Page 99 of The Killing Plains

Her mother-in-law greeted her cheerfully. Where was Russ? What did Colly think of the Rodeo grounds? How was the investigation going? When was Satchel coming back to the ranch for another visit? Colly and he must both come soon. What about tomorrow evening? It was Lowell’s weekend to have Logan and Minnie. He’d be helping with opening night at the Rattlesnake Rodeo, and Iris had promised to babysit. Alice would be there, as well. They could grill burgers and then all take the children to the Rodeo.

Colly hedged, murmuring something about a possible dinner with Brenda and her friend.

Iris’s face lit up. She clapped her gloved hands. “I’ll babysit Satchel. No, no, I insist. He can spend the night.”

Over Iris’s shoulder, Colly spotted Russ walking slowly up the barn path. His shoulders sagged and his eyes were on the ground. Hastily, she thanked her mother-in-law and hurried to her car.

A few minutes later, she was speeding south on the Old Ranch Way when her phone rang. It was Avery. She’d finished canvassing the farmers on Salton Road and had turned up some curious bits of information, but she wasn’t sure of their significance. Did Colly want to meet at the police station to debrief?

Colly hesitated. Lunchtime was long past, and she smelled like horse. “How about the farmhouse? Have you eaten? We can have a sandwich while we talk.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Avery said.

When Colly reached the house, Avery was leaning against the squad car smoking a cigarette. Colly pulled into the carport, and Avery joined her there.

“Get anything good at the turbine plant?” she asked as Colly emerged from the car.

“I wouldn’t saygood. Definitely interesting.” Colly rummaged in her purse for the house key as she climbed the short flight of steps to the side door. “Come on in. Let me wash up before—”

Something crunched beneath her boots, and she froze. The door stood slightly ajar. A small windowpane near the doorknob had been broken out, and glass shards littered the steps. Colly turned and laid a finger on her lips. Avery nodded, and they drew their sidearms. Colly handed her the house key and motioned towards the front door. Avery nodded again and slipped noiselessly out of the carport.

Using her elbow, Colly pushed gently on the door. It swung open with a nerve-racking squeak. She stepped carefully over the broken glass into the kitchen. The tumblers used as last night’s wine glasses still sat by the sink beside a partial bowl of soggy Cheerios, the remnants of Satchel’s breakfast. Other than a couple of faint muddy boot prints on the linoleum, the room appeared undisturbed.

Colly cleared the pantry and checked the dining room. She found Avery in the foyer, gripping her gun. In front of her stood three suitcases, lined up by size like a row of nesting dolls. They were Colly’s. When she’d left the house that morning, they’d been lying half-unpacked on the bedroom floor upstairs.

Colly’s skin crawled, but there was no time now to wonder or to process. She did a quick sweep of the living room, then led the way up the stairs. The women split up. Colly checked the bathroom and the bedroom designated for Satchel, though he’d never slept in it, while Avery checked the master bedroom.

“All clear,” Avery called, her voice unnaturally loud in the stillness. “Come look at this.”

Holstering her gun, Colly hurried up the hall and stopped short in the bedroom doorway. She was not a morning person. It was usually all she could do to get herself and Satchel washed, dressed, and out the door. When she’d left the room that morning, there’d been a heap of towels and discarded clothing piled on an armchair by the window. Satchel had wet the bed again during the night, and Colly had stripped the sheets and dumped them in a corner to be dealt with later.

Now, the bed was made, and the clothes on the chair had vanished. The room was immaculate except for a small pile of debris on the bed—some type of granulated material mixed with shards of transparent plastic or glass. A claw hammer sat on the nightstand nearby. The identity of the shattered object didn’t register with Colly until she noticed ants crawling on the comforter.

For a long time, she stared numbly at the pathetic little heap of wreckage. Then, her emotions caught up, and she felt herself shaking with rage. For several minutes, she paced the room, venting her indignation in a long stream of profanity.

“What thehell?” she realized she was spluttering over and over. She wanted to hit something. Without thinking, she reached for the hammer, but Avery stopped her.

“Better not touch anything. Russ’ll want to get Earla out here. Come on, let’s go.”

Colly clenched her fists and nodded. Following Avery outside, she leaned wearily against the squad car. The initial burst of rage had dissipated, and a deep sense of violation was setting in. There was something appallingly calculated about the scene. The prim neatness of the packed suitcases and tidied bedroom—juxtaposed with the frenzied annihilation of the ant farm—suggested a kind of horrible lunacy. And yet that felt wrong, somehow.

She became aware that Avery was speaking.

“Shouldn’t we call Russ?”

Pushing emotion aside, Colly checked the time: three-thirty. She was in no mood to see or speak with Russ right now, but it couldn’t be helped. He might be recused from police work, but he couldn’t be cut out of the loop on this. He owned the farmhouse.

She dialed, and he picked up immediately.

When she told him what had happened, his voice was grim. “Hang tight, I’ll be there soon.”

Colly started to dial Brenda next, then remembered she was in the middle of a session with Satchel. Instead, she texted:Call when you can.

“Think Denny’s killer did this?” Avery asked. Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed with excitement.

How simple life was for the young, Colly thought. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d had the luxury of such single-minded eagerness untainted by the angst of responsibility. There was something to be said for the unattached life in police work.

“I think it’s the same person who rigged the snake and texted the anonymous threat.”

---