Page 56 of The Killing Plains

The lines around Jolene’s eyes deepened. “Them boys thought ’cause their daddy’s on the town council they could call Denny ‘white trash’ to his face. What’d they expect?” She sighed. “The only place he fit in was the turbine plant.”

Colly sat back in surprise. “Really?”

“Jace was the foreman there, till a year ago,” Jolene said. She’d goaded him into taking Denny along a few times during school vacations, hoping it might improve their relationship. The workers were sweet to Denny, letting him do odd jobs and calling him “Little Man,” even taking him on a few installation runs.

“It was the first time he found something he was good at. He’d come home grinning, wanting to tell me all about it. He was crushed when Jace was let go.”

Jolene had been crushed as well, she admitted. She’d hoped her son might have a future with the company.

“Jace says he was fired for a technicality,” Colly said. “What was it?”

Jolene picked with her fingers at the blanket on her lap. “Lowell said he breached protocols bringing Denny to the factory. No warning, no two weeks’ notice. Denny’d been going up there for months and Lowell never said nothin’ before. I know he’s a relative of yours, but Lowell Newland’s a bastard, and that’s the truth.”

“Bastard!” Fred shrieked. “Tan your hide, you little bastard!”

Avery stirred. “When exactly did that happen?”

“Last March, just before the Rattlesnake Rodeo.”

“Denny torched the school bathroom the next week, right?”

“He was upset.” She looked at Colly. “You know what kids are like.”

Jolene had begged the authorities for lenience. As the school counselor, Brenda had also argued on Denny’s behalf, since noone was hurt and only minor damage was done to the school. Nevertheless, the district had pressed charges, and Denny was convicted of arson. Rather than sending him to a juvenile detention center, the judge paroled him on the condition that he receive therapy. But with Jace unemployed, the Hoyers couldn’t afford it. Brenda must have spoken to Dr. Shaw about the situation, because a few days later he called Jolene and offered the clinic’s services to Denny, pro bono—if she’d allow him to conduct certain tests and use the data in his research.

“He’s writing a book about troubled kids,” Jolene explained. “He said Denny fit the profile.” She pressed her lips together. Her eyelids drooped. Carmen stood and seemed prepared to end the interview.

“That’s helpful, thanks,” Colly said. “Can we see Denny’s room before we go?”

Carmen frowned. Jolene opened her eyes. “Okay, but it’s nearly packed up.”

Clutching her sister’s arm for support, she led the way down the hall to a cramped bedroom cluttered with items of clothing, books, and toys, some packed into boxes and plastic bags, others sorted into piles on the floor. Blobs of blue sticky-tack pocked the walls where posters had once been.

Jolene hung back in the doorway. “Folks said it’d be comforting to keep his room like he left it. But I hate that idea. Makes it seem like he’s coming back. I thought if it was something different—a sewing room, maybe.” Her face was bleak.

Colly moved gingerly through the room, looking but touching little. Detective or not, it felt disrespectful to root through a dead child’s belongings while his mother and aunt looked on. Avery, who appeared to have no such qualms, began opening boxes and bags without waiting for permission. Jolene watched, chewing her cuticles.

On a bookcase next to an empty fish tank sat a colorful heap of plastic cigarette lighters. Jolene saw Colly looking at them, and reddened. “I found those under his bed. Denny’d steal mine. Don’t know why.”

“He liked playing with fire?”

“Since he was little. Nearly burned the house down a couple times—not on purpose, just messing around. Had burn scars all over his fingers.” Jolene hesitated. “It worried Brenda.”

Colly’s chest felt tight. “How so?”

“She didn’t say. But when I told her about the lighters, she asked if he ever wet the bed. Seemed like a funny question.”

“They’re both symptoms of juvenile psychopathy,” Avery said bluntly. She was digging through a cardboard box on the dresser. “So’s cruelty to animals. Jace said Denny liked to blow up frogs—maybe Brenda was concerned.”

Jolene looked horrified. She covered her mouth.

“Do you have a psychology degree I don’t know about?” Colly snapped. “And go easy with those things. We’re guests here.”

Flushing, Avery pulled a framed 8x10 photograph from the box and studied it before handing it to Colly.

It was a team photo—rows of boys in front of a dugout. All were dressed in blue caps and jerseys embossed with a cartoonish demon brandishing a baseball bat. Denny stood squinting into the sun beside Tom Gunnell, whose arm was draped over the boy’s shoulders.

“The Blue Devils.” Colly turned to Jolene. “Did he ever play on a team with a red uniform?”

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