Page 5

By the time they emerged from the station, the morning haze had burned off. The sky was now a clear, brassy blue that promised unseasonable heat.

“What team was she talking about?” Colly asked.

Russ settled his Stetson on his head. “The Rangers wanted to dredge the stock pond. But the judge is a golfing buddy of Lowell’s and wouldn’t give them a warrant, and Momma flat refused. I think she was scared they’d find something incriminating to Willis. I told her she’d have to agree to total cooperation if she wanted your help, though. I sent a couple guys out there this morning.” He handed Colly the Denny Knox file he was carrying. “You can skim this as we drive.”

He led the way to a dusty black SUV and opened the front passenger door for Colly. Avery, carrying an expensive-looking camera, climbed into the back seat.

As they headed north, Colly dug in her bag for her reading glasses and opened the file. The first document was a typed case summary. She picked it up.

“The Rangers wrote this?”

“Avery did. She’s been great on this case.” Russ winked into the rearview mirror.

Pretending not to see, Colly put on her glasses and read quickly.

The summary was succinct and well-written: thirteen-year-old Denny Knox had disappeared on a sunny Friday afternoon in early September. He had ridden his bicycle from his home to the Compass Counseling Center for his court-mandated therapy, arriving at noon. His therapist, Brenda Newland, reported that their session was uneventful and that Knox was in a good mood throughout. Both Newland and the office coordinator, Pearl Granley, saw the boy exit through the center’s front entrance shortly after one p.m., a fact confirmed by CCTV footage from a daycare across the street. Security cameras from several homes and businesses recorded Knox pedaling rapidly northwards through town. He was wearing jeans, a yellow t-shirt, and a red ballcap, and carrying an army-green canvas backpack. Tom Gunnell, a mechanic at Digby’s Automotive on the Old Ranch Way, reported seeing Knox ride past the shop around 1:20 p.m., going north towards Newland Ranch, though Digby’s had no cameras, and police could not independently confirm the account. Gunnell’s was the last known sighting of Knox, whose nude body was discovered beside the Newland Ranch stock pond at 6:30 the next morning. He appeared to have been strangled with some sort of ligature not found at the scene; his bicycle and clothing (minus ballcap and backpack) were located nearby. Ranch foreman Felix Arredondo discovered the corpse while checking on the cattle and called Chief of Police Ruston Newland to report the news.

Colly stopped reading and looked up. Like most West Texas towns, Crescent Bluff had no suburban perimeter. Its tight cluster of homes and shops thinned to a spotty fringe of junkyards, garages, and trailer parks, and then, abruptly, to rural landscape. They were already past the outskirts and speeding along a straight two-lane highway into open country.

“I didn’t know Brenda was Denny’s therapist.”

Russ nodded. “She works afternoons at the counseling center.”

Strange she didn’t mention it this morning , Colly thought . “Why was his therapy court-mandated?”

“He started a fire in a school bathroom last spring. District pressed charges. Denny was in trouble a lot. We arrested him for vandalism and petty theft several times.”

Colly tapped her pencil thoughtfully against the folder. “His folks didn’t report him missing the night before?”

“Avery, what did Jolene say about that?” Russ braked as they approached a dark, feathered lump in the road. An enormous turkey vulture looked up, then hoisted itself in the air to reveal the carcass of a white-tailed deer.

“Interview transcript’s in the folder.”

“Give me the gist,” Colly said.

Avery looked annoyed. “His mom said Denny ran off sometimes, after fights with his stepdad. He’d cool down at his Little League coach’s house and come back in a day or two. So she didn’t worry.”

Russ glanced at Colly. “Sounds neglectful, but Jolene’s had her hands full with him. Plus, her husband’s been out of work for months, and their relationship’s stormy. We’ve been called out on several domestics, but she won’t press charges.”

“Who’s the coach?”

“Tom Gunnell—mechanic at Digby’s Automotive.”

Colly rifled through the papers in her lap. “The last person to see Denny alive?”

“Yeah, I don’t trust coincidences, either, but this one seems legit. Rangers looked at him hard, but the receptionist at Digby’s backed up his story, and he passed a polygraph.”

“Maybe so. But he’s definitely someone I want to talk to.”

A few minutes later, Russ turned onto a gravel road. After crossing a cattle guard and passing beneath a wrought-iron arch that read “Newland Ranch,” the road curved north, but Russ followed a rough dirt track that snaked away south. They bumped and lurched through the scrubland, gravel pinging against the metal floorboards, until finally rounding the shoulder of a hill into an open space, where a squad car was parked beside a weathered fencepost hung with a “No Trespassing” sign.

Russ turned off the ignition. “Let’s go.”

Colly and Avery followed him single-file past the sign and along a narrow cow path. The day was growing warm. Startled grasshoppers leaped around them as they pushed through the sagebrush and stunted cedar. Colly was glad she’d worn jeans and hiking boots.

They emerged from the scrub near a stock pond ringed with cottonwoods. Two officers, sweaty and red-faced, were resting a few yards from the waterside. They had spread out a plastic tarp, on which a metal supply kit sat beside a wet, greenish lump.

The officers clambered to their feet. The taller—a lanky, acne-scarred youth—waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, Chief, look what we got.”

The other officer, older and more dignified, mopped his face with a red bandana. “We ain’t opened it yet. Figured you’d wanna do that. Jimmy found it,” he added generously.

“Good work.” Russ leaned over the object for a closer look. Colly joined him.

“It’s a backpack,” Jimmy, the younger officer, said.

The older one swatted irritably at a pair of blackflies. “They got eyes, Meggs.”

“Get some shots of this, Avery,” Russ said.

Avery circled the tarp, taking pictures from every angle. “Army-green canvas. Could be Denny’s. It wasn’t with the other stuff.”

Colly looked up. “Other stuff?”

“Denny’s clothes were under that tree, perfectly folded. Except for the red baseball cap. We never found that. His bike was over there.” Russ pointed.

“The clothes were folded? Interesting.”

“Think there’ll be DNA?” Jimmy asked.

Colly frowned. “Doubtful. Looks like it’s been submerged a while.”

Russ bent closer and sniffed. “Smells like it, too.” He picked up a stick and poked gently at the backpack. “Something’s inside. Gibbins, hand us some gloves and evidence bags.”

“A forensics lab should open it,” Colly said.

Russ shook his head. “That’ll mean calling the Rangers back in. They’ll cut us out of the loop. I want to see what’s in here.” He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves. Handing some to Colly, he squatted on the tarp.

“Why drag me here from Houston if you won’t listen?” Colly muttered, kneeling beside him.

Russ didn’t hear, or pretended not to. “Avery, keep shooting,” he said, and he began to unzip the pack.

The zipper was badly corroded. After several minutes of coaxing and cursing, he dropped the bag and sat back on his heels. “That’s only a couple inches, but it won’t go any further without some WD-40.”

“You could cut it,” Jimmy said eagerly. “I got a Bowie knife.”

Gibbins, the older cop, glared at him. “He ain’t doin’ that, you dimwit.”

Russ ignored them both. “You’ve got smaller hands, Col. Try reaching in.”

Colly hesitated. “Are there—?”

“Cottonmouths are the only dangerous water snakes around here, and they stay on the surface.”

“Okay. But I won’t force anything.”

With the sound of Avery’s camera shutter in her ears, Colly wriggled one hand through the opening and cautiously groped around. “There’s a couple hardcover books. Pages are mush, but the covers feel intact.” She explored further. “I’ve got something stiff and leathery. Baseball glove, maybe.”

“Denny played Little League,” Jimmy said. “My cousin Tom’s his coach.”

“Anything you can pull out?” Russ asked.

Avery looked up from her camera. “Little stuff’ll be at the bottom.”

Colly reached deeper and her fingers closed on something hard. She pulled it through the opening. A Swiss Army knife.

Russ handed her a bag. “We’ll find out if it’s Denny’s.”

Another search produced a camo-colored wallet and a fob with what looked like the key to a bike lock.

Colly gave the wallet to Russ, who opened the Velcro flap. “Bingo. School ID for ‘Dennis G. Knox.’ Plus, six bucks, cash. Robbery wasn’t the motive, then. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” Colly did a final check. “Hold on.”

She pulled out a small, rubbery object. It was horseshoe-shaped and made of blue silicone.

“What the hell’s that?” Russ demanded.

Colly turned it in her fingers. “No clue.”

“Parker?”

Avery hunched her shoulders. “Looks medical. Some kind of mouth guard?”

“Gibbins, Meggs, take a look.” Russ waved the officers closer.

“That’s a shoe insert,” Gibbins said immediately. “Got some like ’em for my plantar fasciitis. That one’s smaller than mine.”

Russ pushed up the brim of his Stetson. “Weird thing for a kid to carry.”

Colly dropped the object into an evidence bag. “Did Denny have foot problems?”

“We can ask Jolene,” Avery said.

The sun was now high, the mud around the shoreline beginning to crack in the unseasonable heat. Two piebald longhorns had come to the far side of the pond to drink. As Colly stood, they raised their heads to watch her, water dripping from their muzzles.

Colly peeled off her gloves. “Okay, Russ, walk me through the scene.”

After sending Meggs and Gibbins back to town with the evidence, Russ led Colly to a spot near the edge of the water.

“Denny’s body was here. Felix found it just after dawn. Said he didn’t go near it.”

“Think that’s true?”

Russ nodded. “You could tell by his footprints.”

There had been a clear set of prints around the body, though—presumably the killer’s—made by a pair of men’s rubber boots or waders, size ten.

“What size was Willis?”

“Ten.” Russ rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So are Lowell and me, for what it’s worth. It’s a common size.”

“Any barefoot?”

“Nope. Bottoms of Denny’s feet were clean, too. There was a set of tracks, like a hand truck’s, from the cow path down to the waterside. Rangers figured Willis killed him elsewhere and wheeled him here, but they couldn’t find any hand trucks on the ranch that matched.”

“Smooth tracks, or treaded?”

“Smooth, I think.”

“Any pictures?”

“Avery’ll know.”

They looked around. The young woman had moved away and was sitting on a grassy rise beneath a cottonwood, hugging her knees and staring across the water.

Colly lowered her voice. “What’s her deal?”

“She’s okay. Let’s leave her be.”

Colly started to respond, then changed her mind. “Any idea when the body was dumped?”

“Some kids were out here smoking pot till midnight. It wasn’t here then.”

“So between midnight and six-thirty Saturday morning, when Felix found it?”

“Weird thing is, the ME said Denny died around the time he left Brenda’s—an hour after, tops.”

“Where was the body all that time?”

“If the Digby’s mechanic killed him, he could’ve stashed him at the garage. But Denny was drugged with Xanax, and we never found evidence that Tom Gunnell had access.” Russ met Colly’s eyes. “Willis did, though. Momma takes it.”

“Half of America takes it.” Colly sighed. “You said Iris alibis Willis for the time of death. What about when the body was dumped?”

“He was in his cabin, sleeping. But if he didn’t kill Denny, he didn’t dump him.”

Colly looked around. The two longhorns had finished drinking and were ambling away from the water, grazing on tufts of buffalo grass.

Russ removed his Stetson and fanned himself with the brim. “What are you thinking?”

“Whoever did this is organized, meticulous. Denny’s clothes were folded, you said. And it took time and skill to make those rabbit masks. They mean something.” She looked up. “You’ve checked into them as a lead, I guess?”

“The Rangers sent Denny’s to the crime lab but didn’t find much. Said it looked professionally tanned, for whatever that’s worth. We talked to every taxidermist between Midland and Dallas, but they all checked out.” He shrugged. “Avery researched ‘rabbit heads’ online—found a few weird foreign recipes. Plus, some high-end pet food suppliers that sell them as dog treats, believe it or not. City folks pay ten bucks a pop for them—fresh or dehydrated, skin on or off.”

“Why city folks?”

“Well, no one in West Texas would buy them, that’s for sure. Scrubland’s crawling with jackrabbits—you can get as many as you want for free. And our killer’s definitely a local. We’re on private property in the middle of nowhere.” He waved his arm. “This guy knows the area. Anyhow, our masks don’t come from any pet food place. They all use domesticated rabbits—we checked.”

Colly nodded, staring across the water. Then she asked, “Why did Felix call you directly when he found the body, Russ? The report said he called you, not 911.”

Russ stopped fanning. “His English isn’t great. I reckon he felt more comfortable with me.”

He’s not telling me everything , Colly thought. “I’d like to speak to him.”

Russ snapped his fingers. “That reminds me, I’m supposed to tell you—Momma wants to have everyone at Mollison for dinner tonight, sort of an unofficial welcome party for you and Satchel. We can hunt up Felix then. He’s usually around Willis’s cabin that time of day.”

Colly, who had been looking forward to a quiet evening at the farmhouse to unpack, inwardly groaned. But a dinner invitation from Iris Newland was more a summons than a request.

“Sounds good.”

Russ glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour. Anything else you want to see?” He made a sweeping gesture with his hat.

“Not now. Maybe after I’ve read the whole file.” Colly paused. “Where exactly was Adam’s body found in ’98?”

Russ lowered his voice. “Where Avery’s sitting—under that tree.”

Colly watched her for a moment. “I don’t know about having her help me with the review, Russ. She’s got a huge chip on her shoulder.”

“You would, too, if you’d had her luck.”

“Mine hasn’t been exactly stellar.”

“I’m just saying there’s reasons she’s rough around the edges. Apart from losing her mom and brother, her dad was mean as they come.”

“She’s got some problem with me, and I just met her.”

“Misguided loyalty, I expect.”

“She blames me for getting your brother killed?”

“If it turns into a problem, I’ll talk to her. She wants to be a big-city detective someday, but she needs experience.”

“I’m not here to be someone’s life coach.”

“But you’re going to need help. Avery’s smart, and she’s getting pretty good as a crime scene photographer.” He laid a hand on Colly’s shoulder. “Give her a chance, maybe reach out a little bit.”

Colly squinted up at him. “Russ, if there’s something going on between you and her, I need to know.”

Russ’s eyes widened, and he laughed. “She’s half my age, Col. I’m trying to help her make something of herself, that’s all.” He put on his hat. “I’m starved. Want to grab some gorditas on the way back? There’s a great food truck.”

His words sounded forced, Colly thought. But it was hard to say whether he was lying or simply embarrassed by her question.

She decided to let it go, for now. “Gorditas sound great. Then, I’d like to see that counseling center.”

“Sure thing. Avery’ll take you.”

As the three of them made the hot trek back up the cow path to the SUV, Colly, walking behind Avery, studied her closely. She seemed more subdued now, her thin shoulders slumped, staring at the ground as she walked. But the hand that gripped the camera’s strap was clenched, and her jaw was set in a hard, bitter line. As she climbed into the car, her uniform collar gaped, and in the full sunlight, Colly saw that the pale blotch on her face and neck was not a birthmark but the welted scar of a deep, long-healed burn.