Page 22 of The Killing Plains

An oil-streaked face appeared in the pit beneath a pickup truck.

“Hey, Tom,” Avery said.

The man’s eyes narrowed. He climbed out of the pit. “Hey, Avery. What’s this about?”

Colly sized him up. He was twenty-something, stringy and hollow-chested, with a mop of unkempt ginger hair and a long, hooked nose.

Colly nodded to Avery, who introduced her and explained the reason for their visit.

Gunnell pulled a grimy rag from the pocket of his coveralls and began to wipe his fingers one by one. “I don’t know nothin’ more than what I told the Rangers.”

“Let’s hear it again,” Colly said. “You saw Denny ride by that day on his bike?”

The man hesitated, then shrugged. “He passed here just after lunch. About one-fifteen, one-twenty.”

“Show us.”

Gunnell stuffed the rag back into his pocket. “Show you what?”

“Humor me.” Colly turned and walked through the open bay door towards the road. The others followed. “You were standing where?”

Gunnell glanced around, then down at his feet. “Around here, I guess. I was fixin’ to pull this little Honda into the garage when I saw Denny comin’ up the Ranch Way. He was still a good ways off.”

“Then how’d you know it was him?” Avery asked.

“Recognized the bike.” Gunnell pulled a tin of chewing tobacco from his hip pocket. “He used to ride it to Little League practice.”

“Notice anything unusual?”

The mechanic tucked a wad of tobacco under his lip. “He was ridin’ fast. But I didn’t think nothin’ of it.”

“He didn’t wave or stop to say hello?” Colly asked.

“I hollered, but he kept his head down and sped by.”

“That didn’t seem strange? You were friends, right? His mom says he’d stay with you when things got bad at home.”

“Denny could be moody, especially after him and Jace got into it.”

“Jace Hoyer’s Denny’s stepfather,” Avery explained.

Gunnell spat a stream of brown juice onto the dirt. “Some father figure.”

“You had the impression Denny was upset?” Colly asked.

“Not so much at the time. But after I heard what happened, I did wonder.”

Colly gazed up the road. It stretched out, long and straight, to the horizon, distorted and undulating in the heat waves rising off the blacktop. Anything on it would be visible for quite a distance on a clear day. “How long did you stand here watching him?”

“I didn’t. Why would I? After he passed, I pulled the Honda inside—owner’d hit a deer, banged up the radiator pretty good.” Gunnell paused, and his expression changed. “Come to think of it, I did look for him again.”

“When?”

“After I got the car in, I noticed I dropped my rag, so I stepped out to get it. I glanced up the road, but Denny was already out of sight.”

Colly frowned. Other than a few scraggly mesquite trees and a fireworks stand a quarter-mile off, there was nothing to block the view. “Did it seem like he’d had enough time to ride that far?”

Gunnell scratched his jaw. “I did wonder if a car picked him up, or if he turned down the dirt road.”

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