Page 10 of The Killing Plains

“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—aSilence 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.”

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