by Alex Barclay
She got out of bed and went into the shower. She stood under the hot water, sorting through Aveda products, smiling in spite of herself … because a bad feeling had sprouted claws inside her and wasn’t about to release its grip. Why had Billy come to Denver? Her stomach turned. Coincidence. But as she reached for the towel, there was the tiniest shake in her hand. She put on the bathrobe and walked back into the bedroom, picking up her clothes as she went. Billy was curled under the covers, looking out the window, his bare back to her. She dressed quickly. He turned around when he heard her grab her purse.
‘But I just ordered breakfast,’ he said. ‘Pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fruit, coffee … eggs, toast, croissants …’
‘You forgot the nothing.’
‘Just covering the bases. I mean, I don’t know what you eat for breakfast.’
‘Ugh.’
‘What?’ said Billy.
‘Well, you don’t know what I eat for breakfast, but you’ve … you know.’
He laughed. ‘So what? You feeling cheap?’
‘Stop always getting to the point.’
‘Stop dancing around shit, Ren. Loosen up. You’re not cheap. You’re expensive.’
‘I’m still going. I’ll settle the bill on my way out.’
He frowned. ‘No you won’t.’
‘Yes, I –’
‘No.’
‘Fine.’
‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For the … hotel.’
Billy laughed again. ‘If you ever want another … hotel, let me know. I could give you hotels all night long.’
He couldn’t see her smiling as she closed the door behind her.
Ren walked quickly through the hotel lobby. The guy at the concierge desk was huge and smiling.
‘Good morning, madame.’
‘Hi, how are you?’ said Ren. Personally, I am troubled.
‘I am good this morning. Can we give madame a ride anywhere?’
Ooh. Hotel Teatro had a complementary shuttle service. A handsome young man in a black Jeep would take you anywhere you wanted to go.
‘Could you give me one moment?’ said Ren, walking around the corner where there was a huge open fire. She dialed Robbie’s cellphone.
‘Truax, are you in the office?’
‘Allegedly.’
‘Where is my car?’
He laughed. ‘Not again. It’s right by Gaffney’s. You were probably looking at it all night.’
‘Shit, yeah. Thanks.’
‘Where did you end up?’
Ren paused. ‘I gotta go. Thanks.’
‘Not fair.’
She walked back into the lobby. ‘Could you take me to Gaffney’s please?’
‘Great spot,’ he said.
‘Evil,’ she said.
Ren’s car was exactly where she didn’t remember leaving it. She sat inside, reclined the seat a little and blasted the heating. She dialed Helen’s number.
‘I did it again.’
‘Did what?’ said Helen.
‘Billy.’
Helen paused. ‘OK. Tell me what happened.’
‘I was here … I’m in Denver. So was he, he called, we hooked up. We stayed in a hotel.’
‘And how are you feeling this morning?’
‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘I really like him. I have not been able to stop thinking about him since the last time. But there’s something about him I can’t describe. I worry. My stomach gets unsettled. I don’t know if it’s because … I don’t trust him. Or because I’m falling in love with him.’ She slumped back in her chair. ‘It sounds ridiculous, I know. I mean, I’m thirty-six years old.’
‘So … do you think you have a future with him?’
‘What? I don’t know. Do I have to?’
‘I’m just giving you a reality check …’
‘If I look at it logically, no. I mean, is he going to come with me to the work Christmas party? No. Do I bring him home to my mom? No. Do I do anything other than hole up in a hotel room with him for months on end? No.’
‘That’s lots of nos.’
‘I know.’ She glanced at herself in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why do I do this?’
‘Ren? Only you can answer that.’
Ren brought guilt and a massive headache back to the Sheriff’s Office. She drank coffee and water, took Vitamin C and decided ultimately what she needed was some air in her lungs … with a stop-off at Charlie Barger’s house on the way.
Shannon Barger opened the door a fraction. Direct sunlight did nothing for her; she was a forty-five-year-old mess.
‘Hello,’ said Ren. ‘Is your father in?’
Shannon hung from the door in her low-riding track pants with her bare, bony hip out. Her thin auburn hair was tied with a brown elastic band on top of her head. She opened the door wider without saying a word and walked away.
Weirdo.
Ren knocked on Charlie Barger’s door. He took his time to open.
‘Hello, I’m Ren Bryce. You helped me with my altitude sickness.’ She smiled.
‘Oh, yes … you’re with the FBI. Mike Delaney … yes. I remember.’
‘You may be able to help me out. I’m doing some research on a case and I came across your house,’ she said. ‘Actually, I came across the Cheapshot Inn.’ She smiled.
Barger looked slightly bewildered. ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come in, let me make us some coffee.’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
Barger walked ahead of her down the dark hallway, his footsteps silent in sheepskin slippers. Ren’s heels sank into the carpet. She wondered if she was ruining it. But Barger’s wool cardigan and jeans, expensive but worn, reminded her everything in the house was fading.
‘I saw that photo in the Welcome Center, the people standing outside here,’ said Ren. ‘The name is great – cheap shot. That’s what a lot of young people come here for, right? Spend all their money on ski passes, come off the mountains looking for cheap alcohol.’ She smiled.
Barger stood at the kitchen sink, filling the bright red kettle. ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got coffee to give you,’ he said.
‘Well, I’m not a young person, so that’s fine.’
He turned around. ‘I reckon you’re about half my age – which makes you very young to me.’
She laughed. ‘I wanted to ask you about this guy –’ She placed the photo of Mark Wilson on the table.
‘Well, I know who he is. That guy disappeared last year. As a matter of fact, it was only on the news there a little while back.’
‘That’s him,’ said Ren. ‘I wanted to know … he stayed here for the month that he was in Breckenridge.’
He smiled sadly. ‘That’s the thing. I’ve already been through the investigation first time round.’
‘Oh, I’m not investigating it. I’m just taking a look at a few things. I had no idea this place used to be an inn.’
‘Yes. My father was a … generous man. He set this up many years ago. I used to work here on my vacations from college. Then, when he died, it was passed on to me, and when my daughter Shannon got older, she helped take care of it.’
Not very well, obviously.
‘Your father sounds like a good man.’
‘He was. He was. A champion skier, a 10th Mountain veteran, a developer, a humanitarian.’
A hard act to follow.
39
Ren drove to Main Street and parked across the street from the Gold Pan. She arrived just as Salem Swade was getting up to leave.
‘Hey, Salem,’ said Ren.
‘Hello,’ said Salem.
‘How do you think Misty would feel about me taking her for a little walk?’ said Ren.
Salem glanced down at Misty. ‘It might be how I feel about you taking Misty for a walk. I doubt she’d have much of a problem. Isn’t that right, girl?’
Misty gave him a lazy, loving look. He rubbed her head.
‘OK, then,’ he said to R
en. ‘Where are you going to take her?’
‘Well, how about I drop you off at the Filly. I’ll take her from there and drop her back to you.’
‘You have to take very good care of her. That’s all.’
‘I can promise you that,’ said Ren.
* * *
Ren left Salem at the Brockton Filly. Misty sat on the back seat of the Jeep as Ren drove a short distance down the road. She pulled into a rest-stop and parked. When she opened the back door, Misty threw herself at her.
‘Hey,’ said Ren, ‘you can’t fool me. I know this is not your first time going for a walk.’ She laughed. She secured Misty’s leash and they walked for twenty minutes and back again along a winding cycle path that ran in and out of the trees alongside the highway. Few cars and no people passed them by. They got on well. But Salem was very happy to have Misty back.
As Ren was walking, she thought about Caroline Quaintance, Jean Transom’s friend from the animal shelter. There was something about her she couldn’t put her finger on. Tonight, she decided to put herself through some torture to find out more.
Ren could never get the balance right between the clothes she wore, the outside temperature and the heating in the car. Sub-zero surveillance: compared to the same temperature the evening before, the roads would feel icier, the snow heavier, the seats of the car, harder. And there was something about it all that felt pointless. It is harder to blend into the darkness when your exhaust is pumping white fumes into the air. But at least she had heating; half-way down the block behind her, Todd Austerval was sitting in a car with none. He was dressed in a massive black Puffa jacket that made it look as if his airbag had blown.
Ren circled the block, saw nothing and pulled back into her original position. She radioed Todd.
‘Hey – let’s swap cars.’
Silence.
‘I’m serious,’ said Ren. ‘This isn’t fair – you freezing your butt off.’
‘Are you for real?’ said Todd.
‘Yes. I’ll walk back to you now.’
‘No way,’ said Todd. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘Is it because I’m such a lady?’ said Ren.
Todd snorted.
‘Laughing a little too hard,’ said Ren. ‘Come on, just let me do this.’
‘Look,’ said Todd, ‘we’ve been here three hours and seen nothing. Stay where you are; another ten minutes and we’ll both go.’
‘OK. Then we can go track down your mechanic and kick the crap out of him.’
Todd snorted again. ‘Sure, if you want to. But I’m going home to bed.’
You are so straight. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t actually serious?’ said Ren.
‘It’s hard to tell with you,’ said Todd.
But Ren had drifted out of Todd’s bland world and was watching headlights approach in her rearview mirror. She sank lower in her seat and sat in silence watching the familiar car as it passed. It circled the block three times.
Todd radioed her. ‘Hey, did you see that?’
‘That car circling?’ said Ren. ‘Yeah, I was right up close. He had a map, he was just lost … this place has a lot of streets and avenues with similar names.’
‘OK – you got a better view.’
‘Yep,’ said Ren. A perfect view.
But was Billy Waites tailing me or Caroline Quaintance?
The Brockton Filly was almost closed, the crowd was thin. Ren had given Billy Waites two hours to get back. She came in, smiled at him across the room and sat up at the bar.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ he said, smiling wide. ‘I didn’t think you’d ever be coming back to see me.’
She laughed as her heart pounded. ‘As if I wouldn’t …’
‘Well, you weren’t too keen on my company this morning. And Salem said you did a drive-by to drop him off.’
‘Did you get through all that breakfast?’
‘I did not,’ said Billy. ‘You should have seen it – there was enough for ten people. I am not exaggerating. I wrapped it all up in some napkins and brought it back for Salem.’
‘Did you check out OK?’
Billy nodded. ‘I wasn’t thinking about that when I took the food. In fact, I dropped some of my stash.’
‘You wouldn’t make a great crim—’ She almost blushed. ‘Oops.’
‘I’ve lost my touch,’ said Billy. ‘The FBI is messin’ with my mojo.’
40
The Brockton Filly quickly emptied. She saw the creepy guy whose prints she had taken. He almost winked at her as he left. Ugh. She watched Billy make his way around the bar, closing the shutters. Every time she met him, he was wearing a black T-shirt with a graphic on the front and perfectly sized Diesel jeans.
He looked over his shoulder at her. ‘I have three pairs of the same jeans,’ he said. ‘In case you were wondering.’
Ren laughed. ‘Well, what else am I going to be looking at in here?’
‘I’m just an object to you …’
A subject, actually. ‘Yup,’ she said.
He kept going and every now and then he would look over and smile. It felt good. She watched him, afraid to rely on what she was feeling right now. He had to know that checking his phone numbers, checking anything out about him now could lead her colleagues directly her way. He had cut off that channel. Deliberately? He smiled at her again. If she was to be fair, she had cut off that channel too. But she wasn’t feeling fair. She was feeling suspicious. She was sitting with a man linked to a homicide investigation who had been following either her or a young woman who was linked to the homicide victim. And I am the agent in the middle.
‘Can I fix myself a drink?’ said Ren.
‘Sure – go ahead,’ said Billy. ‘I need to bring bottles in from out back.’
By the time she got behind the bar, her heart was beating so hard, it was beginning to turn her stomach. I can’t do this, it’s so wrong. If he knew …’
Her hand never shook on the job. She had held a gun steady on people she feared she would have to shoot. She had done terrible things in terrible situations that should have rendered every usable part of her body useless, but it never happened. She did steady better than most. Until tonight. She had crossed over. One sensible-shoed foot was rooted on the professional side. The other was in the personal zone with a trampy stiletto on the chest of a criminal.
Jesus … and stop fucking shaking.
She stared down at her hand. It calmed a little. She took a breath and navigated quickly through the unfamiliar menu of Billy Waites’ cellphone. Most of the texts were from her, which gave her an unwanted thrill. As she scrolled down, she realized the Inbox was filled entirely with her texts.
I am the stalker.
The Sent box was different; probably the same amount of texts to her, but more to numbers and names she knew she wouldn’t recognize anyway. She started opening them. They were typical men’s texts – direct and written without l8-, w8-, gr8-style abbreviations. These texts said Y or N, or had times or… Looking for coded messages seemed ridiculous. With single-letter responses, the same letters over and over, what was she going to work out? That yes meant no and no meant yes? She almost laughed. As she backed her way out of the menus she had violated, the phone vibrated in her hand with a text message. She jumped and almost fucked herself into dropping it and alerting Billy. He called out from the back room.
‘Shit, Ren? Is my phone out there?’
She half-looked at it, half-tried to put it down and wholly wanted to press Yes to open the text. She wanted to find out if Billy was about to bring in a shipment of coke, arrange a hit, tell his friends what he did to her, or ask a girl called Cindy to meet him in a seedy bar. Is this the seedy bar? And what are the chances of a sinister text arriving while an FBI agent is holding his phone? Jesus.
‘I think it’s here somewhere,’ she shouted back. ‘I heard the buzz.’
‘You can leave it,’ said Billy. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
With a gun to pressed to the back of my neck.
She walked quietly around the front of the bar, leaving the phone where it was. She sat very still, then pretended to look through her bag for a pen. Her heart slowed, but there was a small tremble left in her hand. Billy came up behind her, laid a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. She reached up and rested her hand on his.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘Hey.’
He walked over to his phone and checked the message. Ren watched his face. There was no story in it to read.
‘Where’s your drink?’
‘I changed my mind,’ she said. ‘I need to get back to Breck.’
‘What?’
She nodded.
‘Oh,’ said Billy. ‘I was going to fix us something to eat.’
Whoa. Too domestic. ‘I can’t, I’ve … got to meet up with my bosses.’
‘Code for “I can’t possibly eat with you because that would be weird.”’
And you know all about code … And I feel terrible for even thinking that.
She stood up and kissed him briefly on the lips. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’
‘You always say “I’ll talk to you later,” and you never do.’
She smiled back. ‘It’s just a saying. You know, like “How are you doing?” or “I love you.”’
‘What?’
Ren laughed. ‘I think Homer said that.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, not him – Homer Simpson. Gotta go.’
When Ren finally got away from the Brockton Filly, it was three a.m. A miserable, beautiful, hopeless song played on her iPod to back up her mood. Her hand would never have shook, her heart would not have sped up if Billy Waites had been just who he was and not who he had become. She had been in situations worse than that, she had risked more, but never did she have to ask herself a similar question to the one that was running through her mind right now.
Was I looking for reassurance that Billy Waites was bad… or reassurance that he was good?
41
Ren woke with aching shoulders and stiff legs. She took a bath instead of a shower to try to relax her muscles.
Bob had an audience of several detectives when she got to his office.
