Blood Runs Cold (15 page)

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, because “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
.

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.’

‘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.’

‘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.