Page 113 of The Killing Plains

“What did I tell you?” Brenda said. “And to think Lowell used to gripe about my teeny little scrapbooking closet.”

“How long have you been collecting this stuff?” Colly asked.

Niall leaned against the workbench. “I started as a kid. Fly-fishing’s huge in Montana. But most Texas rivers are too hot for trout. After my mom and I moved here, I used to get so homesick that I’d cast a line in every piddly little pond within biking range, even though there’s nothing in them but bluegill and turtles.”

Colly had wandered across the room and was examining a framed photo of an eleven- or twelve-year-old Niall standing knee-deep in water and holding up an enormous fish.

“Sounds like you still miss Montana.”

“I go up there to fish a couple times a year.”

“Why didn’t you open your practice there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Niall was quiet. Colly turned. He was watching her, an odd expression on his face. “My standard answer—there aren’t enough mental-health services in this area. I wanted to help. But if I’m being totally honest, I’m partly here to do penance.”

Colly waited, thinking of what Avery had said about him the previous night. “Penance for what?” she asked bluntly when he volunteered nothing more.

“It’s no deep, dark secret. Just garden-variety regret.” He gave her a sad smile and picked up a hook-shaped tool from the workbench, turning it in his fingers. “Did I tell you I knew Adam Parker? He used to follow me around. I wasn’t always very nice to him. After he died, I felt bad about that—especially when I got old enough to realize he was just looking for a role model. I can’t help thinking that if I’d been a better friend, he might still be alive. His sister thinks so. I’ve apologized, but she’s never forgiven me.” Niall tapped the hook thoughtfully against his palm. “Adam’s the reason I got interested in psychology. I sat through every minute of Willis Newland’s trial, wanting to understand why someone would do what he did. His trial was one of the first in the country to use brain-scan evidence as a defense. They showed his PET scan in court—it looked exactly like the ones in my kitchen. I was fascinated.” He tossed the tool on the workbench.

Colly glanced at Brenda, who was regarding Niall intently from her seat on the rolling gear box. “You were here back then, too, weren’t you, Bren?” she asked.

Brenda jumped. “I—I was a high-school senior. I didn’t know Adam, but his death made a huge impression.”

“What do you—?” Colly was interrupted by a vibration in her pocket. She checked her phone. “It’s Iris.”

Iris did all of the talking. Colly listened, then said, “We’re on our way.” She hung up with a sigh.

“Are the kids okay?” Brenda demanded.

Colly felt suddenly very tired. She set the phone on the shelf beside her and rubbed her eyes. “They had a fight or something. Iris tried to explain, but there was a lot of yelling and crying in the background. She sounds frazzled.”

They returned to the house for their purses, and Niall walked them back up the path to their car.

“Sorry to miss your crème brûlée.” Brenda kissed him on the cheek.

“Gives us an excuse to do this again.” Niall turned to Colly and extended his hand. “I hope everything’s okay with the kids. Let me know if there’s anything I can do—anything at all.” In the moonlight, Colly had the impression that he was observing her closely. They shook, and he waited politely while she got into the car and put on her seatbelt before he closed her door.

As they drove away, Colly glanced in the side mirror. Niall was standing silhouetted against the stars, watching their taillights recede into the night.

Chapter 31

It was past ten o’clock when Colly and Brenda drove up the juniper-lined drive and parked in front of the ranch house. Lights shone in most of the ground-floor windows, though the upper story was dark. Expecting to walk into chaos, Colly was surprised when Iris answered the door seemingly at ease in a rose-colored dressing gown and slippers.

“The children finally settled down.” She led them to the den, where the stoic housekeeper was gathering playthings into a laundry basket. “I tried calling to tell you, but both your phones went to voicemail.”

“What happened?” Brenda demanded. “The kids usually get along great.”

A shadow crossed Iris’s face. She turned to the housekeeper. “Nadine, where did you put it?”

“Garage, ma’am.”

“Bring it in, please.”

The housekeeper set down the basket and limped from the room, returning with a cardboard shoebox, which she laid on the coffee table.

Without waiting for Iris’s explanation, Brenda seized it and opened the lid.

“Oh, no.” She sank onto the sofa and held out the box to Colly.

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