Page 9 of The Killing Plains

Colly turned back to Russ. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

He nodded. “I didn’t tell you much over the phone. I reckon you’ve got questions.”

“Tons.” Colly crossed her legs. “Mainly:why am I here?The Rangers closed the case. More to the point, you and I are both in the suspect’s family. Nothing we conclude will be admissible.”

“That’s definitely true in my case—but the Rangers respect you. A couple said they’d worked with you before. If you find something they missed, maybe they’ll reopen the case. They were so sure Willis was guilty that they wrapped things up and left town right after he died.”

“You don’t agree?”

Russ shrugged. “The Rangers know what they’re doing. But some folks thought the case deserved a second opinion.”

“Meaning Iris.”

“Been talking to Brenda, huh?” Russ grinned. “Momma encouraged me to call you, I’ll admit. But I told her no, at first.”

“Why?”

“Lot of reasons. I knew how much you wanted out of police work, after what happened in Houston.” His hand momentarily tightened on the arm of his chair. “And, to be honest, I thought the Rangers might be right about Willis.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Several things.” Russ picked up a file box from the floor beside him and set it on the desk. “How much do you remember about the Adam Parker case in ’98?”

“The one Willis went down for? Not a lot, except what was in the news. Victoria was a toddler, so I stayed with her in Houston during the court stuff, and Randy never liked talking about it. I remember Willis admitted killing that boy and later recanted.”

“That’s the gist, but there’s more to it.”

“How’s this relevant to the current case?”

“I’ll get to that.” Russ picked up a pencil and turned it in his fingers. “Adam was a troubled kid. Truancy, shoplifting. Nothing too serious, but you could tell there were problems at home. One night, he disappeared—and his house burned down the same night. His mother died in the fire, and his dad and little sister were badly injured.”

“Arson?”

“Definitely. Given his history, police figured he torched his own house and ran off—till a month later, when his body turned up at the stock pond.” Russ dropped the pencil and opened the file box. He pulled out an 8x10 photo, which he slid across the desk.“He’d been submerged for weeks. Scavengers had gotten to him, but ID wasn’t hard to confirm.”

Colly studied the photo—a twelve-year-old boy in rotting, mud-caked clothes lying on the grass, hands folded over a bloated sternum, empty eye sockets staring skyward.

From across the room, the young policewoman inhaled sharply. Her face was flushed, and the birthmark on her cheek and neck stood out in livid contrast.

“Want to see?” Colly gestured to an empty chair beside her.

Avery Parker shook her head and looked away.

“She’s seen it,” Russ said. “I briefed her on the case.”

If she’s this squeamish, she’s in the wrong line of work,Colly thought.

She turned back to the picture. “They ruled out accidental drowning?”

“He was strangled, weighed down with chains.”

“Found in the water?”

“No, that’s the thing.” Russ pointed to the photo.

Colly’s eyebrows rose. “They found him like this? He’s been posed.”

Russ nodded. “Cops thought the killer did it.”

---