Page 78 of The Killing Plains

“Carmen said there’s a key on a nail under the top step.”

The trailer, like the garage, showed signs of a hasty departure. Groceries were scattered on the floor just inside. A vomit-stained pillow and a knitted throw lay beside the couch; several prescription bottles and a nearly empty fifth of cheap vodka littered the coffee table nearby.

“Damn,” Colly murmured.

“Got a grape?” a tinny voice shrieked. From his perch in the corner, Fred the parrot cocked his head and bobbed excitedly.

“Poor guy’s alone,” Avery said.

“We’ll call Animal Control. Search here. I’ll check the bedrooms.”

“Get lost, dumb bitch!” Fred chortled as Colly started down the hall.

In the master bedroom, both the floor and the unmade bed were strewn with men’s clothes, footgear, and wire hangers. Colly picked up a boot and examined it, then opened the closet. Not much was inside. On a high shelf sat an empty handgun case.

When she returned to the living room, she found Avery inspecting a side-table drawer. On her shoulder, Fred was preening a strand of purple hair and mumbling, “Pretty feathers, pretty feathers.”

“New BFF?” Colly asked.

Avery looked up. “I gave him a saltine from the kitchen, and now he won’t leave. Anything in the bedroom?”

“Looks like Jace packed some clothes and a Glock 19. He wears a size-eight shoe.”

“I found this.” Avery handed her a slip of paper. “Receipt for a burner phone—purchased last April.”

Colly examined it. “Did Jace disclose this to the Rangers?”

“Nope.” Avery closed the drawer and stood. “No sign of the phone itself.”

“He must have it with him, wherever he is.” Colly moved towards the door.

Avery reached for the bird on her shoulder, but Fred squawked and lunged for her fingers.

Colly laughed. “He wants more quality time with your hair.”

In the end, they used a broom to force the parrot back onto his perch.

“Poor guy’s lonely,” Avery said.

When they emerged from the trailer, the drizzle had stopped, though a faint rumble in the distance indicated more rain on the way. Jimmy Meggs was leaning against his squad car, smoking a cigarette.

“You were supposed to watch our backs,” Avery snapped.

Meggs reddened. “Sorry, I was about to bust.”

“Never mind.” Colly handed him the evidence bag containing the white mesh object from the garage. “Any idea what this is?”

Meggs flicked the butt of his cigarette into the gravel and held the bag up to the light. “Mantle for a propane lantern.”

Colly and Avery exchanged looks. Colly reached for her phone.

“You at the hospital yet?” she asked when Russ answered.

“Almost.”

“Looks like Hoyer’s taken his camping gear—he may be roughing it. Ask Jolene and Carmen where he’d most likely go.” She hung up before Russ could reply.

“Have you checked the lease?” Jimmy asked. “Jace and some other guys from the plant went in on a hunting lease over in Coke County, on Whitebone Creek. I went out there with Toby Peterson once—bagged a ten-point buck.”

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