Chapter 26
They rode back to the barn in silence. Leaving Russ to unsaddle the horses, Colly walked quickly towards her car, hoping to get away without being spotted. Nearing the house, she was dismayed to see Iris, in brightly colored garden gloves and a wide-brimmed sunhat, pruning the rose bushes by the porch.
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 say good . 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 the hell ?” 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.”
“Gotta be the killer, right?”
Colly’s head was throbbing. She rubbed her temples. “Probably.”
“Why smash an ant farm, though?”
Because threatening me directly didn’t work , Colly thought. God, I dread telling Satchel . “Who knows?” she said aloud.
“Bright side—this proves Hoyer’s not the guy. He’s in jail.”
Colly looked at her. “You’re right, that’s something.” She pulled herself together with effort. “Tell me about Salton Road.”
Avery eagerly recounted her morning’s work. None of the Salton Road farmers remembered seeing anything unusual Monday afternoon, when the baseball cap was taken, other than the police activity around the fireworks stand. There’d been no sightings of suspicious characters or unfamiliar vehicles in the vicinity.
“So that’s a wash, unless someone has a sudden brainstorm,” Avery said. But when she’d questioned them about the day Denny was killed, the results had been more intriguing. One farmer reported that he and his wife had seen an older woman heading south on Salton Road that afternoon.
Avery paused. “The lady was on foot, dressed up in church clothes and carrying a giant purse over her arm. Road dead-ends north of their house, so either they missed her when she came up from the south, or she cut across the fields from the direction of the fireworks stand. They figured she was a neighbor’s relative, since their dogs didn’t bark at her.”
“There’s no mention of this in the case file,” Colly said sharply.
“I know. They left for Colorado to visit their daughter a couple days after the murder, so the Rangers must’ve missed them in the canvass. By the time they came home, the investigation was focused on Willis.” Avery chewed her lip. “What do you think?”
“Denny was a big kid. I doubt an old woman could kill him.”
“Maybe she’s connected to the killer somehow. He might’ve dropped her there when he put Denny’s bike behind the fireworks stand.”
“Leaving her toddling through the pastures for anyone to spot?”
“Maybe they argued. Or maybe he didn’t want her seeing where he dumped the body.”
“Whoever she is, we need to talk to her. Let’s track her down if we can,” Colly said. “Anything else?”
Avery’s face clouded. “Nothing solid. But I got a weird vibe from Dave Carroway. He was evasive, practically slammed the door in my face.”
“He was never a suspect?”
Avery shook her head. “The Rangers checked him out because of his history with the Newlands. But his alibi was good.”
“Think he’s upset we’re looking into the case? Willis molested him when he was little—makes sense he wouldn’t want Willis’s name cleared.”
“Maybe.” Avery sounded unconvinced.
“We’ll let him stew a couple days and try again.”
Avery asked about Colly’s interview with Lowell at the plant. Colly told her the story and was wondering how much, if anything, to mention about the talk with Russ, when they heard tires on gravel. Russ’s SUV was coming up the drive. He parked behind the squad car and jumped out.
“Earla’s on her way. Y’all all right?” His question was inclusive, but he was looking at Colly.
“We’re fine,” she said. “Nothing stolen, as far as I can tell. Only the window and ant farm were damaged. But there’s something twisted about it.”
She described their search of the house. Russ was still asking questions when Earla arrived on her motorcycle, accompanied by Fat Boy in the sidecar. Colly and Avery were obliged to go over the story again while Earla unloaded her kit and donned coveralls, gloves, and shoe covers.
“Y’all wait here,” she said. “Stay, Fat Boy.” When she disappeared into the house carrying her evidence kit and camera, the dog flopped down on the porch with a groan.
The wait was awkward. Colly wanted nothing to do with Russ, but since she wasn’t prepared to explain the situation to Avery, she was forced to act like nothing was wrong. Russ tactfully asked no questions about the case, though the break-in at the house made it impossible to avoid the subject entirely.
It was nearly five o’clock when Brenda called. She’d been in session all afternoon and had just seen Colly’s text.
Colly was surprised. “You weren’t with Satchel that whole time, were you?”
Brenda lowered her voice. “I thought he could use it. He’s... struggling.”
Colly’s throat tightened. “Is he okay? He scared me last night, the way he acted.”
“Let’s talk later. Need me to bring him home?”
“I’m not sure what to do.” Quickly, Colly told her about the break-in, though she omitted most of the details.
“Oh God, that’s awful.”
“Can Satchel stay at your place tonight? I’ll bring his things later.”
“Absolutely. You’ll stay too, I hope?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let me talk to Satch.”
After what Brenda had said, Colly expected Satchel to sound upset. But he seemed happy when he took the phone, and he was thrilled at the prospect of spending the night with his cousins.
“Bring my ant farm when you come—I wanna show Logan and Minnie.”
Colly replied evasively and hung up, feeling both guilty and reassured.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon when Earla emerged from the house. She looked tired, her silvery braids frazzled.
“Almost done,” she said.
Russ stood up. “What did you find?”
“No suspicious fingerprints. But our pal Mr. Size Ten Boot’s been here. Break-in’s staged, too. Window’s smashed from the inside.”
“I locked up when I left this morning,” Colly said.
“A baby could pick that lock with a teething biscuit. Or maybe the perp had a key. Who’s got access?”
Russ scratched his head. “My in-laws lived here sixty years. God knows how many keys they handed out or lost. They kept a spare on a nail in the carport. Probably still there.”
“You never changed the locks after they died?”
Russ looked abashed. “I always meant to.”
Colly sighed. “This town’s a criminal’s paradise.”
Earla grunted in agreement. “Y’all come in a sec—I need input.”
They followed her inside. The three suitcases, still unopened, now lay prone on the foyer floor. Stepping around them, Earla led the way up the stairs into the master bedroom. Colly glanced around. The remnants of the ant farm had been bagged. Blankets, sheets, and mattress pad were peeled back, exposing the bare mattress.
“Are these the same sheets you took off the bed this morning?” Earla asked.
Colly nodded. “They were urine-soaked.”
“They’re clean, now. Perp must’ve washed ’em.” Earla rubbed her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. “I didn’t open the suitcases yet. Wanted you there for that.”
They followed her downstairs. Earla knelt and unzipped the largest case. The clothes lay in immaculate order—jeans, tops, socks, and panties carefully folded; bras nested in a neat stack.
“This look right?” Earla asked.
Colly flushed angrily. “It’s mine, but when I left the house this morning, half this stuff was in the hamper.”
“Christ Almighty,” Russ muttered.
The middle-sized case contained more of the same—Colly’s clothing, washed and meticulously repacked. The smallest was Satchel’s, and when Earla unzipped it, everyone froze. A folded sheet of white printer paper lay within, and beside that, on top of a stack of child-sized t-shirts, was a brown-gray swatch of fur the size of a human hand. Through its empty eyeholes, the red fabric of the topmost shirt was visible, giving the thing a glaring, demonic look.
“Oh, shit ,” Avery said.
No one else spoke. Colly was aware of the noise of blood rushing in her ears. Finally, Earla raised her camera and began to take photographs.
“You’ve got gloves on,” Russ said after a few minutes. “See if something’s written on that paper.”
Without a word, Earla set down her camera and gingerly unfolded the page, laying it on the open suitcase. On it was scrawled in rough block capitals: FINAL WARNING. IT’S HARD TO GET BLOOD OUT OF THE WASH.
Russ and Colly exchanged glances, and Avery cursed again. Earla picked up the camera.
An hour later, after documenting the scene, bagging the mask and note, and examining the other contents of the small suitcase, the forensics specialist stood with a groan, her knees cracking.
“I’ll be honest, Russ, I’m out of my league here. The DPS crime lab should take over.”
“No,” Russ said firmly. “The Rangers had their chance.” He shot Colly an embarrassed look. “But it’s your call.”
“I think I agree,” she said slowly. “We’re not going to solve the case through forensics. This break-in’s the act of someone who’s either terrified or cocky. He’s taking stupider and stupider risks, which is good for us. Bringing in the Rangers might shut him down.”
Russ nodded. He turned to Earla. “You’re okay with releasing the scene?”
She shrugged and pulled off her gloves. “Nothing more I can do.”
The four of them went out onto the porch. The sun had set and the azure sky deepened to a dark periwinkle. A few stars were already shining.
“What are you thinking, Earla?” Russ asked.
“That I could use a smoke.” She patted her pockets absently.
Avery produced a pack and took a cigarette for herself, then offered one to Earla.
“I’ll take one,” Russ said.
Earla’s brows rose. “Thought you quit.”
“Yeah, well.” He lit up and leaned against the porch rail. “Okay, Earla, what do you think?”
Earla dropped heavily onto the porch swing. “It’s the same whackadoodle who rigged up that rattler.”
“Why?”
“Who breaks into a place in broad daylight and stays long enough to do a couple loads of laundry? Same nutcase who stands in front of a house full of people rigging a booby trap in a minivan. This perp’s got cojones.”
“Psychotic?”
Earla frowned. “If he was irrational, he woulda got caught already.”
“You think a sane person did this?” Avery sounded incredulous.
“I didn’t say sane . Rational. Could be some upstanding-member-of-the-community type who passes for normal. But whoever it is, they’re definitely a half-bubble off plumb. Probably fantasizes about going down in history as the ‘Rabbit Face Killer’ or some such nonsense.” She turned to Colly. “Don’t you reckon?”
“I’m not sure. I get the feeling there’s some ideology behind this—I just can’t figure out what it is.”
Colly sighed, staring eastward through curling tendrils of cigarette smoke. Low in the sky, the moon, two days from the full, hung above the bluffs, where a long line of wind turbines turned slowly in the cold gray light.