Page 122 of The Killing Plains

Colly looked at him. A trace of bitter watchfulness still lingered in his eyes, but his expression was open, ingenuous. If he was a liar, he was an extraordinarily talented one.

“Let’s go back to the house.” She handed him his phone and other belongings. “Avery’ll be here any minute.” She started towards the door but stopped at the threshold. “Look, I’m sorry. This investigation’s got my nerves on edge. I thought you were the killer.”

“I know.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Maybe it should be,” he said flatly. “I like you, Colly. I like you a lot. But it’s demoralizing, always having to revise my expectations downward.”

Colly said nothing. As she stepped outside, her eyes were momentarily dazzled by the bright morning sunlight, and she ran into the dark form before she saw it. She reached for her gun, but someone grabbed her hand.

“Relax, it’s me.”

As Colly’s eyes adjusted, she saw that Avery was standing, weapon drawn, beside the doorway.

“I got here a few minutes ago—in time to hear this sonofabitch admit to leaving my brother out for buzzard bait.” She stared darkly at Niall, who was emerging from the shed. “You were getting good info, so I didn’t interrupt.”

“If you heard that, then you heard why I did it,” Niall said.

“They ate his eyes out, you asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You—” Avery started, but Colly laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Now’s not the time. Let’s stay focused.”

They said goodbye to Niall at the house, and as they climbed the path to their cars, Colly summarized the parts of the storythat Avery had missed. Her derisive snorts and mutterings showed plainly that she was skeptical of Niall’s account, but she didn’t argue.

“Any update on that video footage?” Colly asked.

“Nothing useful. I haven’t found anyone matching the descriptions the store clerk gave Russ,” Avery said. Some of the cameras had captured the road, and four vehicles showed up repeatedly between Crescent Bluff and Colorado City—a dark green or possibly blue minivan; a diesel pickup pulling a cattle trailer; a black SUV; and a very dirty Jeep of indeterminate color—but Avery hadn’t seen the drivers or gotten any license plates. All the videos were too fuzzy and distant.

Colly sighed. “It was a long shot, but it had to be checked.”

They reached the top of the hill and leaned against the cruiser to catch their breath. The sun was still shining brightly above their heads, but a line of clouds, towering and dark, loomed ominously to the west.

“That’s heading this way. Gonna put a damper on the Rodeo,” Avery said. “What now?”

Colly checked her watch. “Let’s go over Adam’s case file one more time. If we can make a list of everybody who knew about that first hare’s mask, we can try to track them down, see if anyone’ll admit to blabbing.”

“That was twenty years ago.”

“I know. But we’re out of leads.” Colly searched her purse for her sunglasses. “Go get yourself some lunch, first. I promised Satchel I’d try to swing by the Rodeo—” Suddenly, she stopped. “Tell me again about those vehicles on the video. Did any have distinguishing features?”

Avery replied. Then, seeing the expression on Colly’s face, she said, “What? What is it?”

Colly didn’t answer. She yanked her phone from her pocket and pulled up her list of contacts, fumbling and nearly dropping the device more than once. Finally, she found the number she was looking for and placed the call. When it was answered, she blurted without preamble, “You talk in your sleep, don’t you?”

She listened tensely to the reply.

“Oh my God.” Beneath her feet, the ground seemed to tilt. She dropped the phone.

Alarmed, Avery grabbed her shoulders, steadying her against the cruiser’s frame. “What is it?”

But Colly only shook her head.

Avery picked up Colly’s phone and held it to her ear. “Who the hell is this?”

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