by Alex Barclay
He shook his head away from her.
‘You have a way about you,’ said Ren.
People told Robbie things because he made them feel that whatever information they gave him, it was a blessing, he would cherish it, and he would use it to successfully fight the forces of evil. No matter where he’d been and what he’d seen, he truly trusted and he inspired trust. His bright blue eyes told them ‘We are going to solve this. I will take care of this.’
Robbie Truax: Action Boy.
Ren glanced at him.
Tired-looking Action Boy.
The little old ladies saw him as the ideal grandson. He was single, Mormon and virginal, because he never wanted to do what so many of his friends had done: marry so he could have sex. Robbie was waiting for the right woman to come along. He had long believed it was Ren. He had once broken his no-alcohol vow for one night only to be a little more like the kind of man he thought Ren would want. He had tried to kiss her and he had told her how he felt. And she let him kindly know that, though she adored him, she thought of him in a different way; the worst way possible for him: as a brother.
Even if she had been physically attracted to him, even if he didn’t believe in no sex before marriage, Robbie wouldn’t do sex. Robbie did love.
Bless you, innocent, pure, breakable Robbie.
The autopsy lasted two hours and was a difficult one for everyone. Ren, Janine, Robbie and Kohler were now standing in a corner, as Tolman talked through the findings. Tolman was a smart, thorough medical examiner, who explained everything clearly.
He glanced at Janine and Ren.
‘You know, Janine, I remember a time when you told me not to speak to Agent Ren Bryce … now look at you guys.’
‘It was a dark moment in our history,’ said Ren.
‘Darker for her than me,’ said Janine.
Shame. Shaaame.
During a previous investigation, Ren had gotten her confidential informant to steal a file from Janine’s office, but he had put it back in the wrong place, and Janine had made the connection to Ren. By the end of the mercifully successful investigation, Janine had also solved a cold case and the two women had ultimately bonded over bad things and good intentions.
‘Aw, the lesser-spotted blushing of Ren Bryce,’ said Janine. ‘Let’s just say that at the time of said incident, Agent Bryce was using her superpowers for good …’
‘Some day you will tell me,’ said Tolman. ‘OK – down to business: we’ve got a twenty-six-year-old woman, pregnant, sustained multiple gunshot wounds, while sitting in a parked car. Cause of death was a severe head injury caused by a gunshot wound at close range. I recovered one projectile from behind the left scapula. Also noted was a gunshot wound to the chest, causing severe injuries. I recovered a second projectile just beneath the scalp behind the left ear. Both appear to me to be from a large caliber weapon. Manner of death: homicide. Time of death – anywhere from ten a.m. to when you found her at 15.48.
‘The pregnancy was approximately six months gestational age,’ said Tolman. ‘The fetus was viable. If it were born today, it would have been capable of living on its own. There were no signs of deformity. The death of the fetus is associated with maternal death, caused by the gunshot wounds.’ He paused. ‘Do you know who the father is? Is there a question of paternity? I’ll retain tissue here – I can get testing through the university lab, if you need it.’
‘Great,’ said Ren. ‘We don’t know yet. We also have to consider it as a possible surrogacy situation.’
‘Well, keep me posted,’ said Tolman.
‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘It’s a girl,’ said Tolman.
Those words were not meant for this room.
12
Robbie sat with his laptop at a spare desk beside Janine’s. Ren was sitting on the edge of Janine’s desk, her office phone up to her ear.
‘Well, it’s ringing,’ said Ren. ‘And it’s an overseas ringtone. Nessa Lally may just be in Ireland after all.’
Her eyes were on Janine’s piano fingers as she waited.
‘You are such a fast typist,’ said Ren. ‘It’s insane.’
‘You know it, girl,’ said Janine.
‘Hello,’ said Ren, sitting up. ‘Is this Nessa Lally?’
‘Yes.’
‘My name is Special Agent Ren Bryce. I’m with the FBI in Denver. The Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force. Is this a good time?’
‘The FBI?’ said Nessa. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Ren. That ma’am will convince her.
‘Is everything OK?’ said Nessa.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve got some bad news about your friend, Laura Flynn.’
‘Laura Flynn?’ said Nessa.
‘Yes,’ said Ren, ‘I’m sorry to tell you that she was the victim of a homicide.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Nessa. ‘No way. Laura? No way. In Denver? What was she doing in Denver? I knew she’d moved to New York, but …’
What? ‘You knew she’d moved to New York?’ said Ren.
‘It’s just … I haven’t seen her in years,’ said Nessa. ‘How did you even get my number?’
‘Aren’t you friends with Laura?’ said Ren.
‘Not now, no,’ said Nessa. ‘I used to be, there was a big gang of us used to hang around together, but we haven’t seen each other in, easily, six or seven years.’
‘Laura told her employers last week that your mother died and that because you were illegal you couldn’t fly back to Ireland for the funeral, so she was going to spend the weekend with you for support,’ said Ren. ‘We obviously now know that you’re legal …’
‘Thank God I am,’ said Nessa. ‘My mam did die last week, but yeah, I came back from Chicago for the funeral. But, Laura … that’s so weird. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Someone else must have told her about mam.’ She gave a grim laugh. ‘In fairness, she always used to use me as an alibi in college when she was lying to her mother about where she was staying.’
I wonder what she was lying about this time.
‘What did Laura study in college?’ said Ren.
‘Psychology,’ said Nessa. ‘She’s got a degree. But it’s impossible to get a job in it. And she would have needed a PhD in the States to do more with it. I don’t know anyone who can afford to do that.’
‘Was there anyone else she might have known in Chicago?’ said Ren. ‘Anyone else from your hometown?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nessa. ‘But I can ask around for you.’
‘Did any of her friends end up in New York?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Nessa. ‘I can get their names for you if that would help?’
‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you. Nessa, what kind of girl was Laura? Was she the type to get involved with the wrong crowd?’ What a shit expression. ‘Was she a risk-taker?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Nessa. ‘Her father and her sister were big drinkers … and that definitely turned Laura off it, like she was very conscious that addiction runs in families. So I doubt she’d ever get into anything serious, like drugs or anything like that, if that’s what you mean. She dated a few losers, but not, like, psychos or anything.’ She paused. ‘Jesus, though, Laura really did have a shitty childhood with her father being such an alco around town and her mother always taking him back or showing up and they’d have huge rows in front of everyone. Laura always kind of rose above it. She was like one of those little flowers you see growing in a weird place. Like on the side of some shitty road in the middle of nowhere.’
Ren slid off Janine’s desk and grabbed a chair to sit on.
‘If you lead a tragic life, don’t you deserve to have a beautiful death?’ said Ren. ‘Garlands of white flowers, unicorns, dancing sprites, lyres, lutes … not sure if they’re the same thing …’
‘Me neither,’ said Janine.
Ren filled her in on the other side of the conversation with Nessa Lally.
&nbs
p; ‘What I’m kind of confused about,’ said Ren, ‘is the surrogacy thing … if this is a surrogacy. Aren’t the Catholic Church anti-surrogacy, anti-IVF …’
‘They are,’ said Janine.
‘How would that sit with Robert Prince?’ said Ren. ‘Wouldn’t this look bad if it came out? That this prominent Catholic was, in fact, using a surrogate? I mean, that’s a massive conflict right there.’
‘Wouldn’t he have just not gone along with it in the first place if he had such a problem with it?’ said Janine.
‘Who knows?’ said Ren. ‘Change of heart? Or is he one of those men that messes with women’s heads?’ She paused. ‘Maybe it’s the Order of Catholic businessy thing.’ She Googled it. ‘OK – OCBLA. The Order of Catholic Business Leaders of America. Let me go back over this. So he failed in his bid to be elected chairman in 2005, and in 2010.’
Five-year term.
Next election: 2015.
Ren Googled the former chairmen.
‘All the former chairmen were multi-millionaires, all male, all married with kids. Robert Prince was unmarried when he first ran. He was married when he ran a second time in 2010, but he had no children. He didn’t get elected. So, if this surrogacy had been successful, he would have had a child by 2015 … albeit in a manner that would go against the beliefs of all the members of the organization.’
‘Cynical,’ said Janine.
‘Yes,’ said Ren. She searched to see if he was running for the following year. There was no mention of it.
‘Let me call Eli Baer in New York.’ She dialed his number. ‘Instant response, I love it. Eli, it’s Ren Bryce. What do you know about the Order of Catholic Business Leaders of America?’
‘Apart from it takes a long time to say it, it’s an exclusive new-but-old boys’ club …’ said Eli.
‘Secret handshakes …’ said Ren.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know of Robert Prince’s involvement with it?’ said Ren.
‘I do not,’ said Eli, ‘but I know who to ask.’
‘Also, has anything else come up on Robert Prince … like issues with women?’
‘Nothing serious,’ said Eli. ‘I know a cop who worked private security for him a few times. He said he was a real control freak. That was it. Really cared about his image. He made his date change that night. They went to pick her up, she came down in a really short dress and he got out of the car, went back into her apartment with her and when they came back down, she was wearing something a lot more conservative …’
‘No black eye or split lip …’ said Ren.
‘Nope,’ said Eli. ‘Really, Prince just came across to him as a rich jerk. But I guess he does have an image to protect … and this lady wasn’t quite tying into it.’
‘No escort or hooker tales?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Eli, ‘but you know he can afford to be a very careful man if that’s what he’s into.’
‘I know …’ said Ren. ‘OK, thanks for that.’
‘Any time,’ said Eli.
Ren put down the phone. ‘Prince is a control freak,’ said Ren. ‘That’s all we’ve got. And Eli will look into the Order of Secret Handshakes.’
‘Another thought,’ said Janine. ‘A less conspiratorial one – if Laura Flynn had a psychology degree, could she have been going for a job at the ranch?’
‘That’s going to be part of my angle when we go and talk to the private folks of The Darned Heart Ranch. Firstly, I’m all about the employees, not the “guests”. Then – bam! – burning car.’
Detective Kohler stuck his head into the office. ‘Briefing here at six p.m. Ren, Robbie – can you make it?’
‘We sure can,’ said Ren. ‘In the meantime, we’re going to speak with the Faules, see if anyone saw anything, if they know anything more about the car, and if they’re harboring murderous, pyromaniac teens.’
‘OK,’ said Kohler, ‘we’ll see you later.’
Ren turned to Janine. ‘Do you think the parents of the teens know about the Faules’ trusting approach?’
‘Lord, no,’ said Janine. ‘It’s not like they would say that out loud. But, in the Faules’ defense, look at the adjoining property: an abbey. And it’s only the abbey boundary that is really crossable, unless you’re Bear Grylls. The Faules aren’t stupid. If the kids wander into the abbey, they’ll be seen, they’ll be pretty safe, and more than likely, they’ll be treated compassionately if they’re discovered. Obviously, a couple of the kids have strayed further, which is where we came in. What they do is prey on some kindly visitor to the abbey to drop them into town. Or they hide in the back of a truck. Or they reach out to one of the teen volunteers that come in and out of the abbey.’
‘So Kristen Faule thinks she’s got some kind of magic wand that will transform these kids,’ said Ren. ‘When it’s highly likely that most of them have been blackmailed into going there in the first place and are just biding their time. “You won’t get a car for your sixteenth birthday if you don’t get a handle on your behavior/you are forbidden to see your boyfriend or girlfriend/we’ll take away your iPad, trauma of traumas” …’
‘We were simple children, really …’ said Janine.
‘We were,’ said Ren. ‘It’s shitty that some of these parents are sending their kids off just to get them out from under their feet, to get a break from all their drama, or worse, that they want to protect their own reputation. I think the minority are the ones who want their child to be happy and healthy and … fixed. It’s a great thing what the Faules do. I’m sure they’ve helped a lot of kids … I just suspect some of these kids are beyond help.’
13
The sign for The Darned Heart Ranch arced over the iron entry gates, the words rendered in oxblood metal. Ren had parked outside the metal art shop in Conifer the day before; all metal signs had been jumping out at her ever since. She drove up the dusty driveway. Robbie had opened a map of the ranch on his iPad.
‘The ranch is laid out like an actual diagram of the heart,’ said Robbie. ‘We are currently driving up the inferior vena cava.’
‘And what does that do?’ said Ren.
‘It carries de-oxygenated blood from the lower half of the body to the right atrium.’
Ren looked at him. ‘Wow. I wasn’t actually expecting an answer.’
They pulled into the parking lot. Ren looked at the map. The main office of the ranch was a three-thousand-square-foot log cabin tucked into the right ventricle; there were recreational areas in the left atrium, troubled teen residences in the superior vena cava. There were stables, a tack room, a hayloft and maintenance units tucked into the cardiac muscle. Beside that was a school with several classrooms, beside that an indoor basketball court and a separate shower house and toilet block. There was a separate two-story building close by that housed staff. And a three-bed ranch-style home where the Faules lived.
‘It’s kind of a mix of old and new,’ said Ren. ‘OK – let’s go. See if we can make a cardiac arrest …’
Robbie was staring out the window.
You don’t laugh at my jokes any more.
‘Are you OK, Robbie?’ said Ren. ‘I mean, am I OK? Have I done something?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Because if you don’t change that attitude, young man, I’m going to leave you here, let them beat the trouble out of you …’
Robbie smiled.
That’s better … a little better …
They got out of the Jeep. Ren looked around.
‘Can you take some photos of the vehicles parked here?’ she said.
Robbie used his iPad to quickly take a few dozen shots from different angles.
‘Some very nice cars,’ said Ren. ‘Look at this fleet of four …’ Black, sleek, top-of-the-range executive vans. ‘Ferriers of children to rehab. What a strange world we live in.’
They walked through the parking lot.
‘Looks like someone jizzed up the side of that one,’ said Ren, pointing to anoth
er black car.
‘How do you just come out with things like that?’ said Robbie.
‘It’s shameful,’ said Ren. ‘I apologize. But it’s a ranch for teens … hormones are rampant.’
‘That doesn’t mean—’
‘Robbie, I’m kidding. Jesus. I don’t think a kid’s been out here jacking off. It doesn’t even look like jizz. Relax.’
They went into the reception of the main building, showed their badges and asked to speak with Kristen Faule.
‘Sure,’ said the girl at the desk, ‘please, take a seat.’
Kristen Faule arrived within ten minutes. She looked to be in her mid-forties, her snowy blonde hair tied back into a plait that reached halfway down her back. The only makeup she wore was to define her eyebrows and darken her lashes.
‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce,’ said Ren, ‘and this is Detective Robbie Truax. We’re from the Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force in Denver. Thank you for seeing us.’
‘My pleasure,’ she said. ‘Come on through to my office. My husband is on his way, he’ll join us there.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ren.
But why are you talking like you’re auditioning for a Disney movie and/or musical? Disney ways. I get it. Janine, I love you.
Ren and Robbie followed Kristen Faule into a large room that was like a combination living space, office and bookstore. It had a beautiful stone fireplace with a yellow ceramic jug of flowers in the hearth. There was a smell of freshly cut wood and oil. Everything looked rugged, rustic, but new.
‘This is a beautiful room,’ said Ren.
‘Thank you,’ said Kristen. ‘We’ve just had it remodeled. I only moved back into it a month ago.’
‘It will age real well,’ said Ren. ‘I love the shelves.’
‘Hand-crafted,’ said Kristen. ‘They’re my favorite feature.’
‘And they must be custom file cabinets,’ said Ren.
She nodded. ‘They are. I hate the metal look. I wanted everything to have as natural a finish as it could.’
Instead of sitting at her desk, she guided them over to two facing sofas. They were all halted by the mountains of cushions on top.
