Page 47 of The Killing Plains

Russ stood. His mother reached for the paper, but he held it away.

“Evidence, Momma.” He went to Colly and turned the paper so she could see.

Scrawled across it in crude block letters were the words:1ST WARNING U MURDERING BITCH—GO HOME.

Chapter 14

Entering the garage, she smells it first—a sharp, raw tang, metallic and sickly sweet—even before she spots the trail of rusty droplets on the floor. The odor, both familiar and shocking, sets the blood roaring in her ears. She lowers the grocery bags to the ground and reaches for her gun.

Where is Satchel? He ran inside ahead of her, but as she enters the house, she hears nothing but the muffled strains of “Frosty the Snowman.” The kitchen is oddly dim, filled with a mist that grows thicker as she presses forward, until she finds that she is swimming through cold, turbid water. Ghostly shapes emerge like shipwrecks out of the gloom. Refrigerator. Stove. Table. As she drifts past, they melt back into darkness.

Nothing has any substance except the gun, which feels heavy and solid in her hand. She thinks it is moving of its own accord, pulling her deeper into the house. At the living room door, it stops. The metallic smell is stronger here. She tastes it in the back of her throat. A thing, unseen and horrible, waits in the water—a thing she doesn’t want to find but must search for, nevertheless. In the darkness, something slimy brushes her calf. Two shadowy forms rise slowly from the deep, wreathed in a haze of red. As she stares, they tilt up their faces, bloated and fish-belly white, and fix their hollow eyes on hers. Their mouths move soundlessly as they ascend...

“Oh God, oh God.” Colly lurched upright in bed, breathing hard. A faint gray light glimmered through the curtains. Something touched her shoulder. Satchel sat beside her, blinking sleepily. A smudge of dried blood had crusted on his lower lip where he’d chewed it during the night.

“You were screaming, Grandma.”

“Sorry. Bad dream.”

Colly pulled him onto her lap. The seat of his pajamas was damp.

“I had an accident.” He pressed his face into her chest.

“It’s okay, baby.” Colly closed her eyes and rubbed his back as she tried to shake off the lingering terror of the nightmare. It was months since she’d had the dream, which never varied and which had haunted her with a sickening persistence for over a year after Randy and Victoria’s deaths. In Houston, she’d burn off the emotional aftermath on her stationary bike—but that wasn’t an option here.Finish this case, and you can go home, she told herself. Perhaps solving it would banish the nightmares for good.

Opening her eyes, Colly glanced at the clock and groaned. She’d slept through her alarm—unsurprising, since it had been three a.m. when they’d finally climbed into bed. The discovery of the dead snake the night before had created a lengthy delay, necessitating a call to Earla Cobb. Arriving at midnight, frowsy-headed and wearing what appeared to be a pair of men’s pajamas beneath her coveralls, she crawled through Brenda’s van, examining it as best she could in the dark and bagging what bits of evidence she could find, but she held out little hope of fingerprints or DNA.

“Our perp’s a careful bastard.” She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “I don’t like this, Russ. Stinks of crazy.”

“How so?”

“What’s the best way to kill a rattler?”

“Chop its head off.”

“Exactly. Everyone in West Texas knows that. But this one’s spine’s been snapped like a pretzel stick.” She mimed the action with her hands. “Ain’t practical—or safe.”

“Think we’re looking for someone who’s not from around here?”

Earla scratched her ear. “Only a local could find this place. Anyhow, ain’t just the snake. There’s somethin’ about the whole scene. I think the SOB fantasized about this, down to the smallest detail. I’m gettin’ a real serial-killer vibe.”

Colly felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms as a quick, clear image flashed into her mind—the rabbit mask staring up at her with its demented, hollow eyes.

Russ turned to her. “What d’you think?”

“It does seem pointlessly elaborate. Almost stage-managed.”

Earla nodded. “This fella’s a couple sandwiches shy of a picnic, if you ask me.” She tapped her temple.

“Or wants us to think so,” Colly said.

Earla grunted absently. “I wanna reexamine everything in daylight. Got anyone who can keep the scene secure till morning?”

Colly looked at Russ. “What about Avery?”

He shook his head. “She’s too involved in the case.”

In the end, he called Jimmy Meggs, and it was almost two o’clock when the young officer arrived, bright-eyed but in dire need of a shave. Russ gave him detailed instructions and then drove Colly, Brenda, and the children back to Brenda’s house, where Colly’s car was parked.

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