The Drowning Child
Page 30
‘OK!’ said Ren. ‘OK! OK! OK! I won’t. I won’t.’ She slumped down in the chair and cried, and cried and cried.
Can’t blink back a flood.
That evening, Ren sat on the sofa with a bottle of red wine, her phone in her hand.
Phones are a disaster. It’s too fucking easy.
It’s too hard.
She scrolled down, stopped at Joe Lucchesi.
He’s met someone else.
In twenty-four hours …
She lowered her thumb on to his number.
Don’t.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I’m the wrong person to put that question to.
The phone started to ring.
He picked up. ‘Hey …’ There was a smile in his voice.
‘Hey.’ She took a breath. ‘So I’m sorry about the last call. I was … tired.’ Jesus! ‘I … had a lot going on. I’m sorry. My head is a little all over the place.’
Why can’t I just be honest?
‘Really?’ he said.
Nice teasing. He knows. He knows me already. Black Mark Number 1. ‘How are you so sane, though? Seriously.’
‘I am seriously not sane.’
‘You’re doing a lot better than me.’ You don’t know that.
‘For someone who likes evidence to back things up …’ said Joe.
‘No, I don’t,’ said Ren. ‘Shit. That’s where I’m going wrong.’ In all aspects of my life. ‘I’m not sure I am always driven by evidence.’ I come up with shit and decide it’s the reality. Which part of bipolar … ‘I think this might be a changing day in my life’.
‘Don’t be so quick to presume you know what’s going on with me,’ said Joe. ‘I’m under no illusions – I know I come with … history.’
Like, of the Roman Empire.
‘And with more baggage than most,’ said Joe.
Like those trucks beside aircraft.
‘But,’ he said, ‘you can ask me anything and I’ll give you an honest answer.’
Unlike me.
‘Don’t be fooled by this tough exterior.’ He laughed.
‘Well, I can’t ask for fairer than that,’ said Ren. ‘While we’re getting it all out there, I’m an emotional cripple. You can ask me anything, but I probably won’t be honest. Not in a bad way, but I think there’s some override switch that, if anything is too roaring red of an emotional hotspot, these little builders come in with fire bricks.’
Joe laughed. ‘Well, that was pretty honest.’
‘Pretty … exactly.’ She paused. ‘OK – here’s a question: what’s been going on in your world? I didn’t even ask last time, sorry.’ I was too busy panicking.
‘Work and Grace,’ said Joe. ‘Which means assholes mixed in with ballet classes, the zoo, Frozen, playgrounds, frozen playgrounds …’
‘I’m sure you meet assholes in playgrounds too,’ said Ren.
And moms who want to fuck you. If they only knew how amazing you are, you’d never make it out of the playground alive.
‘How is Grace?’ said Ren.
‘Well, she’s twirling around here with her hand out for the phone, so I’ll let her tell you herself.’
She could hear the scuffle of Joe handing the phone over.
‘Hi, Ren! It’s Grace! Will you please come to my birthday party?’
Ren and Joe laughed.
‘Daddy said you come to New York sometimes!’
‘Well, yes,’ said Ren. ‘I go visit my family.’
‘Daddy said come at the exact same time as my birthday! I’m having a clown!’
Clown? Fuck, no. ‘Well, thank you so much, Grace. I would love to come. I’ll definitely see what I can do.’
‘She said yes!’ said Grace.
Ren laughed again. Joe came back on the phone, laughing too.
‘You haven’t given her the John Wayne Gacy talk, then …’
‘I’m holding out for her tenth birthday,’ said Joe. He lowered his voice. ‘I did not know she was going to ask you that.’
‘I don’t think you’re a master puppeteer somehow,’ said Ren. ‘So, what date is her birthday?’
‘June sixth. She’s an organizer, this one.’
‘That’s hilarious. Well, she’s definitely given me enough notice …’
But are we all just assuming that I’m going to be around in three months’ time? Jesus. I don’t know how I feel about that.
Why don’t I ever fucking know?
You do know. This is so boring.
‘But I hope I get to see you before June …’ said Joe.
Ren smiled. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’ Way too much. I hate this. My stomach. My heart. My limits …
‘I’m … glad you called,’ said Joe.
Where did that come from?
‘I thought you’d run away,’ he said.
From that kind of sex?
Nice try.
‘No,’ said Ren.
‘I’m thinking you did … for a little while,’ said Joe.
Damn you! ‘I ran maybe as far as …’ The place where all the tears were. The place I didn’t want to reach. The place I couldn’t bear to be. To come back to the scariest place I’ve ever been in my life.
Fuck. What am I doing?
‘Are you still there?’ said Joe.
Ren paused. ‘I’m still here.’
You, me … and our fucked-up hearts.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my agent, Marianne Gunn O’Connor, and to Vicki Satlow, and Pat Lynch.
Thank you to my skilled and patient editor, Sarah Hodgson.
Thank you to Charlie Redmayne for being brilliant.
Thank you to Kate Elton and all the hardworking team at HarperCollins.
Thank you to HarperCollins Creative Director, Claire Ward, for the perfect cover.
Thank you to the HarperCollins Ireland team: Tony Purdue, Mary Byrne, and Ann-Marie Dolan.
To Anne O’Brien, thank you for your exceptional copy-editing skills, and Alex-Barclay channeling.
To gifted playwright, screenwriter, and comedy genius, Kefi Chadwick, thank you for all the Anam Cara good times. And a specific thank you, in this case, for coming up with my title.
Thank you to all the experts who gave so generously of their time. Any mistakes are mine.
To SA Phil Niedringhaus, thank you once again for answering my FBI and CARD team questions. Apologies for some of Ren’s poorer choices …
Thank you to Aquatic Death Investigator, Andrea Zaferes, for her fascinating insight into homicidal drowning, and for the resulting plot inspiration.
Thank you to Chantelle Newman for further research material on drowning deaths, and great conversations.
Thank you, Anne Driscoll and David Langwallner of the Irish Innocence Project at Griffith College for your enlightenment on the heartbreaking reality of wrongful conviction.
To Michael Dobersen, MD, Forensic Pathologist, thank you for your invaluable notes on the autopsy scenes.
Thank you, Professor Marie Cassidy, for your help on skeletal remains.
Thank you, Lee S. Webster, for your friendship, and for your generosity in making connections.
Thank you to Danielle Corazza for your guidance in military matters.
Thank you to Edward Kroll for answering my questions on Oregon law.
Thank you, Sue Booth-Forbes, the heart and soul of Anam Cara – the best writers’ and artists’ retreat in the world.
Thanks also to you and your sister Diane for granting me the privilege of opening my book with your father’s stunning poem.
To my beautiful sister, Lanes. You are, among other things, kind, caring, generous, and cheerleading. If I had a banana sandwich for every time you were there for me …
To all my family: you are amazing and supportive and funny and beloved.
Thank you, Dick Tobin, for your excellent feedback and kind words.
To Noleen, thank you for your hard work and thoughtfulness.
Endless love to my gorgeous friends and their epic undertaking. You know who you are. But stiiiill: Aideen, Bernice, Brian, David, Derek, Elena, Emmy, Eoin, Ger, Gerry, Julie, Majella, Mary, Sue, and Vanessa. Medals all round.
If you enjoyed The Drowning Child, try the previous book in the Ren Bryce series:
In the game of vengeance, he holds a killer hand.
Click here to buy Killing Ways
About the Author
Alex Barclay lives in County Cork, Ireland. She is the bestselling author of Darkhouse, The Caller, Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss, Harm’s Reach and Killing Ways.
For more information about Alex Barclay and her books, please visit her website, www.alexbarclay.co.uk
Also by Alex Barclay
Darkhouse
The Caller
Blood Runs Cold
Time of Death
Blood Loss
Harm’s Reach
Killing Ways
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