Blood Runs Cold rb-1

by Alex Barclay

  ‘No, I didn’t, actually.’ She looked around the room. ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t you get my texts? Didn’t you get my calls?’ said Gary. ‘Didn’t you hear your door getting banged on at midnight?’

  Ren’s heart started hammering.

  ‘Oh no – you didn’t,’ said Gary. ‘Because you were not there.’

  ‘I …’ am a bad liar. ‘I … had to go see Jean’s one-three-seven. There was a snowstorm. You might have seen it on the news this morning. It didn’t clear ’til six a. m.’

  ‘You were stuck in a shit-ass bar all night. Bummer,’ said Robbie.

  Gary’s expression had no empathy.

  ‘Why were you looking for me?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, unfortunately bank robbers have no consideration that we’re – most of us – an hour and a half away from Denver and it’s not too convenient to be roused from our cozy Breckenridge beds to go back and investigate the … worst robbery yet, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Most money?’ said Ren.

  ‘Most violent,’ said Gary.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Ren.

  Gary nodded. ‘It started about eight p.m. last night. The manager of the bank was sitting with his wife watching a movie. One of these goons shows up at the door in his nice blue and yellow shirt with a couple Blockbuster DVDs in his hand, so it looks like they’ve forgotten something or are getting some delivery, whatever. When they open the door, bam – four guys are inside, no masks. They get the couple into the living room and tie them up. Without saying one word. So this couple have no idea what is going on. And get this – the men really do have some DVDs to show them. Hardcore porn. Off the charts. And one of the guys zips open a sports bag. He gets the bank manager’s wife to kneel down and keep her eyes on the television set. Then behind her, so he thinks only the husband can see, he starts taking out every one of the fucked-up toys they’re using on the screen in front of them. And the wife’s watching all this in the reflection. Meanwhile, another one of these animals is literally jacking off in the corner. Then the first guy gets the remote control and pauses the movie.’ He turns to the husband and says:

  ‘Would you like to see this performed live?’

  This woman’s husband doesn’t even say no. Poor bastard just says, “You can do what you like to me. Please do not touch my wife.”’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Ren. ‘That is horrific.’

  ‘Then the guy with the sports bag leaves the jack-off guy with the toys and the wife – so you can imagine what happened next. And they killed the husband anyway.’

  ‘And the wife?’

  ‘Lived to tell that tale,’ said Gary.

  ‘Jesus Christ Almighty,’ said Ren. She sat down at her desk. ‘Is there any hope of her ID-ing these guys?’

  ‘Their faces reflected in a porn flick … not exactly ideal,’ said Gary.

  ‘Welcome to Colin Grabien’s mirror,’ said Ren. ‘And what about the bank?’

  ‘They brought the manager to the bank,’ said Gary. ‘He opened up. At this point they were wearing blank white masks. They got away with a hundred grand.’

  Ren nodded.

  ‘We didn’t catch it on camera,’ said Gary, ‘but someone did lose a mask at the scene. It’s gone to the lab. There were traces of saliva on it.’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Colin.

  ‘So we get blank masks,’ said Ren. ‘And saliva. Like, “We’re not giving you a mug shot this time, but we’re giving you DNA”?’ said Ren. ‘Something tells me that DNA is not going to be worth shit.’

  Nobody responded.

  A chill ran across Ren’s shoulders. She shook it away.

  ‘So,’ said Gary. ‘Billy Waites …’

  ‘Billy Waites,’ said Ren. ‘The Brockton Filly is in an excellent location for through-traffic, so a lot of people stop off there. You’ve got I 70 to Breck. Then south on Highway 9 past Quandary, then you’re through to Alma, Fairplay, then Highway 285 back to Denver – basically the back route. You’ve got properties on huge tracts of land there …’ Everyone is looking at me.

  Gary was frowning. ‘And Billy Waites himself?’

  ‘Yes, well, I trust that Jean Transom trusted him, for one,’ said Ren. ‘So that’s what I was saying about the location. He sees a lot. He could be very useful. And, yes, he is a smart guy, as you said, Gary. So he’s a good person to have on our side.’

  ‘You think he is on our side?’ said Colin.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Ren.

  Bob Gage stuck his head in the door. ‘Ren, you have a visitor. Patrick Transom is in the conference room, he’d like to talk to you.’

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Ren glanced at Gary as if he would go talk to Patrick instead. He looked like he hadn’t heard any of it.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks, Bob. Could you tell him one minute?’

  Patrick Transom was sitting forward on his seat, his hands clasped in front of him on the conference-room table.

  ‘Hello, Mr Transom.’ Ren stood up and shook his hand.

  ‘Hello, Agent Bryce.’

  ‘Please call me Ren.’

  ‘OK. And call me Patrick. I just want you to know I’m not someone who would normally just show up like this, so I’m sorry, but I guess I’m feeling at arm’s length. I know you don’t need family members bearing down on you when you’re trying to do your job. But … I’ve left messages and … I felt you would be the type of agent who would return them. That’s the impression I got from you when I met you.’

  I am like that. I – normally – am. ‘Thank you, yes. But it’s been extremely busy here,’ said Ren. ‘We have so many agents working on it, the detectives from the Sheriff’s Office … and every phone call, witness statement and lead is being followed up on. As you can imagine, this is generating even more leads, and on it goes. To be honest, I wanted to make a phone call to you that was – “OK, Mr Transom, we have these solid leads and they are XYZ …” As it stands – and I hope this doesn’t sound negative – I have not got enough to raise your hopes or mine.’ That, and the fact that I was too busy fucking a C.I. last night.

  Patrick looked crushed. ‘Even if I knew that,’ he said. ‘That would help. I might be able to manage my expectations. I mean, should I give up on you ever finding the body?’

  Yes. ‘It’s not my place to tell people what they should or should not give up on. It’s your call. But I will say that I think it’s important we all stay positive. Things are moving along. But it’s a waiting game.’ I can’t believe I used that expression.

  ‘It’s hard to wait,’ said Patrick. ‘I didn’t want any of this. The last person I thought I’d be was someone who had to show up at a Sheriff’s Office to ask about the investigation into their sister’s murder.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry you had to show up here at all,’ said Ren. ‘It shouldn’t have come to that.

  I … don’t think I got those messages about you calling.’ Shut up.

  His face changed. ‘Well, I did leave them,’ he said. His voice was tight.

  ‘Because we’re in temporary offices at the moment, we can all be quite hard to pin down. There’s a lot of coming and going,’ said Ren.

  Patrick stood up. ‘Well, I’m going to leave you to it, Ren,’ he said. ‘Thank you for taking the time. And … I have a good feeling about you. That you’re going to find … the person who did this.’

  Jesus Christ. I deserve this today. ‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘I promise I will do everything I can.’

  As soon as he left, she ran to the ladies’ room and threw up. I am a loser. I am a terrible human being. I’m not human, in fact. She washed her face at the sink. As she was drying it with paper towels, the phone beeped.

  Hey. Hw r u? Billy.

  Ren’s heart started pounding. She deleted the text. She brushed her teeth, fixed her face and tried to do as much of it as she could without looking herself in the eye. She ran into Mike in the hallway outside.

  ‘Hey, Ren.’

&nbs
p; ‘Hey, Mike.’

  ‘I was looking into the RUTH folder for you,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t track down who “Ruth” was. There was no corresponding file in Jean’s office or on her computer, so it was a dead end. I did talk to the parents of the other children in that file, or the children themselves – some of whom are adults now. Jean hadn’t been in contact with any of them any time recently.’

  ‘It’s weird that the folder is called RUTH and Ruth is the one girl whose file isn’t in the folder.’

  Mike shrugged. ‘I know.’

  That night, Ren sat by the payphone at the inn with a ten-dollar phone card she’d bought at City Market. She barely knew how to use one. She scratched off the number with her nail, dialed a central number, punched in a code, dialed another number. There was a long wait before she was connected.

  Billy picked up. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Billy. It’s Ren Bryce.’

  ‘Hey. Did you get home OK?’ said Billy.

  ‘Yes … I got your text.’

  ‘When I didn’t hear back … I was just wondering if you were OK.’

  ‘I’m fine, but …’ She ran through the ways to say it, ‘you can’t text me on my cell … unless it’s work, unless you have information, need me to come in …’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound –’

  ‘Look, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

  Ren breathed out slowly. ‘I’m not going to say “Can we pretend this didn’t happen?” because that wouldn’t be very nice. But –’

  ‘– can we pretend this didn’t happen?’

  ‘Well, I feel bad. I don’t know what to say. I did … have a great time.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘So does that mean you don’t require my services any more?’

  Silence.

  ‘Ren?’ He waited. ‘Jesus, I meant my services – my work for you guys.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Ren. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you were being an asshole.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was firm.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So does this mean you won’t be stopping by again?’ said Billy.

  ‘No. I have to stop by again. I can’t not stop by. What I’m saying is, it needs to be … I need to be professional.’

  ‘OK …’

  ‘The kids here are going to think I’m nuts,’ said Ren. ‘I’m clearly not on vacation. In my business suit. Using the payphone…’

  ‘They probably think you’re tight. That you’re going to fill the communal refrigerator with food that is covered in stickers with your name on.’

  ‘I can’t find my permanent-ink Sharpie anywhere.’

  ‘I borrowed it to write your name on the label of the underwear you left behind … O-renda. So I can keep track.’

  Ren laughed. ‘Ugh.’

  ‘I can only joke about it because it’s not true,’ said Billy.

  ‘Yes. I had my underwear on when I left.’

  ‘I meant it’s not true I need to keep track … seriously.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really, actually.’

  ‘Well, that’s, I guess, good to know.’

  ‘Just in case you were wondering.’

  I was. ‘I wasn’t, don’t worry.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘I’d better get to bed.’

  ‘I hope it’s more comfortable than last night’s.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ Even though there was comfort to be found … in Billy Waites’ arms.

  Ren lay staring. She had drawn the heavy drapes across the bedroom window, blocking the snowy view on to the street. Her heart beat too quickly, her breathing was off. Rushes of heat and nausea swept over her. The clock read one a. m., then two, then three. And as it finally flashed four, every negative sensation sharpened and spiraled and became connected and expanded and hammered at her.

  She sat up. She took a drink from the bottle of water on the night stand. There was a lavender candle beside it. Do these really work? She lit it anyway. But the flame was so small, it was swallowedinto the dark.

  35

  Ren woke the next morning at seven and texted Gary.

  Cn we meet 2day?

  Y. Whn?

  7.30?

  OK.

  Ren liked to have an hour to get ready in the morning. Not any more. She left the inn with minimum makeup and wet hair. By seven twenty-five she was in the conference room with a giant coffee and a toasted sesame bagel.

  ‘Hey,’ said Gary, walking in. He took the seat beside her. ‘What’s this all about?’

  Ren looked at him and wondered how things would change if her answer was, I slept with Billy Waites. She looked at him and said instead, ‘The investigation. I’m getting a little anxious …’

  ‘OK. Talk to me.’

  ‘Well, I have nothing.’

  ‘I can tell you that’s not true, for a start. Everything that could be followed up on, has been. And what we have done is to rule out a hell of a lot already.’

  ‘I’m fine with the ruling out if I’ve got lots of ruling in going on too,’ said Ren. ‘I’m like, “What the fuck happened to you, Jean?”’

  ‘Ren – you’ll answer that yourself. If you start thinking that you won’t, it’ll be reflected in your work. Begin every day like it’s the first day of the investigation.’

  ‘That’s good advice. Thanks.’

  ‘So, give me updates.’

  ‘It seems to be just me getting hunches about people. This guy who drinks at the Brockton Filly – creepy. Caroline Quaintance – lying, even though the animal shelter people had only glowing reports on her; her bosses the same.’

  I won’t mention Misty.

  ‘Ren, your hunches are usually very good,’ said Gary.

  I hope so. ‘I feel bad because, in a fucked-up way, I wish Jean Transom had had more going on in her life to give us a wider scope. She lived in a tiny little world and I still can’t seem to navigate my way around it.’

  ‘Ren, it’s not all about you,’ said Gary. His voice was kind. ‘You’re having a day of doubt. So put that aside and turn this all outwards, OK?’

  ‘Ugh. You’re right.’

  ‘Go, do it. OK?’

  ‘Thanks, Gary.’

  She went to the kitchen to make coffee and eat cookies she didn’t like or want. She was alone. She sat at the table and closed her eyes. I need to separate the part of Billy Waites that is under my skin from the part of Billy Waites that should be under investigation. I need to take a little step back right now – I am too close. And personal.

  She grabbed her coffee, went back to her desk and opened the Mark Wilson file again. Wilson had stayed in the hostel part of The Cheapshot Inn the month before he died. Why does The Cheapshot Inn sound familiar? She remembered. The Welcome Center.

  The Welcome Center had barely opened for the day, but the manager let Ren in. She went quickly to the display she was looking for: the photo montage of Ridge Street through the decades. In one of the photos, a sign swung from the branch of a stooping oak, most of its letters hidden by the leaves: The Cheapshot Inn. And in smaller print, Est. 1962. Except that it was no longer an inn. Ren knew what someone would find now if they walked through the door – the dark, narrow hallway that led to Dr Charlie Barger.

  The manager came over to her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

  ‘Yes, there is, as a matter of fact,’ said Ren.

  She pointed to the photo. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about The Cheapshot Inn.’

  ‘Charlie Barger’s place? Well, it’s closed now. He closed it last December.’

  Who closes an inn in Breckenridge during peak season?

  ‘And it’s been an inn since 1962?’ said Ren.

  He nodded. ‘His father set it up – Emil Barger. He was part of a small group that ended up owning a big part of Breckenridge, but I guess instead of steamrollering his way in,
he kind of rode in on a white horse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, this would have been in the sixties, when the town was going through a slump. The economy needed these guys – and they knew it. The difference with Barger was that he gave back. He lobbied for affordable housing, he paid his workers well, he took care of people …’

  ‘How did he end up owning part of Breckenridge?’ said Ren.

  ‘Barger was a 10th Mountain vet. And, like all the others, when he came back from the war, he was looking for something to do. These guys had trained for years before they were sent to Europe, so these were some skilled mountain men. They fought well in the war and, when they came back, a lot of them ended up working at resorts in Colorado in one way or another.’

  ‘When would that have been?’

  ‘Oh, quite a while after the war. We would be talking late fifties when it started to kick in. Developers knew when they were on to a good thing, so they were hiring these 10th Mountain guys left and right.’

  ‘So Emil Barger was hired by developers?’

  ‘Not so much hired – he had family money, so he was right up there with the best of them. He was a developer himself. And, I guess, his own technical advisor. He made some clever choices.’

  Ren thought of Salem Swade and how, twenty years later, the mountains welcomed him back from his war. ‘I guess it worked out well for Emil Barger,’ she said.

  ‘And The Cheapshot Inn was one of the ways he said thank you …’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ren.

  ‘For most of the year, he got one of the trainee managers from the resorts to take care of it. Then his son, Charlie, took over every time he was back from medical school on vacation.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Why the interest in all this?’ said the manager.

  I get sidetracked. ‘I just like the town,’ said Ren. She smiled. ‘This place is great. You’ve done a really good job.’

  ‘Thank you. Call back again if there’s anything else you need.’

  * * *

  Ren checked her watch and decided enough time had passed that she could call Helen without waking her up.

  ‘Helen? Hi. It’s Ren.’

  ‘Hi. I’m just with someone right now. Can I call you back in two minutes?’