Time of Death rb-2

by Alex Barclay

‘As far as I know, no.’

  ‘Was there another reason for you to meet Douglas Hammond?’

  ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘And, for the record, I did not kill him.’

  ‘No one’s accusing you of being a killer,’ said Glenn. He paused. ‘Do you know the expression, “the point of no return”? Well, I’m here. And what a great location it is.’

  The world was no longer a wonderful, magical place to Glenn Buddy.

  ‘I have allowed you in further to this than I should have,’ said Glenn. ‘I’ve made a huge mistake. And you’ve helped me make it. I was doing you a favor and now I feel manipulated.’

  The darkest place is often to be found on the wrong side of the sunniest person. ‘What? You think you can’t trust me?’

  Glenn Buddy’s face was all the answer she needed.

  ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘I know. But…please. From here on, I promise, I will ask you for nothing. And right here, right now, I can promise that there is nothing I have done that you need to—

  Ren’s cell phone rang. She glanced down. ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my brother. It’s a family…issue.’ Jay, of all people, to the rescue.

  Glenn gestured that he was going to go out for a cigarette. Ren nodded. She answered the call.

  ‘Hi, Jay.’

  ‘I was talking to Mom,’ he said, straight in. Just like mother.

  ‘And?’

  ‘She found out that Dad went to see Daryl Stroud.’

  ‘And?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, do you think that was wise?’ said Jay.

  ‘If I thought it was unwise, would I have suggested that Dad do it?’

  ‘Well, I think it was unwise.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘OK, what?’

  ‘You have your opinion and I have mine. Mine happens to be shared by Dad and Matt.’

  ‘You made Dad go and talk to Daryl.’

  ‘Are you for real?’ said Ren. ‘He’s a grown man. I suggested it. He was happy to do it.’

  ‘You know he would do anything for you.’

  ‘As he would for any of us. Including Beau,’ said Ren. ‘So, Dad paid Daryl a visit. It’s not like he was going to compromise the entire investigation and Beau’s reputation because of something I suggested he do. You are being ridiculous.’

  ‘You can be very reactive, Ren,’ said Jay. ‘And impulsive.’

  ‘So, if I say “fuck you” right now, will that fall under one of those categories? Will that have no merit either?’

  ‘I don’t want to get into anything,’ said Jay.

  ‘So calling me was meant to, what…?’

  ‘To let you know to step back,’ said Jay. ‘And…not to make things any worse for Mom and Dad. They’re very vulnerable.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ren, ‘you’re acting like I’m a door-to-door salesman looking to scam the elderly out of their life savings. Give me a break. And why, in God’s name, did you tell them about that fling I had?’

  ‘How do you know I told them?’

  ‘Oh, please. Like Matt would,’ said Ren. ‘That stuff is my business, Jay. Do you understand that concept?’

  ‘Matt mentioned it to me, that’s all,’ said Jay.

  ‘To you,’ said Ren. ‘Not to anyone else. And not, I would imagine, in a gossipy way. Why the hell would I tell Mom and Dad that kind of shit?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t know why the hell you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ said Ren. ‘That still doesn’t make it your call. Will you ever, ever respect someone else’s wishes? Ever?’

  ‘Maybe I was just looking out for you,’ said Jay.

  ‘How exactly was that looking out for me?’

  ‘Well, maybe these flings aren’t good for you.’

  Ren exploded. ‘How fucking dare you! Where do you get off—’

  ‘Go ahead, Ren, fight with the world.’

  ‘I am not fighting with the world,’ said Ren. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘You’re so angry.’

  ‘I am not angry.’

  ‘Yes, you are. It’s unbelievable.’

  ‘Did you ever think I’m just angry with you?’ said Ren. ‘The world is fine from where I’m standing. Maybe I’m just fighting with you.’

  ‘Me?’ said Jay.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Ren.

  ‘Oh, grow up,’ said Jay. ‘“Nothing” – you’re like a child, Ren.’

  ‘You are the most patronizing…fuck you.’

  ‘Do you behave like this at work?’

  ‘Oh my God, what in the hell does that have to do with anything? Work? Is that what’s important here? How I am in work? What are you going to do, call my boss? See how I’ve been doing?’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You know nothing about me. You have no clue. And do you know why? Because you don’t listen. Because you think you are better than everyone. You judge. You watch and you judge. And it’s the Jay filter. Which is a shit filter. And do you want to know why?’

  ‘Sure, Ren, go ahead: why?’

  ‘Because…why did you go to Mom and Dad about me?’

  ‘Huh?’ said Jay. ‘What are you—’

  ‘I covered your ass. Why did you go to Mom and Dad about me drinking?’

  ‘Are you talking about when you were fifteen?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Ren.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Jay.

  ‘You told Mom and Dad that I was drinking. Two beers!’

  ‘Are you actually talking about—’

  ‘I’m talking about Beau!’ shouted Ren. ‘Why wasn’t it Beau that you told on?’ She held back tears, but her voice was cracking. ‘Why didn’t you tell them about Beau? Why didn’t you tell them he had been smoking shit every night? Why didn’t you say that he had a little bag of pills he carried around with him? You knew. I know you knew. So, fuck you. You didn’t over-ride him when he asked you to keep a secret. You over-rode me. And you were wrong. Hasn’t that ever entered your head? Ever? You were wrong. You picked the wrong fucking sibling to rat out.’

  She slammed the phone down.

  Glenn Buddy coughed.

  Ren swung around. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘I just caught from “so, fuck you” onwards.’

  ‘Right…’ What did you hear? I can’t even remember what I said.

  ‘Do you always talk to your brother that way?’ said Glenn. ‘Was that your important call?’

  ‘There are extenuating circumstances.’

  Glenn took a seat opposite her again. ‘Are you taking any of this seriously? I come here to talk to you about your close connection with a murdered judge and you take a personal call?’

  ‘I am taking everything seriously,’ said Ren. ‘This is very important. And so was that other call. You’ll just have to—’

  ‘Don’t tell me – trust you?’

  Ren let out a breath.

  ‘I don’t have a lot of time, here,’ said Glenn. ‘I just want to know is there anything else you’re not telling me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Agent Bryce, you know the position I’m in here. I am investigating the death of a federal judge. You are with the FBI. And Cliff James was the best man at my wedding. Do you see where I’m at?’

  Oh, God, I do. ‘I understand, Glenn. I really do. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your position.’

  My own, however, is a different story…

  39

  One week earlier

  By a stand of trees on a quiet Genesee road, Douglas Hammond was parked in his green BMW. Ren jogged up to the passenger door. Hammond unlocked the door and she sat in.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ said Hammond.

  Jesus, ‘Thanks for coming?’

  He looked at her expression. ‘Well, you might not have.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  Their breaths were white in the cold air. Hammond’s
hairline was dotted with tiny beads of sweat.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘Why am I here?’

  ‘I am highly recommending that you give up your psych files,’ said Hammond.

  Ren stared at him. ‘How do you know—’

  ‘Just do it,’ said Hammond. ‘Just back down.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because I am meeting you on a dark road in the middle of the night to tell you to.’

  ‘You don’t even know me,’ said Ren.

  ‘I asked around.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘You don’t back down,’ said Hammond.

  ‘When I have no reason to, no,’ said Ren.

  ‘Trust me, you have every reason to.’

  ‘What are you talking about? What could possibly interest you in those files?’

  Hammond looked at her. ‘You’re shivering,’ he said. ‘Are you cold?’

  Ren frowned. ‘Yes.’

  He glanced at the heating dial, but didn’t move. Ren turned on the heating, blasting hot air from a loud fan.

  For a moment, they sat in silence.

  ‘I didn’t just hear that you wouldn’t back down…There was a lot more to hear about Agent Ren Bryce.’

  Ren’s anger was spiking, but she held her hands still and she kept her breathing under control. And it didn’t quite work. ‘I am sorry,’ said Ren, her voice quickly rising, ‘but I have no clue what the point of all this is. It is passive/aggressive bullshit. You have power, Your Honor, you don’t need to get cryptic with me. You shouldn’t need something to get an extra little kick. I’ve driven all the way out here in the pitch dark.’

  Hammond was staring straight ahead.

  You smug prick. She turned and grabbed the door handle.

  ‘Agent Bryce, please.’

  She looked back at him. Holy shit. The fear in his eyes was stunning. Before Ren had time to react, he gripped her forearm and pulled her close. She could feel his hot breath in her ear. ‘You,’ he said, his voice barely audible, ‘you don’t know what you’re getting involved in.’

  ‘What the hell?’ said Ren, pulling her arm from his grip.

  Hammond let out a breath. ‘I’m getting the sense that within twenty-four hours, your file will be turned over to the taint team.’

  ‘Don’t trust your senses.’

  ‘Do it, Agent Bryce. Or maybe I’ll get your boss to back off. He might be interested in taking a look at your file.’ He was half-turned away from her, as if trying to physically end the conversation. She realized Hammond was shaking, and it had nothing to do with being cold.

  ‘Why didn’t you just call me instead of bringing me all the way out here?’ said Ren.

  Headlights struck up on the road behind them. Hammond jumped. His left arm seemed to spasm. Ren glanced down at it. He was holding his cell phone. He jerked it quickly toward her. There was a text message on the screen:

  this is not just about the psych 345

  He hit delete. Ren opened her mouth to speak, but when she looked into Hammond’s eyes – black with fear – she stopped dead.

  This is not just about the psych 345? WTF?

  40

  Ren sat in a window seat on the flight to Nogales. Ren liked aisle seats, but today she was wedged in by a skinny child with a giant backpack at his feet. He was playing a Nintendo DS with the sound on. Every beep was Chinese water torture. Ren glanced down at him. He gave her an adorable smile and raised the console a little to show he was doing well.

  Bless your heart.

  A wave of sadness swept over her – the boy was about eight years old, the same age Ren had been when she had the only childhood memory of not feeling quite right. In the middle of a burst of wonderful, uninhibited laughter with Matt, a thought had flashed into Ren’s mind: ‘But are you really laughing?’

  At the time, that thought had frightened her. And she buried it away. Every now and then, she would remember it and it still creeped her out. ‘But are you really laughing?’ It was like a voice from the dark side.

  Ren felt a tap on her elbow – the little boy beside her reached up to offer her some Skittles.

  Redemption.

  She almost cried. Sometimes strangers could blindside you with simple kindness. It was lonely being bipolar. And once you knew, you knew. Once a word leaves your mouth, you cannot chase it back even with the swiftest horse.

  There were times when Ren had expected a call from Helen saying, ‘I’m sorry, I made a mistake, you’re actually fine.’ Or she would come to the end of a session and Helen would rubber-stamp her file in red ink: SANE. And it was embarrassing that, at thirty-seven years of age, Ren still had that fantasy.

  Despite any or all signs to the contrary.

  She glanced at the screen of the boy’s DS. He was playing Mortal Kombat 3. R-rated. Two fighters were kicking the crap out of each other. The screen flashed Finish Him! Finish Him! The little kid beside her pummeled buttons until he threw his opponent down ten stories and impaled him on metal railings. Comedy blood spurted into the air, followed by an ultra-deep voiceover: ‘Sektor wins. Flawless Victory. Fatality.’

  The kid looked up at Ren, beaming.

  ‘Good job,’ she said.

  ‘I need to get as many fatalities as I can,’ he explained.

  ‘That’s cool.’ Some day I might meet you in a professional capacity.

  She lay back against the seat and thought again about how much Helen knew about her. And how she would guard that knowledge to the…fatality.

  This is not just about the psych 345. Ren had typed it into her own phone after she had met Douglas Hammond, and when she pressed 345, her predictive text gave a first option that was unsurprising under the circumstances: ‘fil’.

  This is not just about the psych files. What is it about, then?

  Luke Sarvas lay in his hospital bed with the silent television flickering light across him. Ren walked across the room and turned it off. He blinked his eyes with relief. Most of Luke Sarvas’ head was heavily bandaged. His face was destroyed. His right eye socket was impacted, his right jaw shattered and wired shut. Any unbandaged surface area was covered in superficial cuts and bruises. His lips were swollen and cracked, covered in a thick layer of Vaseline. There were bruises all over his neck. He kept his head still, but slid his gaze toward Ren. She introduced herself and sat on the chair by his bed.

  ‘Do you know how you got here?’

  He nodded.

  ‘What happened?’ She almost didn’t want him to speak, his lips looked so damaged.

  He opened his mouth slowly. The corners were dry and white and took time to break apart. It was hard to look at. ‘I…fell,’ he said.

  ‘From the border wall?’

  Luke nodded.

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  A fleeting frown crossed Luke’s face.

  ‘I spoke with your doctors,’ said Ren. ‘You have pretty severe crush injuries. Something fell on you.’

  Luke closed his eyes slowly. Bingo. But he shook his head slightly to disagree.

  ‘It’s a medical fact,’ said Ren.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her.

  ‘What fell on you?’ said Ren.

  He shook his head again. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘I’m going to backtrack. What happened in that SUV eight months ago?’

  He waited to answer. ‘I…can’t remember.’

  ‘You can’t remember anything?’ said Ren.

  ‘I can remember up to just before it happened.’ Every word came out painfully slowly.

  ‘So you don’t know who stopped the vehicle, what the chronology of events were, nothing?’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘So your memory was intact right up until that day.’

  He nodded.

  ‘In that case, tell me about Tijuana at spring break.’

  Luke’s eyes flashed, but he caught himself before they shot too wide.

  Got you, you
little shit. Ren watched as his faux-amnesiac brain flashed through what this FBI lady could possibly know about Tijuana.

  ‘I’m…tired.’

  Oh, please.

  He pressed his thumb down on the red call button. The challenge in his eyes was extraordinary.

  I want to put that pillow over your face, you lying little shit. ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘I’ll come visit again. And again. And again.’

  He turned his head to the wall. ‘Don’t bother.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Ren. ‘What did you just say?’

  He turned back toward her. ‘I said, “Don’t bother.”’ His voice had become very clear.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘No problem. It was nice to meet you.’ She stood up. ‘Oh – wait. I have to show you something. Where is it? Oh, yeah.’ She slipped her hand into her briefcase and pulled out a photo. ‘Here. Check this out.’ She pushed the photo into his face and pulled it back slowly so he could focus on it. ‘That’s you,’ she said. ‘And that guy with you? He’s your fifteen-year-old brother, Michael, who clearly thinks that the sun shines out of you. But after investigating that possibility, I beg to differ.’

  Luke’s mouth twitched. He blinked several times.

  ‘I’m going to leave this right here,’ said Ren, propping the photo up against his bedside lamp. ‘I know you’re in physical pain. But you’re not the poor little cripple you appear to be. I’ve seen many people with terrible injuries. And no matter how much training I’ve been given, I still find it very upsetting. And I would be very upset right now if I thought you were a one hundred per cent innocent victim. What happened to you, your father and your brother was appalling and you have my sympathy for that. But that sympathy waned just a little, right when I heard you try to deny those crush injuries.’ She picked up her briefcase. ‘I have a job to do.’ Ren walked to the door, but turned back as she opened it. ‘God help your mother and God help Michael.’

  She closed the door gently behind her.

  Catherine Sarvas stood nervously in the hallway outside the room.

  Nervous because she knew he would tell the FBI agent nothing.

  ‘Luke is saying that he doesn’t remember much of his accident,’ said Ren.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ said Catherine. ‘Which is probably a good thing.’