Page 57 of The Killing Plains

“No. Why?”

“He was last seen in a red ballcap.”

“Denny didn’t have no red caps.”

“It’s all on video,” Avery said, moving towards the closet. “Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.”

Jolene scowled. “What are you playin’ at? My boy’s the victim.”

“No one’s implying otherwise, Mrs. Hoyer.” Colly tapped the picture. “What did you think of his coach?”

Jolene shrugged. “Tom never screamed at the boys, like some of them coaches do. Used to take them for ice cream after the games.”

“Did you ever worry—”

“He ain’t no pervert, if that’s what you mean.” Jolene pulled the photograph from Colly’s hands, then stopped, distracted. “What are you doing?”

Avery had opened the closet door and was on her knees, rummaging through a pile of shoes. “Did Denny have foot problems, wear corrective inserts in his shoes, anything like that?”

“’Course not.”

Avery picked up a grubby sneaker and peered inside. “What about you and Jace?”

Jolene was growing agitated. “N-no. Now, put that down—I didn’t let you back here so you could go making insinuations and pawing through Denny’s things.”

“Avery, that’s enough,” Colly said.

To her relief, Avery rose without protest, dusting off her hands. “Mind if I wash?” she asked, and left the room before anyone answered.

“Sorry about that,” Colly said.

Jolene was still frowning, but the energy of her outburst had left her. She stared bleakly at the pile of shoes. “The Rangers were the same—tearing up the place, showing no respect.”

“We didn’t mean to offend.”

“Denny was a good boy.” Jolene sat down on the edge of the bed, still clutching the photograph.

Carmen turned to Colly. “My sister’s tired.”

“We won’t keep you much longer.” Colly’s phone chimed with a text. She switched it off without reading the message. “WhileI’m waiting for my partner, let me ask—did you notice anything unusual the day Denny disappeared? Sometimes people don’t mention critical details because they think they’re irrelevant.”

“I’ve thought about it a million times,” Jolene murmured. “It was a normal Friday.”

“Brenda told me Denny’s regular appointment was on Thursdays.” Colly shut the closet door. “Why’d you change it?”

Jolene looked up. “I didn’t. The clinic called, asked if we’d mind switching the schedule that week ’cause Brenda had a conflict.”

“Did that happen often?”

“A few times. I didn’t think nothin’ of it.”

She’d been picking up extra shifts on Friday afternoons that month, Jolene explained, working days as well as nights to cover for a fellow aide on maternity leave. That morning, she told Denny he’d have to ride his bike to his counseling appointment at noon and asked if he’d return some library books while he was out.

Jace and Denny had argued all week; so when Jolene got back from work shortly after seven the next morning and learned that Denny hadn’t been home, she wasn’t overly concerned. “I figured he was coolin’ off somewhere, probably at Tom’s.”

“Tom Gunnell?”

“He used to let Denny crash at his place when things got bad.”

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