Chapter 32
The grassy lawn behind the house was still slick with dew, and Colly picked her way carefully along the path to the shed. Standing on tiptoes, she groped along the door’s upper casing until she found the key.
Inside, the air was chilly. A faint, dusty light filtered through a curtained window high on the north wall. Colly groped for a switch, and a bank of florescent work lamps hummed to life. She glanced around. Nothing in the shed appeared altered since she’d seen it last; but in the densely packed confusion of tackle, fly-rods, tools, and other equipment, she saw no sign of her phone.
Where had she left it? Colly crossed the room to the wall of metal shelves stacked with shoebox-sized plastic bins. She’d been standing here when Iris called. Presumably, the bins contained fly-tying materials, though the descriptions on their labels were cryptic: Foam Bodies, Grizzly Hackle, Eyes, Chenille. Familiar terms, though contextually unenlightening. Others—Dry-Fly Dubbing, Zonker Strips, Tippets—communicated nothing to her mind. She noted them automatically as she ran her hands over the tops of the bins and shifted them to check the gaps in between.
After five minutes of searching, she was getting frustrated when a soft buzzing noise drew her attention to a bin labeled “Goose Biots.” Her phone sat beside it, vibrating insistently. Relieved, she picked it up.
“Finally,” Brenda exclaimed when Colly answered. “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.” There’d been a change of plans, she said. Thunderstorms were now forecast for the early afternoon, so Brenda, Alice, and Iris were going to take the kids to the Rattlesnake Rodeo now.
Colly could hear children chattering excitedly in the background. “Sounds like they’re over their fight.”
Brenda hesitated. “I think so. Chocolate-chip pancakes this morning helped.”
“It’s pretty sunny, at the moment.”
“Iris has Satchel’s EpiPen, and she’s buttering him with sunblock as we speak.”
Colly checked her watch. “I’ll try to meet you out there for lunch, if I can.”
“Oh.” A brief silence. “Are you sure? I figured you’ve had enough of snakes this week.”
“Satchel really wants me there. Don’t tell him, though—I don’t want to disappoint him if I can’t make it.”
They said goodbye, and Colly stuffed the phone in her pocket. As she turned towards the door, she caught sight of the last bin on the bottom shelf. She froze, then knelt for a closer look at the words printed on the label. An adjective and a noun. A thousand bees began to buzz inside her skull. She touched the words to make sure of what she was seeing. “Hares’ Masks.”
Standing up, she moved quickly to the door and peered cautiously towards the house. Through the windows, she caught sight of Niall pacing the kitchen, still on the phone. Closing the door again, she took out her own phone and snapped a few photos of the bin on its shelf before carrying it to the workbench.
Her heart thudded as she removed the plastic lid. The faces of a half-dozen flayed rabbits stared up at her with empty eyes. Colly reached for the masks, then stopped, struck suddenly by the vulnerability of her position. She took a picture and texted it to Avery— Need backup, Shaw’s place. NOW.
She loosened her gun in its holster. Had Shaw forgotten that the masks were here? Cocky bastard to label the things. Or was it a calculated move? Did he want her to find them? Was it some sort of confession—part of some sick game? Whatever the case, he might be off the phone any second. If there was more evidence, she needed to find it now.
Colly looked quickly around. From hooks behind the door hung two sets of waders. A pair of rubber boots stood on a mat beneath them. She checked them all. Each had a clearly legible “10” stamped on its instep.
Her phone vibrated. A text from Avery: ON MY WAY.
It’ll take her a while to get here, Colly thought. I was stupid to come alone.
Her eyes fell on the hard-sided equipment case near the workbench. Denny’s body had been moved to the stock pond by something with wheels—a dolly, the Rangers thought, though the tracks had been smooth, and most dolly-wheels had treads. Was this case large enough to hold a child? Satchel, yes. But Denny? Colly knelt for a closer look. Smooth casters. And muddy.
She tried the lid. Locked. Why keep it locked inside a padlocked shed? Maybe the key was hidden nearby. Colly felt along the edges of the workbench, then began to rifle through the numerous small containers on its surface. Dumping the contents of a battered metal Folgers can, she sorted quickly through them. No key. But among the empty thread spools, beads, and bits of colored foam, a small strip of iridescent pink ribbon fluttered out. Colly picked it up. Was it the same as those Russ had shown her—the ribbons wrapped around the masks found on Adam and Denny?
She was hunched over the desk, oblivious to all but the scrap of ribbon on her palm, when she heard the shed door open quietly behind her. Colly froze. The door opened wider, and a bright blade of morning light fell across the workbench. On the wall in front of her loomed the silhouette of a man. He held something in his hand.
The shadow moved. “What are you doing?”
Almost without thinking, Colly turned and drew her sidearm in a single, smooth motion.
Niall stood just inside the shed, one hand on the doorknob. In the other, he clutched his phone. Seeing the gun, he took a half-step backwards. “What the hell?”
“Hands up. Turn around.”
“Colly, what’s going on?”
“Turn around, damn you.”
Niall pivoted slowly to face the wall and placed his palms against it.
“If you have a weapon, tell me now,” Colly said.
“Phone, keys, wallet. That’s it.”
“Don’t move.”
She approached him cautiously. Pressing the gun against his spine, she took his phone and stuffed it in her pocket, then patted him down with her free hand, emptying his pockets and tossing the contents onto the workbench.
“Can I turn around now?” he asked when she stepped away.
“Shut up. Stay where you are.”
“Colly—”
“I said shut up.” A decrepit rolling office chair stood in front of the workbench. Colly shoved it behind his knees, then stepped back. “Sit down, then turn very slowly. Keep your hands on the armrests.”
He obeyed, his dark eyes fixed on the gun’s muzzle. “Am I under arrest?”
“I’m not a cop anymore. But police are on the way. Meanwhile, it’s your choice if you want to talk to me.”
Niall didn’t seem to hear her. He had torn his gaze from the gun, and his eyes were roving around the shed, scanning the floor, ceiling, shelves, workbench. “At least tell me why—” He spotted the bin labeled “Hares’ Masks,” and froze. “Oh...” His eyes met Colly’s, and he moved to stand up.
Colly raised the gun. “Don’t.”
He checked himself. Suddenly, all the energy seemed to drain from him. He looked sick. “I—I forgot those were here.”
“You’re a good actor. You really had me going with that sophisticated-psychologist routine.” Colly lowered herself onto the edge of the workbench, keeping her gun trained on his chest. “Why’d you do it?”
“I didn’t kill Adam.”
“No. You just pulled him out of that pond and left him for the scavengers, with one of these creepy things in his hand.” She jerked her head towards the bin of masks beside her.
Niall looked up. “It was a mistake, but it doesn’t warrant holding me at gunpoint—it was twenty years ago.”
Colly ignored this. “Why didn’t you call the cops when you found him?”
“You won’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“You’re making me nervous. Put the gun away, and I’ll talk.”
Colly shook her head. Her fingers tightened on the weapon’s grip.
Niall shifted impatiently. “Look, you’ve already searched me. What am I going to do, attack you with a fish hook?”
“I won’t shoot unless you do something dumb.”
“Speaking as a Black man, that’s not reassuring.” Niall watched her for a moment. “Colly, it’s me. An hour ago, you were telling me your life story. If you jump ahead of your evidence, you’ll be making the same mistake you made in Houston.”
Colly pursed her lips, hesitating. Finally, she laid the weapon on the bench, pointing the muzzle towards the wall but keeping her hand on it.
Niall’s shoulders relaxed. “Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you report finding Adam’s body?”
“I was scared.”
“Of—?”
“Of the all-white police force, what do you think? I figured it was safer to keep my mouth shut—at the time.”
“Oh, come on.”
Niall smiled grimly. “You don’t get it. Nobody knew us in Crescent Bluff, and I was a fatherless Black adolescent—the most suspicious demographic in America to the average white cop.”
“Avery says everyone admired you.”
“In high school, sure. Other kids hung around me because their parents told them not to. I was the bad boy, if you can believe it. Me .” He laughed sourly.
“You were scared to report finding Adam because you’re Black—you’re sticking to that?” Colly asked.
“I was also grieving and confused.” Niall’s eyes flashed with the first sign of anger. “Is it that hard to believe? Jesus, I thought maybe you were different.”
“Right, I’m the bad guy. What’s your excuse with Denny and Willis? You weren’t a teenager when they died.”
Niall stared at her blankly. “Denny and Willis?”
Colly picked up a hare’s mask. “Police never released this detail to the public. You’re the only person who knew.”
Niall frowned. “Are you saying hares’ masks were found with Denny and Willis, also?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I had no idea—I promise you.” He held up his hands, palms outward.
Colly reached for the gun. “Don’t move.”
“Sorry—you caught me off guard.” Niall returned his hands to the armrests. “Look, I pulled Adam out of the pond and put the mask in his hand—but that’s all. I never met Willis, and I was at a conference seven hundred miles from here when Denny died.”
He looked so genuinely bewildered that Colly felt a stirring of doubt. “Why would you leave a rabbit face on a little boy’s corpse? That’s pretty sick.”
“They’re used to make flies. If you’ll let me up, I’ll show you.” He nodded towards a tackle box by the wall.
“Stay there.” Keeping her eyes on him, Colly carried the gun with her as she fetched the box and set it on the workbench. She opened the lid. Inside, in divided compartments, were dozens of tiny barbed tufts of fuzz. She looked inquiringly at Niall.
“See the brown and gray ones on the bottom left?” he said. “They’re dry flies made with turkey tail feathers and fur from an English hare. The pink wings come from strands of chenille ribbon. My own invention—the ‘AnNiallator.’”
“AnNiallator?”
“Dumb, I know. I was twelve when I named it. I’ve caught some great trophy trout with those.” Even in the stress of the current moment, there was a note of pride in his voice.
“There aren’t any English hares in Texas.”
Niall blinked in surprise. “I don’t kill and skin the things myself. Sporting-goods stores carry hares’ masks—at least up north, they do. But I got mine online. They’re perfect for dry-fly tying because they have so many types of fur on them—guard hairs, underfur, whiskers, hackles.”
Colly squinted at him, deliberating. “Your waders are size ten, just like the footprints by Denny’s body.”
“I told you, I was in Phoenix. Take the waders, run any tests you want.”
“What about this rolling case?” Colly gestured towards the black box by the workbench. “Why is it locked?”
“My custom fly-rods are in there. They’re worth more than my Jeep. You’ve got my keys—see for yourself.”
Colly did as he suggested. “Okay, okay.” She sat back down. “Let’s say I buy your story. I still don’t understand why you’d leave one of these masks on Adam’s body. Were you trying to mess with the cops?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why?”
Niall was quiet for a minute. “I told you last night that Adam was my little shadow.”
“You said you felt guilty because you weren’t very nice to him.”
He nodded. “I was in high school when Adam started tagging along on fishing trips. He wanted to help, though mostly he got underfoot—asking a million questions, scaring off the fish, generally being a pest. Normal kid stuff, but I wasn’t very patient. He wanted to learn to tie flies, and he ruined a bunch playing with them, which really annoyed me. Finally, I told him if he touched my gear again without permission, he wouldn’t be allowed to help anymore.
“One day, we were at the stock pond. I waded out to unsnag my line, and when I turned around, Adam was playing with a hare’s mask from the tackle box. He had his fingers through the eyeholes, pretending it was a puppet. Acting silly.”
A shadow crossed Niall’s face. “He didn’t damage it in any way. But it pissed me off. More than pissed me off. I blew up, told him I was through with him. Sent him home.” Niall sighed. “That was the last time I saw him. When he disappeared a few days later, I thought he started that fire and ran away because of me.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
Niall shook his head. “Too ashamed.” He looked away. “About a month after Adam vanished, I went back to the stock pond—to fish a little, get my mind off things. The vultures were circling, and something was floating in the water. A mannequin, I thought.” He swallowed. “I waded out. Adam was face-up, wrapped in a chain. All bloated and purple, like he’d been submerged for weeks. Unrecognizable.”
“Then how’d you know who it was?” Colly asked.
“He was the only kid missing. Besides, I recognized his clothes.” Niall stared at the floor, reliving the moment. “I don’t remember getting back to shore, but I remember puking my guts up in the reeds. I sat on the bank for hours, trying to decide what to do.”
Colly didn’t have to coax him to tell the rest of the story. Right away, he’d understood that it was murder—that much was obvious. But he’d been terrified to report it. He felt responsible, somehow, and assumed others would think so, too. He returned to the pond day after day, hoping each time that the body had been discovered.
“I was sure someone would see the vultures, but no one did. I was afraid the body would sink again when the bloat subsided. It might never be found.” Niall looked up. “So, one day, I took my waders and a bolt cutter out to the pond.” He winced. “It’s not a pleasant memory.”
Colly nodded. “And the hare’s mask you left in his hand?”
Niall smiled sadly. “My guilt offering, I guess you’d say. My apology to Adam.” He sat up straighter. “You may not believe this, but it never occurred to me to wonder what the cops would think of it. I definitely didn’t imagine they’d take it as some perverse psychopathic signature.”
Colly studied him, chewing her lip. “Who else knows about this?”
“No one.”
“Not even a friend? Therapist? Priest? Your mother? Think carefully.”
“No.”
“What about Brenda—when you were dating?”
“You’re the first to hear about it. I swear. It was just between Adam and me—a private thing.” He looked at her. “That sounds crazy, I know.”
Not that crazy , Colly thought. Aloud, she said, “Then how do you explain those masks showing up with Denny and Willis?”
“I can’t. But anyone could’ve ordered them—they’re on Amazon.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. None ever went missing from your shed?”
“Not that I’m aware.” Niall paused. “You said the cops didn’t officially release the detail of the mask. But maybe one of them let it slip.”
“Cops understand how vital it is to keep a secret like that.”
“Yeah, but there had to be quite a few in on it. It only takes one careless comment.”
Colly’s mind strayed uneasily to Russ. He’d lied to give his brother an alibi. Could he have told Lowell about the hares’ masks, too? He had vehemently rejected her suggestion that Denny was murdered by a copycat. Was he trying to steer her away from some inconvenient truth?
“I’ll look into it.” Colly stood and holstered her gun. “I’d like to take these in as evidence, if that’s okay.” She picked up the bin of hares’ masks.
“Does this mean you believe me?” Niall asked, pushing out of the chair.
Colly looked at him. A trace of bitter watchfulness still lingered in his eyes, but his expression was open, ingenuous. If he was a liar, he was an extraordinarily talented one.
“Let’s go back to the house.” She handed him his phone and other belongings. “Avery’ll be here any minute.” She started towards the door but stopped at the threshold. “Look, I’m sorry. This investigation’s got my nerves on edge. I thought you were the killer.”
“I know.”
“It’s nothing personal.”
“Maybe it should be,” he said flatly. “I like you, Colly. I like you a lot. But it’s demoralizing, always having to revise my expectations downward.”
Colly said nothing. As she stepped outside, her eyes were momentarily dazzled by the bright morning sunlight, and she ran into the dark form before she saw it. She reached for her gun, but someone grabbed her hand.
“Relax, it’s me.”
As Colly’s eyes adjusted, she saw that Avery was standing, weapon drawn, beside the doorway.
“I got here a few minutes ago—in time to hear this sonofabitch admit to leaving my brother out for buzzard bait.” She stared darkly at Niall, who was emerging from the shed. “You were getting good info, so I didn’t interrupt.”
“If you heard that, then you heard why I did it,” Niall said.
“They ate his eyes out, you asshole.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You—” Avery started, but Colly laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Now’s not the time. Let’s stay focused.”
They said goodbye to Niall at the house, and as they climbed the path to their cars, Colly summarized the parts of the story that Avery had missed. Her derisive snorts and mutterings showed plainly that she was skeptical of Niall’s account, but she didn’t argue.
“Any update on that video footage?” Colly asked.
“Nothing useful. I haven’t found anyone matching the descriptions the store clerk gave Russ,” Avery said. Some of the cameras had captured the road, and four vehicles showed up repeatedly between Crescent Bluff and Colorado City—a dark green or possibly blue minivan; a diesel pickup pulling a cattle trailer; a black SUV; and a very dirty Jeep of indeterminate color—but Avery hadn’t seen the drivers or gotten any license plates. All the videos were too fuzzy and distant.
Colly sighed. “It was a long shot, but it had to be checked.”
They reached the top of the hill and leaned against the cruiser to catch their breath. The sun was still shining brightly above their heads, but a line of clouds, towering and dark, loomed ominously to the west.
“That’s heading this way. Gonna put a damper on the Rodeo,” Avery said. “What now?”
Colly checked her watch. “Let’s go over Adam’s case file one more time. If we can make a list of everybody who knew about that first hare’s mask, we can try to track them down, see if anyone’ll admit to blabbing.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“I know. But we’re out of leads.” Colly searched her purse for her sunglasses. “Go get yourself some lunch, first. I promised Satchel I’d try to swing by the Rodeo—” Suddenly, she stopped. “Tell me again about those vehicles on the video. Did any have distinguishing features?”
Avery replied. Then, seeing the expression on Colly’s face, she said, “What? What is it?”
Colly didn’t answer. She yanked her phone from her pocket and pulled up her list of contacts, fumbling and nearly dropping the device more than once. Finally, she found the number she was looking for and placed the call. When it was answered, she blurted without preamble, “You talk in your sleep, don’t you?”
She listened tensely to the reply.
“Oh my God.” Beneath her feet, the ground seemed to tilt. She dropped the phone.
Alarmed, Avery grabbed her shoulders, steadying her against the cruiser’s frame. “What is it?”
But Colly only shook her head.
Avery picked up Colly’s phone and held it to her ear. “Who the hell is this?”
She got the answer, but it gave her no insight.
“We have to go, we have to go.” Colly wrenched herself out of Avery’s grip and scrambled into the patrol car. “I know who killed Denny.”