who knows the town.’ Avery grew up here, and she’s got a special interest in this one. Plus, she’s new and could use the experience.” He hesitated. “Having a cop along will help. I’m not sure about the legalities, you being retired and all.”

Colly glanced at the young woman. She looked anything but helpful, but it would be nice to have an insider’s perspective. Maybe she wasn’t as ill-humored as she appeared.

Colly turned back to Russ. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

He nodded. “I didn’t tell you much over the phone. I reckon you’ve got questions.”

“Tons.” Colly crossed her legs. “Mainly: why am I here? The Rangers closed the case. More to the point, you and I are both in the suspect’s family. Nothing we conclude will be admissible.”

“That’s definitely true in my case—but the Rangers respect you. A couple said they’d worked with you before. If you find something they missed, maybe they’ll reopen the case. They were so sure Willis was guilty that they wrapped things up and left town right after he died.”

“You don’t agree?”

Russ shrugged. “The Rangers know what they’re doing. But some folks thought the case deserved a second opinion.”

“Meaning Iris.”

“Been talking to Brenda, huh?” Russ grinned. “Momma encouraged me to call you, I’ll admit. But I told her no, at first.”

“Why?”

“Lot of reasons. I knew how much you wanted out of police work, after what happened in Houston.” His hand momentarily tightened on the arm of his chair. “And, to be honest, I thought the Rangers might be right about Willis.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Several things.” Russ picked up a file box from the floor beside him and set it on the desk. “How much do you remember about the Adam Parker case in ’98?”

“The one Willis went down for? Not a lot, except what was in the news. Victoria was a toddler, so I stayed with her in Houston during the court stuff, and Randy never liked talking about it. I remember Willis admitted killing that boy and later recanted.”

“That’s the gist, but there’s more to it.”

“How’s this relevant to the current case?”

“I’ll get to that.” Russ picked up a pencil and turned it in his fingers. “Adam was a troubled kid. Truancy, shoplifting. Nothing too serious, but you could tell there were problems at home. One night, he disappeared—and his house burned down the same night. His mother died in the fire, and his dad and little sister were badly injured.”

“Arson?”

“Definitely. Given his history, police figured he torched his own house and ran off—till a month later, when his body turned up at the stock pond.” Russ dropped the pencil and opened the file box. He pulled out an 8x10 photo, which he slid across the desk. “He’d been submerged for weeks. Scavengers had gotten to him, but ID wasn’t hard to confirm.”

Colly studied the photo—a twelve-year-old boy in rotting, mud-caked clothes lying on the grass, hands folded over a bloated sternum, empty eye sockets staring skyward.

From across the room, the young policewoman inhaled sharply. Her face was flushed, and the birthmark on her cheek and neck stood out in livid contrast.

“Want to see?” Colly gestured to an empty chair beside her.

Avery Parker shook her head and looked away.

“She’s seen it,” Russ said. “I briefed her on the case.”

If she’s this squeamish, she’s in the wrong line of work , Colly thought.

She turned back to the picture. “They ruled out accidental drowning?”

“He was strangled, weighed down with chains.”

“Found in the water?”

“No, that’s the thing.” Russ pointed to the photo.

Colly’s eyebrows rose. “They found him like this? He’s been posed.”

Russ nodded. “Cops thought the killer did it.”

“Why bother weighing down a body, then fishing it out again?”

“Remorse, maybe? It’s even possible someone else found him and pulled him out. That’s what Avery thinks.” He glanced at the young woman, who nodded.

“Then why not call the police? Why leave him for the scavengers?” Colly asked.

“Good question.”

Avery stirred. “People do things for lots of reasons. You never know.”

Colly laid down the photo. “Was Willis the first suspect?”

“First and only,” Russ said. “He was always hanging around that pond. A few months earlier, he got into trouble for spying on some kids swimming there. Plus, he had a history going back to his early teens.”

“Molesting that little boy? Randy told me.”

“The Carroway kid. Not a kid anymore. Runs his family’s farm now. Willis denied it, and Dad paid off the Carroways so they didn’t press charges. But everybody knew.” Russ grimaced. “Here’s what cinched it, though.”

He produced a package of blue nitrile gloves from a desk drawer, took two for himself, and tossed the package to Colly.

“What are these for?”

“Just put them on.”

He withdrew an evidence bag from the file box and slit the red sealing tape with a knife. When he tilted the bag, a strand of pale pink ribbon slid onto the desk, along with a curled scrap of gray-brown fur.

“What’s that, a dead gerbil?”

Russ smoothed the thing flat and pushed it towards her. “This was on Adam’s body.”

Colly gazed down at the furred object. “What the hell?” She picked it up and spread it on her palm, examining the long, tapered ears and delicate whiskers. Through the dime-sized holes where the eyes should have been, she could see her nitrile-covered hand. The thing seemed to be watching her with staring, bright blue eyes.

“Looks like someone just ripped the face off a rabbit.”

Russ met her eyes. “Yeah.”

“A hunter, maybe?”

He shook his head. “Turn it over.”

“It’s been tanned.”

“A hunter wouldn’t skin the head. Let alone tan it.”

“It’s like a miniature Halloween mask, only real.” Colly shuddered. “Where was it, exactly?”

“Tucked into Adam’s hand. Rolled and tied with that ribbon, like a little scroll. State Crime Lab said it hadn’t been submerged. It was put there later.”

Colly laid down the rabbit mask and picked up the pink ribbon, running it through her fingers. “Chiffon. Maybe off a little girl’s dress.”

“Or a doll’s,” Avery said. “I had one with ribbons like that.”

Colly regarded her thoughtfully, then turned back to Russ. “Why’d they think this pointed to Willis?”

A muscle twitched in Russ’s jaw. “He kept rabbits to feed that damn snake of his. Not even the same kind. Willis’s were domesticated. But that’s a wild rabbit—some kind of hare, they said. Investigators thought it pointed to a fetish—a Silence of the Lambs , serial-killer type deal. Willis was a sex offender with mental problems. He liked to hang around the pond, and he kept rabbits. They figured where there’s smoke, there’s fire, I reckon.” Russ rested his elbows on the desk. “Willis denied everything at first, but he failed a polygraph, so they kept after him. There wasn’t any hard evidence. But once he confessed ... ”

“That was enough?”

“Basically. Later, he pled innocent, said he’d been bullied into confessing. But no one believed that, except Momma. She got him an expensive attorney who had doctors do a brain scan. They said Willis had an abnormality that could prevent him from controlling impulsive, violent behavior. The lawyer argued for sending him to a state hospital, but you know juries.” Russ picked up the rabbit’s mask and stared at it moodily. “They spared him the death penalty, at least.”

Colly leaned back in her chair, frowning. “But what’s this got to do with Denny Knox?”

“The cases are linked, and there’s too much that doesn’t add up. Avery convinced me.”

“Really?” Colly looked again at the young policewoman. Why on earth would Russ trust the judgment of a kid like that? She was probably fresh out of the academy.

Colly forced a smile. “Russ mentioned you have a special interest in this case?”

“Adam Parker was my brother,” Avery said almost fiercely. “I know in my gut Willis didn’t kill him. It’s why I’m a cop.”

Colly stared, her face growing hot. She’d seen it before—victims’ family members pushing for further investigation, refusing to accept police findings. To admit a case was over meant recognizing the finality of loss. The hollow inadequacy of justice. It meant letting go. Colly understood the impulse, having experienced it herself. But the notion that her life had been disrupted—her guilt over Victoria’s and Randy’s deaths leveraged—on false pretenses was infuriating.

Oh God, Russ isn’t sleeping with her, is he? She’s not much older than Alice , Colly thought. If he dragged me out here just to please his booty call, I’ll kill him .

Russ seemed to read her thoughts. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think Avery’s onto something.” He leaned forward. “If Willis didn’t kill Adam, he didn’t kill Denny Knox, either. The same person murdered both boys, and whoever did it is still out there.”

The room was silent. Colly swallowed the last mouthful of coffee and set down the cup. “I hate to be the wet blanket, Russ, but that’s two gigantic logical leaps. Other than Avery’s gut, where’s your evidence Willis didn’t kill Adam? And how do you know the same person committed both murders? You’re not going on the fact that both bodies were dumped at the pond, are you? Everyone in West Texas knew the details of Adam’s case—it was all over the news.”

Russ peeled off his gloves. “I’d agree, if it weren’t for this.”

From his desk, he pulled a thick file folder labeled “Dennis Knox.” Rifling through its contents, he handed Colly a photo.

It was a close-up of the rabbit mask on a translucent plastic sheet, staring up at her with dead white eyes.

Colly looked up. “So?”

“It’s not the same one. That was on Denny, not Adam. Avery took that picture last September, the day we found the body.”

He handed Colly a second photograph, this time of a ginger-haired boy, naked, curled tightly on his side, his eyes closed. His pale skin glowed against the hoof-pocked mud on which he lay. He looked asleep.

Russ pointed to one of the boy’s cupped hands. “It’s there, rolled and tied. Just like Adam’s. See the pink ribbon sticking out?”

Colly whistled. Laying the two photos side by side, she inspected them. “Creepy, but it doesn’t rule out a copycat.”

“Yeah, it does. Back in ’98, the cops never released this detail.” He tapped on the first photo with his forefinger.

“You mean—?”

“Only the person who planted it on Adam would’ve known about the rabbit mask. Get it?” Avery said irritably.

Colly suppressed her annoyance at the girl’s tone. “That’s why the Rangers closed Denny’s case after Willis’s death?”

“Partly. But it gets worse.” Russ ran a hand roughly over his face. “We found a stash of rabbit masks in Willis’s cabin the night he died.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. The thing is, Momma alibis him, says Willis was with her the whole day Denny was killed.”

“You believe her?”

“Momma’s not much of a liar. If anything, she’s too honest. And the housekeeper backs her story. Rangers didn’t buy it, of course. Thought she was protecting her son. But if she’s telling the truth, then those masks were planted to frame him. The killer must’ve figured if Willis took the fall once, it’d work a second time.”

“You think this hypothetical killer murdered Willis, too?”

Russ sighed. “Willis’s death was ruled accidental. Rangers thought it was suicide, though, and I agree. Willis knew better than to hand-feed that snake from inside the cage. The Rangers figured he did it out of guilt. But I think he was just scared of being wrongfully convicted again.”

“Russ, you can’t exonerate someone on a rookie’s hunch and the word of the suspect’s mother.”

“That’s why I need the case review. Something’s not right, Col. Willis wasn’t smart enough to make those masks. And he wasn’t dumb enough to leave them in his nightstand. I don’t think he killed anyone. But someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like he did.” Pushing aside the papers on his desk, Russ leaned in and lowered his voice. “Momma wants to clear Willis’s name. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries. I think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. This has all the hallmarks—similar victim profile, same method of killing, tokens left to taunt the cops.”

“Serial killers escalate till they’re caught. They don’t go dormant for twenty years.”

“Some do,” Avery said quickly, dragging her stool towards the desk. “This is just like that BTK guy up in Kansas.”

Russ nodded, his eyes on Colly. “The town’s on edge. Folks are scared for their kids. To keep the rabbit masks a secret, the Rangers couldn’t explain why they closed the case after Willis died. Most people reckon they got it right. But a lot don’t. I’ve heard talk about forming a citizen posse, which would be a nightmare. There’s way more guns than people here. And if this killer strikes again...” He sat back heavily. “We’ve got to catch this guy.”

Colly nodded, and her gaze wandered to the window. On the station lawn, two gray squirrels, lean from winter and excited by the warm weather, were chasing each other around a tree trunk. They paused, tails flicking in alarm, then shot up into the live oak’s dark canopy as a UPS truck rumbled by.

Colly sighed and looked back at Russ. “Okay. Tell me about Denny Knox.”

Russ pulled a sheaf of papers from the folder in front of him, but before he could speak, they were interrupted by a knock. The door opened, and the elderly receptionist appeared. “Sorry to bother you, Chief. The team at the pond says they’ve found something.”

Russ’s look of irritation vanished. “Tell them we’re on our way.”