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can't-live-with-her/him; can't-live-without-her/him school--ft111 of passion,
jealousy, estrangements, and reconciliations.
The desert sky over the Superstition Mountains had faded
from the peach and yellow striations of sunset to deep black by
the time Steve's roommate--advised of the tragedy in a phone call from
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Wes--located him. The man blurted out that all three o1
SMALL SACRIFICES 41
Steve's kids had been shot. Steve's new girlfriend drove him to
Oregon.
Steve Downs had no idea how it could have happened. He
berated himself silently for letting his kids go away as he sat, wide
awake, amid his dozing fellow passengers.
Roy Pond and Springfield Detective Al Hartman had been dispatched
to Heather Plourd's trailer. They drove north on Marcola
Road, and turned right onto Sunderman Road, a weathered asphalt
path through the woods. Gnarled maples and oaks leaned
over the road, giving the sensation of driving through a tunnel.
The air was damper here, and colder.
As they approached the far end of Sunderman, which--like
Old Mohawk--hooked into Marcola Road at each end, the road
broke out of the woods. There were cleared fields here and a
small cluster of mobile homes on the left side of the road. Pond
shone his flashlight on the mailboxes and read "Plourd."
The trailers were dark. Pond had a discomfiting feeling. This
road was so like Old Mohawk; he wondered if Diane might have
been holding back for some reason nobody knew yet. The shooting
might have taken place here. The detectives walked cautiously
up to the porch of the mobile home and knocked, waited, and
knocked again. Finally they heard movement inside.
A sleepy young couple opened the door. Heather Plourd
verified that Diane Downs had come to visit her earlier.
"She came driving up in her red car around eight thirty or
nine. I was shocked to see her because she had only been hereg
once before, about three weeks ago. She drove over then to ask" me to work a
shift for her so she could fly to Arizona. She had the
three kids with her tonight. I went outside to talk to her. She told roe she
had found an ad in the paper about adopting a horse. I
said we'd just bought a horse, and we couldn't handle another
¦ne. Her kids played with our new horse for a few minutes while I ^Iked with
Diane."
Diane hadn't seemed upset and she wasn't in a hurry when ^e left, although
Heather had the impression that she had some-
here else to go. Heather was sure Diane hadn't been drinking ^d wasn't under
the influence of drugs.
"Why are you asking me all these questions?" she asked ^ond. "Has there been
an accident?"
42 ANN RULE
Pond hesitated; the woman's story certainly sounded straight.
"It's a very serious matter," he answered cryptically. "You'll probably find
out about it later on today. Do you own any
firearms?" a
"No." 1
The Plourds said they had two children, who were asleep.
Pond asked to see them. Puzzled, Heather led the detectives
through the trailer and showed them a little boy and girl. The
investigators were relieved. It was apparent that nothing violent
had happened here. Whoever the Downs family had encountered
had come upon them after they left the Plourd's trailer.
Pond headed to join Welch, Tracy, and several Springfield officers
at the Downses' duplex on Q Street. Diane had given them the
key to the unit. She'd carried no purse--just her house and car
key on a ring she'd fished out of her jeans pocket.
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The apartments were bland, two-storied boxes, built for economy.
The double units bulked around a cul-de-sac, and faced the
1-105 freeway. In the dark, they were no-color; in the daylight
they were all the same dull brown. There were a few desultory
rhododendrons edging the communal lawn. Somewhere in the
shadows beyond the porchlights, a dog barked frantically.
But the investigators had found no one inside--nothing to
indicate someone had been waiting there for Diane to come back,
no ground-out cigarette butts or empty beer bottles. The television
sets were cold.
Tracy and Welch had surveyed the downstairs first--a livingroom/dining-room
and a kitchen. The place was almost empty; it
looked as if someone had moved in only a day or so before,
leaving boxes to-be unpacked after a good night's sleep.
Tracy shook his head, puzzled. "Didn't she say they moved
up here at Eastertime?"
"Yeah," Welch nodded. "Pretty bare bones here, isn't it?"
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