Blood Runs Cold

by Alex Barclay

  ‘Ah, but I worked the door,’ said Ren.

  ‘What?’ said Billy.

  She nodded. ‘So maybe you could have done with me that night.’

  ‘Maybe I could have,’ he said. ‘So, are you working the Wilson case?’

  ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I said I’d look into it as a favor. I’m keeping track of my man-hours, so if it goes over a particular number, I will stop.’

  ‘How many hours?’

  ‘About one point five.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Five,’ said Ren. ‘So that’s one lunch hour a day, one working week.’

  ‘I bet you don’t even do lunch.’

  ‘But I do delusion pretty well.’

  She went over to the window. The snow was falling relentlessly.

  ‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘What?’ said Billy.

  ‘It’s dumped, like, seven inches out there.’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Billy.

  ‘Shit.’

  He came over beside her and looked out. ‘They might have closed McCullough Gulch Road.’

  ‘What?’ said Ren.

  He nodded. ‘There’ve been too many accidents there.’

  ‘No way.’

  He nodded. ‘Let me go call Traffic Watch.’

  He came back with bad news. ‘Looks like we might be stuck here.’

  32

  ‘This is a disaster,’ said Ren. She rubbed an arm across the window and looked out on to a black-and-white night. ‘Screw this.’ She turned around to him. ‘Did you listen to the forecast this morning?’

  ‘Oh, this is my fault?’ He was smiling. ‘I don’t want to be here either. I want to close up.’

  ‘You are closed up.’

  ‘I want to go home to my own bed, instead of …’ He threw a glance back behind the bar.

  ‘What’s back there?’

  ‘It’s not five star.’ He looked embarrassed.

  ‘Do you stay there a lot?’

  ‘No. Jesus. In the back of a shitty-ass bar like this? In the cold? In the middle of nowhere?’

  Ren shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you’re into …’

  ‘Who’s into that?’

  Ren stared back out the window. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’ She went quiet, staring at a rising storm. ‘What will I do?’

  ‘Is there someone you can call?’ said Billy. ‘State patrol?’

  ‘No one’s going to be out in this weather. Anyway, by the time they make it out here, it will be the middle of the night and the storm will probably have passed. I’d rather stay here until four a. m …’ She turned slowly around. ‘I mean, if that’s OK with you …’

  ‘I’m sure whatever’s OK with you is OK with everyone. All the time.’

  Screw you.

  ‘I didn’t mean you have to stay up talking to me until four a. m.,’ said Ren. ‘You can go ahead to bed. It’s not like I’m going to rob the place.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’d be like, let loose in a bar.’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘That sounds interesting.’

  ‘No. Take it from me. It’s not.’ She turned back to the window. ‘Some proper insulation here might be good.’ She walked away and took a seat by the fire. ‘It’s at an annoying level,’ she said, pointing to it.

  ‘Its only level,’ said Billy. ‘The boss is tight. The heating’s OK, but he doesn’t want the fire to ever be turned up.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ren, stretching her palms toward it. ‘God forbid the place ends up looking cozy.’

  ‘Does the princess find anything to her satisfaction?’ said Billy.

  Ren ignored him.

  ‘I’m going to fix myself a drink,’ said Billy. ‘Do you want something?’

  ‘I’m not really drinking … but, OK. I’ll have a vodka Red Bull.’

  ‘Are you worried you might fall asleep?’

  Ren smiled. ‘Vodka’ll do that to you.’

  Billy went behind the bar and poured the drinks.

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘So …’ said Ren.

  Billy turned to her, waiting. ‘So …?’ He grabbed the remote control for the television and hit the power button. Nothing happened. He shook out the batteries and tried again. He got up, switched it on and got static. ‘Damn,’ he said. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Yeah, last thing you want to have to do is talk to me,’ said Ren.

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just …’

  ‘I’m kidding,’ said Ren.

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’

  ‘Same as what you’d say to anyone else …’

  ‘… who could put me behind bars for life.’

  ‘Come on. Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘Ask your Atlanta buddies.’

  ‘Oh, come on. Would I be sitting here alone with you if I thought you were … you know?’

  ‘It could be all part of your plan.’

  ‘I don’t have a plan. I’m just doing my job.’

  They sat in silence. ‘So … how did you end up here?’ said Ren.

  ‘It was a long hard climb up the corporate ladder, but I did it. I made it.’ He hit his glass off hers.

  Ren laughed. ‘I don’t know what to say to that.’

  ‘OK – let me think – how did I make it here? Do you know that song “God Bless the Broken Road”? Well, think of mine as a broken road, but maybe the devil blessed it.’

  ‘That song’s adorable. Was your road that rough?’

  ‘Yes.’

  End of discussion. ‘But, like, how was it, growing up?’ said Ren.

  ‘It was a badly beaten, animal-murdering kind of childhood.’

  Ren laughed loud.

  ‘Seriously, though – did my mom send you?’ said Billy. ‘You’re not really the FBI, right? She just wants to make sure I don’t blame her for anything.’

  ‘Well, obviously your childhood was just fine.’

  ‘It was. Crazy, but not bad. I saw some weird shit. But … I’m all right now.’

  She smiled.

  ‘What about you?’ said Billy.

  ‘Ooh,’ said Ren. ‘This is where I lie and say my father worked in an office and my mother was a housewife. Or I tell the truth. Although, maybe you only deserve the pared-back truth, like you’ve just given me.’

  ‘What? That was all lies. Go with the lies.’

  ‘My father worked in an office and my mother was a housewife.’

  ‘Good for them.’ They clinked glasses again. And with the next drink. And the next one … all the way to the last one.

  ‘Can I ask?’ said Billy. ‘Is Ren short for something?’

  Ren smiled slowly.

  ‘Ah …’ said Billy, ‘something you don’t want to say.’

  Ren smiled big. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now I really want to know.’

  She paused. ‘OK… Renegade.’

  ‘What? Are you serious?’

  ‘No.’

  He laughed loud. ‘I thought your parents might have been Hollywood movie stars or something.’

  ‘No – worse than that on both counts.’

  ‘Yeah? Go ahead.’

  ‘Orenda.’

  ‘Orenda. That’s … terrible.’

  ‘I know. She’s a sacred power … it’s an Iroquois thing.’

  ‘I thought there might be something like that in you … you have a very striking face.’

  Shit. ‘Thank you.’ She moved quickly on. ‘The Iroquois believe that if you ignore your dreams, you’re in big trouble because your dreams are connected directly to your soul. But also that when you dream you can communicate with the sacred power … Orenda.’

  Billy paused. ‘Mystical … but the name still sucks.’

  Ren laughed. ‘All right, all right …’

  ‘Does your family still call you that?’

  ‘Some of them.’

  Billy laughed again.
‘Yeah, well, I won’t. No way.’

  ‘Hey – it’s Agent Bryce to you, anyway.’

  ‘Is it?’ He made a face.

  ‘I’m joking, you idiot.’

  ‘Can FBI agents call people idiots?’

  ‘We can do whatever we want,’ she said, smiling.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Right,’ said Ren. ‘It is four thirty.’

  ‘You can’t drive now. Take the prison bunk. And I’ll have the … booth here.’

  ‘Nah. I’ll … let’s just wait up, eat something, drink coffee, then I’ll go on my way in a couple hours. I couldn’t sleep here … but thanks anyway.’

  ‘OK,’ said Billy, reaching out his hand, pulling her to her feet.

  ‘Good grip,’ said Ren.

  ‘Yeah. Steady hand. For the drive-bys.’

  Ren laughed. ‘Stop.’ She held his gaze and saw what could be behind it. He hadn’t let go of her hand. She looked away. She pulled her hand gently from his and bent down to grab her purse from the floor. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’ve got to –’ She stood up. Do not look at him. But she did. His eyes. Pale and nervous. Oh, no. Don’t. She closed her eyes as Billy leaned down to her. He kissed her so slowly and gently she could barely move; he looked like the kind of guy who would slam you up against a wall. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t that kind of guy.

  And she didn’t mind that this could be the biggest mistake she had ever made.

  33

  Ren woke to Billy Waites’ arm wrapped around her naked stomach. Her heart flipped. She closed her eyes. Oh. God.

  The flashback reel kicked in; his face, his mouth, his arms, his hands, edited with all the other parts of his body she never thought she’d see. Or do anything to. It was a great reel. But WTF?

  Billy woke, groaning, sliding his hand out from under her.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, rolling on to his back. She could hear the smile in his voice.

  What have I done?

  ‘The FBI,’ said Billy, laughing.

  The people who can fire me.

  She sat up. ‘I’m sorry, Billy. I’ve got to go …’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked around the room, trying to pinpoint each item of clothing before she got up. Hostage training: walk into a room, know immediately where everything is.

  ‘You are not happy this morning,’ said Billy.

  She turned to look at him. He held her hair out of her eyes.

  Don’t be nice to me. ‘I … don’t know what to say.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ said Billy. ‘Kind of.’

  Ren sat up. Panties: two o’clock. Jeans: three o’clock. Bra: ten o’clock. Boots: six o’clock. Top …

  ‘Did you see my top?’ she said.

  ‘It’s behind the bar.’

  Oh God. ‘I’ll get it on the way out.’ She stood by the bed. ‘Uh … thanks.’

  ‘Thanks?’ He laughed.

  ‘For putting me up,’ said Ren.

  ‘For putting you up to what?’

  She gave him a patient face.

  ‘Do I not get a kiss goodbye?’ he said.

  Jesus Christ. She bent down to kiss him, hovering between his cheek and his forehead. He ignored her and went for her mouth. She stumbled backward.

  He laughed.

  ‘I lost my balance,’ said Ren.

  ‘Is that what happened last night?’

  She tilted her head at him. ‘Bye. Thanks. I mean …’

  She stopped in the bathroom on her way out. She looked in the mirror and saw her hangover face: the skin, paler than her neck, mascara slightly smudged. She spent good money on makeup to withstand a night’s drinking and … she also saw her mistake face, her eyes slightly haunted and asking that question she could never answer. What the fuck were you thinking? She ran her middle finger under each eye and fixed her mascara. She scraped her nails through her hair and stared at her reflection. What the fuck were you thinking? She frowned. She smiled. But WTF?

  She grabbed her top from a pile of upside-down beer glasses and quickly put it on. She walked to the door, unlocked it and pulled it open. The snow was three feet high. She could see her Jeep across the parking lot, settled into a drift. Shit. She kept staring as if the snow would part. Shit. She went back in to Billy. He was talking quietly into his cellphone. He looked up, slightly confused, then quickly finished his call.

  He smiled.

  ‘Do you have a snow shovel?’ said Ren.

  ‘Oh yeah. The storm.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Right.’ He fell back on the bed. ‘Right. Just give me a minute to get my shit together. Is your head hurting this morning? I totally –’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I really need to get to work,’ said Ren. ‘OK? So just tell me where the fu— snowplow is and I can do my thing.’

  ‘Wow … calm down.’

  ‘One of my least favorite phrases in the world.’

  Billy gave her a look she had seen before, usually when her tone had crossed a line. He threw back the covers and sat up. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Look, I’m late. That’s all.’

  She walked back into the bar while he was getting dressed. He came out with the shovel. ‘You sit down. Can I get you a coffee?’

  Ren shook her head. Her eyes moved to the door. He got the message. And he didn’t like it. He went out back and Ren watched from the window as he plowed a path to her Jeep, to the road and back to the door of the bar.

  He walked in and unzipped his jacket, throwing it on one of the chairs.

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said Ren, standing up, desperate to leave the stale oppression of a bar in the morning. Billy started opening the shutters, his back turned to her, a quick glance over his shoulder for a half-hearted goodbye.

  Ren got into the Jeep, took out her phone and dialed Helen’s number. She answered as Ren was pulling out of the parking lot.

  ‘Can you talk?’ said Ren.

  ‘Five minutes.’

  Ren paused. ‘I … screwed up.’

  ‘OK …’

  ‘I … slept with a C.I. – a confidential informant. Last night.’

  ‘OK,’ said Helen. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He works in a bar. I went to see him. We were snowed in. We had a few drinks …’

  ‘Are you OK? He didn’t, like …’

  ‘God, no,’ said Ren. ‘He’s a lovely guy. I mean, he’s a criminal, but –’

  ‘He’s a criminal.’

  ‘Well, yeah. Obviously. Most C.I.s are. I mean, he’s … reformed.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘No. But –’

  ‘But …?’

  ‘I believe him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. I guess not. No.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘OK? Here’s how I feel. I am so attracted to him, it’s amazing.’

  ‘I have heard you say that before.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I mean it this time.’

  Helen said nothing.

  ‘What’ll I do?’ said Ren.

  ‘How many times have you asked me that?’

  ‘I know, but I’m hoping one day you’ll crack …’

  Helen laughed. ‘Look, work out the patterns, Ren. You’re an intelligent woman. Why do you put yourself in these situations? What are the factors? Alcohol doesn’t help. Stress … you know all this.’

  ‘I know, but I still do it anyway. And for the first time, I can say, honestly, that even if I hadn’t been drinking, it would have happened. I know there are people who can walk away from this kind of thing … but I’m not one of them. I’d love to be, but … I never have.’

  ‘But you don’t feel good afterwards.’

  ‘I live in the moment.’

  ‘And then you regret the moment. And the moment eats you up, obsesses you. In a really bad way. And then …’

  ‘And then nothing, I’ve too much on now for it to get in the way.’

  ‘Yeah, bec
ause “feeling shit” gives a damn about what you have going on in your life.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m not going to get down about it …’

  ‘Are you looking after yourself? Are you eating well? Sleeping?’

  ‘Not really … Mom.’

  ‘I’ll ignore that. Do me a favor, please. Go to the gym. Go to the health-food store. Get some early nights. Try a routine.’

  Ren sighed.

  ‘And stay away from beer,’ said Helen.

  Ren’s shoulders slumped. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Must try harder,’ said Helen.

  ‘Story of my life,’ said Ren.

  When Ren got back to the inn, she went straight to her room and into the shower. And in the tenth minute she stood there, wondering if she had put conditioner in her hair, wondering whether, if she had, she’d rinsed it out, wondering if really hot water ruined your skin, she saw the face of Gary Dettling. In one hour she would be sitting oppositehim, discussing the reliability of Billy Waites.

  It depends on what you are relying on him for.

  34

  Gary Dettling was sitting at the edge of his desk with his back to the door, in front of a bunch of very rough-looking Safe Streets guys. He turned around when Ren walked in. He looked rougher than the rest of them.

  ‘What happened to you guys?’ said Ren.

  ‘What happened to you?’ said Gary.

  ‘Hey, I thought I looked fine,’ said Ren.

  ‘You do,’ said Gary. ‘You look like you had a great night’s sleep.’

  ‘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.’