The Killing Plains

Chapter 33

Colly was aware of very little except the roar of the squad car’s engine and the rushing sounds of wind and road as they raced towards the Newland Ranch. She sat in the passenger seat, staring into the distance. Random phrases, seemingly insignificant at the time, churned into her consciousness with a new and terrible relevance.

“Denny looked like a boiled shrimp after ten minutes outside...” “They figured she was a neighbor’s relative, since their dogs didn’t bark ...” “We’ve got some more things for the thrift shop...”

Colly’s shoulders were hunched and aching. She forced herself to relax the muscles, but that didn’t stop the barrage of memories. They slipped into place like scraps of a torn photograph magically reassembling itself as she watched.

“Denny didn’t have no red caps...” “There was play-therapy toys all over...” “He was going to the library to return some books for his mom... something changed his mind...” “No kid’s hereditarily doomed to be a monster...”

“Shouldn’t we call ahead?” Avery asked. “Practically all the local cops are there—they could make an arrest.”

Colly looked up. “Too risky. Might scare the killer into doing something rash.”

Hours seemed to pass before they spotted the streamer flags announcing the entrance to the Rattlesnake Rodeo. A long line of vehicles idled on the shoulder of the Old Ranch Way, waiting to enter. A police deputy stood at the entrance, directing traffic.

“Nice and easy,” Colly said. “Don’t want folks thinking there’s any emergency.”

Avery grunted and stepped on the brake. Skirting the line of cars, they waved to the deputy and turned onto the dusty track that the Newlands opened once a year to serve as the event’s access road. After jolting across the ranchland for half a mile, they spotted the white roof of the circus tent with a Lone Star flag flying from its peak. Passing the crowded makeshift parking lot, they stopped at the construction fence that circled the Rodeo grounds.

“What’s the plan?” Avery asked.

“I’ll start on this end. You go around to the employee entrance. We’ll work towards the middle. You know who we’re looking for.”

Avery chewed her lip. “Yeah, but I don’t know how you’re so sure. It’d suck to make a mistake—considering who it is.”

“It’s no mistake. I’ll explain later. There’s no time now.” Colly leapt out, slipping through the main gate as Avery drove off in a cloud of red dust.

Although she’d seen the Rodeo being set up just two days earlier, Colly was unprepared for the size of the crowd or the assault on her senses. Country music blared from speakers fixed to tall posts, competing with shouting children, barking dogs, and a cacophony of tunes emanating from numerous booths and arcades. The odors of hot dogs, cotton candy, and beer hung in the air, mixed with the acrid smells of cooking grease and sun-ripening garbage. Vendors dressed in all sorts of outlandish costumes shouted and waved in an attempt to attract the milling crowds to booths selling everything from t-shirts and ballcaps to rattlesnake-leather wallets, belts, holsters, and Bible covers.

There must be a couple thousand people here , Colly thought, pushing her way through the hot, jostling crush.

It was just past noon. The clouds on the western horizon had darkened to a menacing blue-black. They were closer but hadn’t yet obscured the sun, which beat down through the haze like a disk of tarnished silver. The air was muggy and oppressive. After ten minutes and only a hundred yards of progress, Colly was sweating profusely. She stumbled over an obese basset hound and was apologizing absently to its owner when she caught a glimpse of ash-blond hair and long, tanned legs across the way.

“Alice!” she yelled, but her voice was drowned in the surrounding hubbub. Disentangling herself from the dog’s leash, Colly fought her way through the crowd to a booth where her niece and several other teens were attempting to toss horseshoes around a row of stakes for a prize.

She laid a hand on Alice’s shoulder, and the girl turned. “Aunt Colly—I didn’t know you were here.”

“Thought I’d come see what the fuss is about.” Colly wiped her forehead. “Have you seen your dad?”

“A few minutes ago. He and Uncle Lowell were heading to the big tent.”

“What about Grandma and Aunt Brenda?”

Alice shrugged. “Gran’s judge turned up while we were buying the kids some balloons, and after that I got separated from everyone, somehow.”

“Who has the kids?”

“Logan went to the Ferris wheel with some friends. Satchel and Minnie were with Gran and Aunt Brenda, last I saw.”

“If you run across any of them, text me, okay?”

Alice cheerfully agreed, and Colly pushed once more in the direction of the massive tent. A wide area around its entrance had been left free of booths and stands to create a sort of improvised plaza. Here the crowd thinned slightly. Seeing no one she knew, Colly moved towards the tent’s entrance. Standing beside it was a uniformed officer—Jimmy Meggs. Looking hot and slightly hungover, he greeted her with an irritable nod. But when she pulled him aside and murmured some instructions in his ear, his eyes widened.

“I think the person I’m looking for is probably inside this tent,” Colly said. “Whatever happens, don’t let them get away. Tackle and cuff them, if you have to. But keep them here—and contact Avery or me ASAP. Got it?”

“Who approved this?” Meggs croaked. He looked scared.

“I’ll take responsibility.” Colly nodded towards the entrance. “Is this the only door?”

“There’s one on the north side, too.”

“Who’s on duty there?”

“Some turbine-plant security guard, I think.”

Colly frowned. “I’d rather have a cop. Who’s on-site? Is there someone trustworthy we can put on that door—someone discreet?”

Meggs fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “Gibbins is around somewhere.”

“Radio him to meet you here. You know what to tell him.”

Colly turned and slipped through the entryway. Inside, the tent was crowded and stifling. The stench had worsened considerably since Thursday, a fetid brew of snake blood, offal, greasy food, and sweat. Fighting nausea, Colly assessed her surroundings. It was the worst possible venue for a confrontation. The killer could be armed, and a gunfight would be disastrous. Clear sightlines were impossible in a place like this. Hundreds of civilians—of which at least a third were children—were crammed into a comparatively small area with poor entrance and exit routes, not to mention open pens of lethal vipers. The open-carry laws in Texas meant that dozens in the crowd likely had weapons, and with the walls of the place made of canvas, people both inside and outside the tent would be in danger.

Colly cursed softly and began to work her way towards the north end of the big top. A ring of spectators surrounded the holding pit that she’d seen on Thursday with Russ. She elbowed her way to the plywood wall for a better view of the faces gathered there. The pit still held hundreds of snakes, though fewer than Colly remembered. Inside it, a man and a woman, both in Kevlar gloves, tall boots, and camo-colored gaiters, were using long-handled tongs to load the creatures into large plastic bins, which they handed over the wall to workers who carried them away.

Colly saw no one she recognized either there or at the second ring, where a heavily bearded man was demonstrating snake-handling techniques. At the third ring, workers in blood-spattered rubber aprons stood at butcher blocks made of tree stumps, methodically beheading snake after snake with machetes and tossing the fanged heads and still-writhing bodies into separate buckets. Children pressed their sticky faces against the plexiglass windows of the enclosure and shrieked with each decapitating chop. There were more people at this pen than at any other, and Colly spent several minutes circling it hopefully before giving up and moving on.

At the last ring, workers were skinning and gutting the headless snakes before passing them on to the fry cooks in the food court. There Colly caught a glimpse of a sandy head and pair of broad shoulders disappearing behind one of the food stands. She hurried in pursuit, but when she grabbed the man’s arm, she found herself looking not at Russ but at a bearded biker-type in a t-shirt with “Shoot the Snowflake Libtards” stenciled across the image of an assault rifle wrapped in an American flag.

“Sorry,” Colly muttered. Cutting around a deep-fry station, she stumbled over a picnic table, nearly landing in the lap of an elderly gentleman with a white goatee. Talford Maybrey sat munching something brown and crispy off of a greasy paper plate.

His pink face beamed as he dismissed her apology with a wave. “It’s quite all right, my dear. Did Iris commission a police raid?” He chuckled, wiping his mouth and whiskers neatly with a napkin. “She doesn’t approve of fried foods, but the snake is particularly delicious this year. Care to join me?”

“Maybe later.” Colly’s eyes traveled over the faces clustered around the food trucks. “Where is Iris?”

“Off somewhere being interviewed by a San Angelo news crew.”

Colly inquired about the rest of the family.

“I’ve seen them all at various times,” Talford said. “But I don’t know where anyone is at the moment. It’s easier to lose people than to find them in this place.”

The food court was packed. Saying goodbye to Maybrey, Colly wove through the throngs to the tent’s north doorway. Jimmy Meggs had kept his word, and Colly was relieved to find Gibbins on guard there. She spoke with him briefly before ducking back inside.

The temperature under the big top was rising fast. Sweat trickled down Colly’s back, and her t-shirt clung damply to her skin as she worked her way down the east side of the tent. She’d always been good under pressure, but as the seconds passed, she felt a sort of panic building in her throat. This place was too crowded for one person to search. Wondering if Avery had made it to the tent, Colly was reaching for her phone when she heard a shrill whistle and spotted her partner shouldering towards her through the crowd.

They compared notes. Avery had encountered Logan at the Ferris wheel, but had seen no trace of their suspect.

Colly plucked absently at her clammy shirt. “We’ve been all over this place. What are we missing?”

“We haven’t tried the first-aid trailer or the toilets. They’re both out that way.” Avery nodded towards the north door.

“Good thinking. You check those. I’ll keep looking in here. Call if you find something.”

Avery brushed a tendril of damp purple hair out of her eyes and hurried off. Colly pushed forward once again. By the time she reached the holding pit, she felt dizzy with the heat. She shoved her way towards the bleachers against the wall, where the crowd was thinner, hoping to catch her breath. She found herself near the “Staff Only” entrance to the ad-hoc research room that Russ had shown her on Thursday. Pete, Felix’s nephew, was standing, arms crossed, in front of it, wearing the same boots and greasy straw Stetson he’d worn two days earlier. He nodded impassively as she approached.

“Guarding the research equipment?” Colly asked.

Pete lifted his hat and mopped the back of his neck with a bandana. “Ain’t no equipment now—them Aggies went home. But we can’t have kids messing around back there. Got more snakes than usual this year ’cause of the early hot spell. Research pen’s holding the surplus till we need ’em.”

“Have you seen any of my family?”

Pete nodded. He’d seen all of them at various times within the last hour, he said. “Matter of fact, some of them are back there now.” He jerked his head towards the opening behind him. “They wanted to see it.”

“Who?”

His answer made Colly go cold despite the oppressive heat.

Pete’s brows contracted. “You okay?”

But Colly barely heard him. “Go get help.”

Drawing her gun, she darted past him and through the doorway.

Compared to the brightly lit big top, the research room seemed almost cave-like. The halogen ceiling lamps were dark. The only illumination came from a single work lamp at the opposite end of the space. It was affixed to a stand on the far side of the auxiliary snake pen, positioned in such a way that the glare obscured Colly’s view in that direction. The near end of the room, where she’d seen the venom-milking station and other equipment on Thursday, was now empty except for a few portable tables and chairs stacked by the tent walls.

Colly saw no one. At first, she also heard nothing but the muffled noises of the crowd in the big top behind her and the now-familiar hum of rattlers coming from the snake pen. But after a few seconds, the stillness was broken by a sound that was, in that moment, more terrifying to Colly than all the rattlesnakes in the world.

“Are the snakes mad, or just scared?” It was a high, clear voice that Colly knew at once.

“I don’t know, Satchel. What do you think?”

Colly recognized the answering voice, as well. Her skin prickled, and the gun shook in her hand. Though partially blinded by the work lamp, she now dimly perceived a dark, adult-sized figure standing on the near side of the auxiliary pen—apparently facing away from Colly, since she hadn’t yet been spotted. No child-sized form was visible. Shielding her eyes, Colly began to move cautiously down the length of the room towards the snake pen.

“I think they’re pretending to be mad,” Satchel’s voice responded.

“Why?”

“Avery says that’s what you should do when you’re scared.”

“That’s when snakes are most dangerous,” the other voice answered, as Colly moved closer.

“It’s not their fault,” Satchel said. “People shouldn’t kill them.”

“Sometimes you have to kill things, even if it’s not their fault. Even if you don’t want to.”

Satchel was quiet, apparently considering this point. Colly’s feet felt heavy, like in a nightmare, but she forced herself forward, angling towards the wall to avoid the light. The dark figure grew more distinct as Colly drew abreast of it. Now, she could see a second, much smaller figure in front.

“Why?” Satchel asked.

“We have to stop things that will hurt people.”

“It’s not fair to kill them for something they didn’t do yet.”

“If it’s in their nature to hurt people, we have to make sure they don’t.”

Colly took three more cautious steps, and suddenly the glare no longer blinded her. From this vantage point, the lamplight shone on the faces of the two figures, and she could see them clearly. Satchel was sitting on the edge of the pen, his arms and legs wrapped like a baby monkey’s around the torso of the adult who was with him. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, with a partially deflated red balloon tied to his wrist, he was leaning backwards, craning for a better view of the snakes, while the other’s arms were locked around his waist to keep him from tumbling in.

Colly inhaled sharply.

At the slight noise, Satchel looked up. “Grandma!” he shouted happily. “Let me down, Aunt Brenda—Grandma’s here.”

Brenda gasped and spun around, still holding onto Satchel. But when she saw Colly, her face assumed its familiar, friendly expression. “Oh good, you made it. I didn’t think—” She froze when she noticed Colly’s gun.

“It’s over, Brenda. There’s no way out.” Colly kept her voice calm. “I’ve got guards at both tent exits. Put Satchel down and step away from that pen.” She edged slowly towards them.

“What on earth—?” Brenda’s brow furrowed. Clutching Satchel with one hand and keeping the other on the rim of the snake pen, she backed away. “Colly, are you all right?”

Scared and confused, Satchel began to cry. The half-deflated balloon, which had been rising and sinking slowly around him, now drifted in front of his face, and he batted it fretfully away. “I want Grandma, Aunt Brenda.”

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m right here,” Colly said. “Brenda, let him go.”

Brenda’s arm tightened around the squirming boy. “Hold still, Satchel. She won’t shoot, I promise. Grandma’s been under a lot of pressure. But we’re going to get her some help.”

“You can drop the concerned-psychologist routine. I know about—” Colly stopped herself with a glance at Satchel’s frightened face. “I know everything, Brenda. Others do, too. It’s over.”

Brenda’s eyes narrowed. Her expression didn’t change, exactly; but her features seemed to harden. “If you know all that, then you must understand why.” She was retreating along the perimeter of the snake pen, holding Satchel in front of her like a shield.

“I have a notion.” Colly advanced steadily to the pen’s plywood wall, within fifteen feet of Brenda and Satchel. She glanced quickly inside. On the sawdust floor were at least a hundred snakes. Most had gravitated to the opposite wall under the work lamp and were basking in a tangled heap. “Put Satchel down, and let’s talk. That’s the only way to help yourself now.”

Brenda stopped. “Help myself?” Her voice was sharp. “This isn’t about me.”

“Then think of Logan and Minnie.”

Brenda’s eyes flashed. “I am—I always have been. Do you think I wanted to kill Denny?”

For a second, Satchel stopped struggling. His eyes widened, and he stared at Brenda.

“Look at me, Satch,” Colly said quickly. “Brenda, I’m sure you didn’t mean to do it.” She kept her voice soothing as she inched forward. “Remorse will go a long way with a jury—but actions speak louder than words. Let him go.”

“Remorse?” Brenda seemed puzzled. “I evaluated Denny. I saw his PET scan. When Willis was that age, no one knew what he was. But with Denny, we knew. Someone just needed the will to act.”

“You can’t play God.”

“That’s what people tell themselves to justify doing nothing,” Brenda said bitterly. “I sat through Willis’s trial in ’98, you know. The defense showed his brain scan, and it blew me away. I had no idea technology like that existed. Why wasn’t he scanned at the first sign of trouble—back when he molested that Carroway boy? I wanted to stand up in court and scream, ‘You mean you could’ve seen this coming—you could’ve stopped him murdering Adam Parker? What the hell is wrong with you people?’”

“Brenda, you didn’t just evaluate Denny. What was the point of doing therapy with him if you were planning to kill him?”

“I had to make sure I was right about him, didn’t I? There’s no room for error with something like that.”

“For God’s sake, Brenda, he was a child—you could’ve helped him. No one’s doomed to be a monster from birth.”

Brenda grimaced. “You’ve been talking to Niall, I see. I used to think that way, too. But half-measures don’t work with a psychopath. You of all people should know that.”

As Brenda spoke, Colly caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision. Someone was edging cautiously along the opposite wall, keeping in the shadows and working to stay out of Brenda’s line of sight. Colly didn’t dare look to see who it was. She needed to keep Brenda’s focus firmly on her.

“You used to think like Niall? What changed your mind?”

“If a criminal’s broke, we lock him up and throw away the key. But a dangerous psychopath can have his sentence commuted if his family contributes enough to the governor’s campaign.”

“You mean Willis?”

Brenda nodded. “When he got out last year, I was stunned. My kids spend half their time at the ranch. Everyone said, ‘Don’t worry, there’s a restraining order’—like that’s supposed to reassure me. Give me a break. I realized the truth—with a psychopath, there’s only one solution.”

The figure by the wall had paused briefly during this speech but now began to move again. Colly caught the glint of dark metal. She fought the temptation to look.

“You’re talking about executing people for pre-crime. Brenda, that’s insane.”

“It’s insane to play Russian roulette with public safety. This isn’t science fiction, Colly. You saw those scans at Niall’s. We have the technology to know who’s dangerous—we’ve had it for decades. We can’t afford to dither.”

Brenda was so caught up in her argument that she had stopped moving, while Colly continued to inch towards her. Suddenly aware of this, Brenda scrambled back several feet. Now, with the slightest turn of her head, she would be staring directly at the person by the wall.

Keep her talking, no matter what , Colly thought. “If you’re so proud of killing Denny, why’d you hide it? Why bother with the intricate cover-up?”

“Do you think I’d let Lowell raise Logan and Minnie by himself? They need me.”

The shadowy figure crept closer. It was now within twenty feet of Brenda and Satchel.

“You weren’t a suspect—what was the point of framing Willis?” Colly asked.

“Haven’t you been listening? Willis was more dangerous than Denny ever was. The Rangers’ investigation was stalled. I had to do something.”

“So you planted those masks in his nightstand.”

Brenda’s face clouded. “I thought the one on Denny would be enough. But the DA’s a Newland lapdog—he wouldn’t indict Willis without more evidence.”

Satchel was crying harder now and had begun to squirm. His feet clattered against the plywood siding of the pen. The snakes, agitated by the noise, began to rattle angrily.

Satchel’s movements sent the red balloon bouncing erratically into Brenda’s face. “Hold still,” she snapped, thrusting the balloon into his arms. Sobbing, he clutched it against his chest like a security blanket.

While Brenda was distracted, Colly managed a furtive glance at the figure by the wall. It was Russ. A gun was in his hand. Their eyes met, and he nodded.

Brenda’s tussle with Satchel had repositioned her so that her back was now to Russ. Colly took a step closer. “I’ve gotta hand it to you—those masks were the perfect red herring.”

“I got the idea from Niall. He talks in his sleep.”

“You mentioned that on Monday, but it didn’t click for me till today. Did you steal them from his place?”

Brenda shook her head. “I bought them online. I knew if Willis was convicted a second time, he’d get the death penalty. No governor would dare release him again, even if he was a Newland.” Brenda adjusted her grip on Satchel. Her fingernails bit into his arms. “I didn’t plan to kill Willis—it’s not something I enjoyed doing. It just kind of happened.”

Colly stared at her. “You—you killed him, too?” she stammered. “The ME ruled it an accident.”

“It was an accident—sort of. I slipped away from Iris’s birthday party to put the masks in his cabin. That’s all I meant to do. But when I got there, I saw him in his herpetarium, and I realized how easy it would be to get a rabbit out of the hutch and just—just toss it in.” She pantomimed the action with her free hand. “That snake of his would take care of things.”

At this, Russ stopped short. He swayed against the wall for a second before recovering himself and pushing forward. Outside, Colly heard the low rumble of thunder.

“The perfect murder,” she said, keeping her eyes on Brenda. “Only one problem—Willis was innocent. He didn’t kill Adam Parker, and he didn’t molest Dave Carroway. He didn’t do anything to anyone.”

Brenda blinked. “You’re lying. I saw his brain scan myself.”

“Brain scans don’t make serial killers—look in the mirror if you need proof of that.”

“This conversation’s pointless. You’re like everyone else—talk, talk, talk. What good is that? Someone has to have the guts to do what’s necessary.” As she spoke, Brenda slipped one arm beneath Satchel’s legs and lifted him higher.

He shrieked, and Colly’s breath caught in her throat. “Brenda, don’t.”

“I’m sorry. He’s got all the signs—incontinence, pyromania, antisocial behavior. I wasn’t totally sure till he killed Minnie’s hamster last night. That was the last straw.”

“You can’t be totally sure—you haven’t done a brain scan.”

“You’ve forced the issue. I’ve got no choice now.” Brenda hoisted Satchel onto the plywood wall of the snake pen as he flailed and screamed. The slightest nudge and he would topple in.

“Satchel, hold still. Brenda, for God’s sake—he’s seven.”

Russ was now fifteen feet behind Brenda. Though still by the wall, he could reach her in three quick strides. Colly silently willed him to stay where he was, afraid that any sudden movement would spell disaster. She needed a distraction, something—anything—to buy time.

“Brenda, listen.” She took another tentative step forward. “You don’t want to do this. It’s Satchel . Remember when Victoria got pregnant in high school and said she wanted to keep the baby? You were the first person I called. I was freaking out, and you said if we supported her decision, we’d be glad of it later.”

Brenda was listening, her eyes dark and distrustful. Satchel had grown still, though he was crying quietly.

Colly sidled nearer. “That night, I told Randy what you said. It took him a couple months, but eventually he got excited about being a grandpa. And you were right. Satchel’s such a great kid. I can’t imagine life without him.” She edged closer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Colly saw that Russ had moved away from the wall and was beginning to inch towards Brenda from behind. He was ten feet away, eight feet away. But she didn’t dare wave him off. She could only pray that he would follow her lead.

Keeping her focus on Brenda, she slipped her gun into its holster and held up her hands. “We’re just talking, Bren. I’m not going to hurt you. And I know you don’t really want to hurt Satchel.”

He had stopped crying and was staring intently at her, sniffling and hiccupping quietly. Colly took another step. Three feet more, and she’d be close enough to touch him. It took all her willpower not to reach for him now. She gave him a reassuring smile.

“Of course I don’t want to hurt him,” Brenda said hoarsely. “If you think I do, you haven’t been listening.”

“I am listening, Bren. I know you’re not a bad person. You’ve had a stressful few years, and you’ve gotten a little confused.”

Russ was now five feet behind Brenda. He looked like a cat crouched to spring.

Oh, shit, oh shit , Colly thought. It’s now or never. “Let me help, Bren. Just give me Satchel.”

Brenda said nothing. Thunder rolled above them once again.

“Brenda, look at his face. He’s just a scared little boy. Put him down.”

“I can’t. He’s too dangerous.”

“Yes, you can.” Colly reached out, intending to give Brenda’s arm a gentle, cajoling tug.

But at that moment, Russ dropped his gun and lunged, flinging his arms around Brenda from behind. With a shriek, she let go of Satchel and stumbled backwards. Russ lost his balance, and the two of them toppled over in a thrashing heap.

Released suddenly from Brenda’s grasp, Satchel teetered on the brink of the snake pen, flailing as he fought for balance. Colly sprang forward, but just then the red balloon, bobbing wildly with Satchel’s arm movements, bounced in front of her eyes. She swatted it away and grabbed for his t-shirt, but too late. With a shrill scream, Satchel tumbled into the enclosure.