Page 45 of The Killing Plains

Iris smiled and adjusted a tulip in the vase. “Yes, dear. Did you get Lowell sorted?”

Russ looked skeptical, but he nodded. “I left him in the guesthouse. He’s weepy now, sends his apologies. Brenda’s getting the kids ready to go. You’re riding back with her, Col?”

Colly nodded. “My car’s at her house.” She pushed past him without another word to Iris and was halfway down the hall before Russ caught up.

“Sounded intense back there,” he said. “You okay?”

“Your mother wants Satchel.”

“Nah, she just cares about him.”

Like Hitler cared about Poland, Colly thought as they entered the den.

Brenda was there, putting shoes on a groggy Logan. Her brief walk had apparently calmed her. “I couldn’t wake the other two. They’re out for the night, I’m afraid.”

“We got ’em.” Russ lifted Minnie in his arms.

Colly picked up Satchel and followed the others out to the gravel drive.

Brenda opened the minivan doors. “Great, my dome light’s on the fritz again.”

Groping blindly in the dark, they fastened the children into the back seat. Brenda slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

Outside the van, Colly turned to Russ. “What a day.”

His smile appeared tired in the muted light from the porch. “Didn’t chase you off?”

“Of course not. See you tomorrow.”

Russ leaned in and kissed her impulsively on the cheek. His scent and the roughness of his jaw against her skin reminded Colly so potently of Randy that she almost flinched.

She turned quickly and climbed into the van. Russ closed her door. As she pulled the seatbelt, several things happened. A shadow flashed in front of her, and a gust of air hit her face as something large and dark dropped from the ceiling. It brushed against her arm as it fell, landing heavily in her lap.

She shrieked, more startled than afraid.

Russ jerked the door open. “What is it?” he demanded as Brenda gasped, “What’sthat?”

“I don’t know. Something—”

In the darkness, Colly groped at the thing lying across her knees. It felt rubbery and cool, covered in a wet stickiness. Suddenly she screamed, loudly this time, and thrust the thing onto the floor before scrambling out of the van in a blind panic. Russ’s arms closed around her and pulled her away from the vehicle.

“I got you,” he was saying. “What’s wrong?”

Colly was dimly aware of her own ragged gasps as she wrestled away from him and ran towards the house. Stumbling up the porch steps, she collided with a rocking chair and fell, sprawling on the planking with the chair across her back.

Rushing up the steps behind her, Russ threw aside the chair and pulled her to her feet. “Colly, you okay?” He turned her to face him, and his eyes widened. “Oh, God.”

Colly looked down. The front of the blue dress was scarlet. Her extremities felt suddenly cold. “The kids—Russ, get the kids out of there.”

“Brenda’ll get them. Just stand still.” Breathing hard, Russ ran his hands over her shoulders and arms. “Where’s it coming from?” He was trying to stay calm, but his voice cracked.

Behind her, Colly heard the screen door fly open. “What’s going on?”

“Momma, bring me the first-aid kit,” Russ shouted. “And turn on the floodlights.”

The screen door banged shut. A second later, halogen lamps affixed to the eaves blazed on. In the harsh glare, Colly saw that the three children had woken up and were piling out of the van, while, behind its wheel, Brenda was struggling to disentangle herself from her seatbelt.

As her initial panic response subsided, Colly’s investigative instincts took over. “Kids, stay back,” she shouted as the children rushed towards the porch. Satchel’s face was white, his eyes fixed on her blood-soaked dress. He stopped and doubled over, vomiting on the ground.

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