Page 15 of The Killing Plains

“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 petfood 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.

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