Chapter 30
The trip to Sweetwater was less productive than Colly had hoped. David Carroway’s therapist, an elderly gentleman with a grizzled goatee and an impassive face, believed that his client was being truthful about the incident with Willis, but he volunteered no additional details or insights. Colly asked about the possibility of a false or altered memory. Was there any chance that Willis had, in fact, molested Carroway, who later recast the event in his mind as something innocent? But the therapist didn’t think so, giving a long, jargon-laden explanation that Colly didn’t bother to untangle.
“Waste of time,” Avery grumbled when they were back in the cruiser. “What’s the plan?”
Colly rummaged for her sunglasses. “How far is it to Colorado City from here?”
“Probably half an hour.”
Colly checked her watch. “No time now.”
“For what?”
“The burner phone that sent me that threatening text was bought at a convenience store there last Saturday. The clerk told Russ he sold two phones that day—one to a middle-aged white female and one to a younger Black male. That’s all he remembers, and the store has no cameras. But whoever bought the phone could’ve made more than one stop. If we backtrack along the route from there to Crescent Bluff, maybe we’ll find someone who saw something—maybe even get video footage.”
“Sounds like the mother of all snipe hunts, to me.”
“I know it’s a long shot, but we’re out of leads. Identifying who bought that phone might be the break we need.”
Avery conceded the point with a shrug. “Why can’t we do it now?”
“School lets out in a couple hours.”
“Tonight, then?”
“I’ve got a dinner thing with Niall Shaw and Brenda—I’m hoping to pick their brains a little more about Denny. Sometimes when you hit a wall, it’s best to go back to victimology.” Colly chewed her lip. “Let’s do this: drop me in town, and then you drive the route to Colorado City. Stop everywhere. Talk to as many people and gather as much footage as you can. We’ll comb through it at the station tomorrow.”
Although Brenda had offered to pick up Satchel after school, Colly wanted to do it herself. Brenda’s account of the therapy sessions had alarmed her, and she couldn’t get Satchel’s crayon self-portraits out of her head. Colly had barely seen him in forty-eight hours, and they’d be apart again that night and much of tomorrow. Some quality time together would be good for them both.
“How was school?” she asked when he climbed into the car.
He shrugged noncommittally but brightened when she suggested a trip to Dairy Queen. A few minutes later, they were seated at a picnic table under the ice cream shop’s faded awning drinking strawberry milkshakes.
Satchel chattered excitedly about spending the night at the ranch. “Minnie got a new hamster named Toby. He’s funny—he rolls around the house in a clear plastic ball. She’s gonna take him to show Grandma Iris tonight.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I wanna take my ant farm to the ranch. Can we go get it?”
Colly sighed. She’d been dreading this conversation. The ant farm had gotten knocked off the nightstand and broken, she told him. But she’d get him a new one. He listened solemnly and asked no questions. When she finished explaining, he began to talk about going to the Rattlesnake Rodeo the next day as if he hadn’t heard what she’d said.
She drove Satchel to Brenda’s house at four-thirty and kissed him goodbye. “Be good for Grandma Iris. You’re going to stay there with Logan and Minnie till Aunt Brenda comes to take you to the Rodeo tomorrow afternoon.”
“Aren’t you coming to the Rodeo, too?”
“Maybe, buddy—I’ll have to see. I’ve got lots of work to do.”
Brenda walked Colly to her car. “Go home and clean up. I’ll take the kids to the ranch and pick you up around six. Niall lives kind of far—it’s easier if we go together.”
When Colly returned to the farmhouse, she was startled to find that she couldn’t unlock the door. She double-checked to make sure she had the right key, then tried again. The key went into the lock but wouldn’t turn. The memory of yesterday’s break-in still fresh, she cursed and drew her pistol. She circled the house, but all the doors and windows were secure. Pulling out her phone to call Russ, she saw a missed text from him. He’d changed the locks that morning. The new key was under the gas can in the carport.
Feeling relieved and a bit foolish, Colly found the key and went inside. After showering, she surveyed her clothing options before pulling on a pair of clean jeans and a simple plum-colored top. She was just tying her thick, unmanageable hair into a loose ponytail when Brenda rang the bell.
“Thank God you’re in jeans, too,” Colly said as they climbed into the rental sedan Brenda had been driving since the snake incident. “There’s no way I was going to ask to borrow something again, after what happened to your blue dress Monday.”
Brenda turned the ignition and put the car in reverse. “Casual clothes are mandatory at Niall’s. Chances are good he’ll drag us outside to admire his fishing hole.”
“His what?”
“He calls it that. It’s actually a lovely little pond behind his house.”
“Should we take a bottle of wine or something?”
“I had one, but I forgot to bring it. Niall won’t care. He’s very laid-back.”
Niall Shaw lived thirty miles northwest of town, in a sparsely populated knot of cedar-clad hills. The sun was setting as Brenda turned off the main road onto a narrow lane. It wound for half a mile through the hills before ending abruptly in a broad patch of pea gravel edged with boulders. Niall’s navy-blue Jeep was parked there, but Colly saw no sign of a house.
Brenda parked the car, and they walked to the row of boulders. Colly found herself looking down into a grassy, saucer-shaped hollow. At the bottom was a stand of dark cedars close to a reed-edged pond. She followed Brenda down a graded path that led through the trees to a small, neat house a hundred yards from the pond. It was painted dark gray and built in a retro, mid-century modern style, with floor-to-ceiling windows along the front. Through these, Colly glimpsed the warm glow of walls paneled in honey-colored oak. Despite its modern design, the place seemed like an organic part of its rustic surroundings. Colly had seen nothing like it in West Texas.
“Did we go through some wormhole and come out in California?” she asked as they climbed a short flight of steps to the door.
Brenda laughed. “Niall designed the house. He’s one of those annoying people who’s talented at almost everything.”
“I had no idea psychology paid so well.”
“I think he got some kind of inheritance from his folks. His dad made a tidy bundle in the mining industry in Montana.”
Brenda rapped on the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. “Hey, it’s us.”
“I’m in the kitchen—come on back,” Niall shouted.
Colly stepped inside. They were standing in an open-plan living room, cleanly furnished with a red leather Chesterfield sofa and two Eames lounge chairs. Framed textiles splashed with stylized designs of birds, lizards, and gazelles hung on one wall, while densely packed bookshelves ranged along two others. The window at the far end of the room looked out on a lawn that sloped towards the pond.
She followed Brenda through the living room and around the corner into a white-tiled kitchen with a dining area at one end. Niall, wearing a chef’s apron over jeans and a t-shirt, was at the stove, stirring something in an enameled Dutch oven.
“What’s that heavenly smell?” Brenda plopped down on one of the barstools lining the counter.
Niall adjusted the flame under the pot and turned to greet them, wiping his hands on his apron. “Coq au vin.”
Brenda clapped her hands. “You’re spoiling us.”
“I always default to French food when I’m hoping to impress a new acquaintance.” He smiled at Colly.
“I love your house. Those textile hangings in the living room are amazing.”
“They’re Korhogo mud cloths from the Ivory Coast. My father was born there. That’s how I got interested in French cuisine.”
“How’d your family end up in the States?”
Niall opened a cupboard and began taking out plates. “Dad studied hydraulic engineering in England, then moved to Montana to work for a mining company. He met my mom at a ski resort near Red Lodge while she was visiting a friend. And the rest is history, as they say.”
“The other day you said you moved here after your dad died?”
Niall nodded. “My mom wanted to be near family. She had an aunt in Falroy, about thirty miles from here. We bought a house in Crescent Bluff because it had a better school system. I hated it. Siblings would’ve helped. I was the only Black kid in my eighth-grade class. We’re thin on the ground in Montana, too,” he added with a wry smile. “But at least there you’ve got the mountains and rivers for compensation. When I moved back here after grad school, I bought this property because it doesn’t feel like West Texas, to me. It’s green, anyway. And I can escape from people when I want. It’s tough being different.”
“But everyone knows you. And you provide such a great service to the community,” Colly said.
Niall hunched his shoulders. “The South is the South. It’s true, most people are very nice, though there’s always some low-grade stupid stuff. But even with the best, I sometimes get the feeling they’re thinking of me as their Black friend.” He pushed the plates across the bar to Brenda. “Make yourself useful and lay those out, will you?”
“What should I do with all that?” Brenda gestured towards the glass-topped table, which was strewn with books and papers.
“Oh, I was working earlier. Just pile everything on the bar.”
Colly moved to help. Many of the papers she gathered up were printouts of multicolored blobs. She held one up. “More art from the Ivory Coast?”
Uncorking a bottle of wine, Niall looked up and laughed. “No, PET scans. I’m writing a book with a neuroscientist friend of mine at UC Irvine on the correlation between brain architecture and violent crime. A lot’s been done on that in recent years, but we’re focusing specifically on adolescents. My co-author’s a researcher, so he’s covering statistical aspects on the neurological side, and I’m handling the clinical work.”
Colly looked closely at the PET scan in her hand. Now that she knew what it was, she could clearly discern the distinct folds and valleys of the human brain, lit with gaudy splashes of red, yellow, green—and one very large patch of dark blue.
“What do the colors mean?”
“Warmer ones indicate greater blood flow, which means higher neural activity in that area. See that gigantic blue blob on the right side?” Niall leaned across the bar to point.
“Low blood flow there?”
“Almost none. That region of the frontal lobe’s associated with morality, empathy, and self-control.”
“A psychopath?”
“Basically, yes, though that’s a term cops and reporters use, not scientists.” He nodded towards the page in Colly’s hand. “That’s the brain of a seventeen-year-old who killed his grandparents over a jar of loose change. He’s in a state prison, but the majority of our study participants are at the juvenile correctional facility in Brownwood. I go out to meet with them once a month.”
“I’m glad that kid was tried as an adult,” Brenda said as she wiped down the table with a damp cloth. “I’d hate to think someone like that could be back on the streets soon.”
Colly handed the scan to Niall, who took it with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I’ve been droning. I get carried away.” He laid the paper with the rest and opened a cupboard.
“It’s interesting. Jolene Hoyer mentioned you did a brain scan on Denny. Was that for this project?” Colly asked a little nervously.
“Yes and no.” Niall handed a stack of placemats and napkins to Brenda and took wine glasses from another cupboard. “Denny was really too young—the study’s cutoff is fifteen. But I told the Hoyers that the clinic would handle his therapy pro bono if they’d let me enroll him. I figured it’d hurt their pride less if they thought I was getting something out of the deal. I just wanted to help.” He filled the wine glasses and handed one to each of his guests.
“Would it be ethical to show me Denny’s PET scan?” Colly asked.
Niall hesitated, then shrugged. “If you think it might help solve his murder.” He rifled through the scans, then pushed one across the bar. Colly recognized the signature dark blue blotch in the frontal lobe.
“Denny was a psychopath?”
“He definitely lacked empathy and impulse control. But he was a thirteen-year-old boy. That’s kind of their thing. The brain changes so rapidly during puberty that it’s impossible to say how typical or atypical he was without scanning a lot more kids his age.”
“In Denny’s case, there were other worrying signs, though,” Brenda said. “Cruelty to animals, bed-wetting, arson—all typical traits of ASPD in kids.”
“ASPD?” Colly asked.
“Antisocial personality disorder. In layman’s terms, psychopathy. I was definitely concerned.”
Colly’s mind went to Satchel’s recent behavior. She felt suddenly queasy.
“Not everyone with ASPD’s a criminal,” Niall said, as if reading her thoughts. “Many—probably most—live fully integrated, productive lives. A grad-school buddy of mine scanned himself out of curiosity a few years back and found out he has a so-called psychopathic brain. The Smithsonian did an article on it. I still tease him.”
“But he’s not—?”
Niall looked up from slicing a baguette, and laughed. “He’s a little cut-throat on the rugby field, but that’s the worst of it.”
A kitchen timer rang, indicating that the coq au vin was ready, and the conversation turned to other things.
Colly was surprised at how much she enjoyed the dinner. The food was excellent, and Niall proved to be well-read and widely traveled. He conversed intelligently about a range of issues and showed a lively interest in her, as well, asking many questions about her life and career. The more they talked, the more Colly found herself wondering about him. Why would someone so bright and cosmopolitan bury himself in a dried-up backwater like Crescent Bluff?
After dinner, Niall suggested a stroll down to the pond before dessert. Outside, the air was cool, and the stars hung thick and bright. The moon was rising, and a glowing yellow nimbus hovered on the eastern rim of the hollow. From the direction of the pond came the melancholy chuck-chuck-chuck of a leopard frog.
The path to the pond led past a small log cabin a few dozen yards from the house. “My fly-tying shed,” Niall explained. “It’s a hobby.”
Brenda laughed. “It’s an obsession . You should see it, Col. Feathers and beads and fur and more frou-frou than the dressing room of a Hollywood starlet. Open the door, Niall—give her a peek.”
Niall good-naturedly agreed, and they crossed the lawn to the shed. A motion-sensitive light beneath the eaves flickered on. The door was padlocked, and Niall felt along its upper casing for the key.
Inside, he switched on the lights. The interior of the shed was crowded with gear yet seemed neatly organized. Dozens of expensive-looking fly-rod cases lay across the open rafters above. Reels, waders, vests, nets, and baskets hung on one wall. On another, rows of shelves were stacked with plastic containers, each carefully labelled. In the corner, beside an enormous wheeled plastic case of the sort used to convey sporting equipment, stood a plywood workbench fitted with a vise and magnifying glass, both on hinged arms. A large pegboard on the wall above it held spools of thread and wire, bobbins, pliers, scissors, tweezers, and other tools of obscure purpose. Given the remoteness of the property, Colly had initially been surprised that Niall bothered to lock the shed. Now she understood.
There must be fifty grand worth of stuff in here , she thought.
“What did I tell you?” Brenda said. “And to think Lowell used to gripe about my teeny little scrapbooking closet.”
“How long have you been collecting this stuff?” Colly asked.
Niall leaned against the workbench. “I started as a kid. Fly-fishing’s huge in Montana. But most Texas rivers are too hot for trout. After my mom and I moved here, I used to get so homesick that I’d cast a line in every piddly little pond within biking range, even though there’s nothing in them but bluegill and turtles.”
Colly had wandered across the room and was examining a framed photo of an eleven- or twelve-year-old Niall standing knee-deep in water and holding up an enormous fish.
“Sounds like you still miss Montana.”
“I go up there to fish a couple times a year.”
“Why didn’t you open your practice there, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Niall was quiet. Colly turned. He was watching her, an odd expression on his face. “My standard answer—there aren’t enough mental-health services in this area. I wanted to help. But if I’m being totally honest, I’m partly here to do penance.”
Colly waited, thinking of what Avery had said about him the previous night. “Penance for what?” she asked bluntly when he volunteered nothing more.
“It’s no deep, dark secret. Just garden-variety regret.” He gave her a sad smile and picked up a hook-shaped tool from the workbench, turning it in his fingers. “Did I tell you I knew Adam Parker? He used to follow me around. I wasn’t always very nice to him. After he died, I felt bad about that—especially when I got old enough to realize he was just looking for a role model. I can’t help thinking that if I’d been a better friend, he might still be alive. His sister thinks so. I’ve apologized, but she’s never forgiven me.” Niall tapped the hook thoughtfully against his palm. “Adam’s the reason I got interested in psychology. I sat through every minute of Willis Newland’s trial, wanting to understand why someone would do what he did. His trial was one of the first in the country to use brain-scan evidence as a defense. They showed his PET scan in court—it looked exactly like the ones in my kitchen. I was fascinated.” He tossed the tool on the workbench.
Colly glanced at Brenda, who was regarding Niall intently from her seat on the rolling gear box. “You were here back then, too, weren’t you, Bren?” she asked.
Brenda jumped. “I—I was a high-school senior. I didn’t know Adam, but his death made a huge impression.”
“What do you—?” Colly was interrupted by a vibration in her pocket. She checked her phone. “It’s Iris.”
Iris did all of the talking. Colly listened, then said, “We’re on our way.” She hung up with a sigh.
“Are the kids okay?” Brenda demanded.
Colly felt suddenly very tired. She set the phone on the shelf beside her and rubbed her eyes. “They had a fight or something. Iris tried to explain, but there was a lot of yelling and crying in the background. She sounds frazzled.”
They returned to the house for their purses, and Niall walked them back up the path to their car.
“Sorry to miss your crème br?lée.” Brenda kissed him on the cheek.
“Gives us an excuse to do this again.” Niall turned to Colly and extended his hand. “I hope everything’s okay with the kids. Let me know if there’s anything I can do—anything at all.” In the moonlight, Colly had the impression that he was observing her closely. They shook, and he waited politely while she got into the car and put on her seatbelt before he closed her door.
As they drove away, Colly glanced in the side mirror. Niall was standing silhouetted against the stars, watching their taillights recede into the night.