by Alex Barclay
‘What?’ said Ben. ‘Finish that sentence.’
No way. ‘Nothing,’ said Ren. ‘Nothing. I just want to work.’
‘Yeah, go ahead. Stay healthy.’
‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. Nothing.’
‘Grow the fuck up,’ said Ren.
‘I leave in the morning – I’d rather not leave like this.’
‘OK, I’ll come in and we can fuck, then I can get back to this.’
He hovered in the doorway. She turned around to him, waiting for an answer.
‘How does that sound?’ she said.
‘I’m tired, I’m just going to go back to sleep. Maybe we can have breakfast together.’
‘OK,’ said Ren. I’m an asshole. ‘Come here, give me a kiss before you go.’
The next morning, Ren made French toast, bacon, fruit salad, fresh juice and coffee. Ben arrived in the kitchen at seven a.m. Ren was flicking through another of Chloe’s notebooks.
Don’t mention sleep.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘This looks great.’
‘So do you. And so did my refrigerator when I opened it.’
‘Well, I know how it can get around here …’ He kissed her. ‘Did you get everything you wanted done?’
‘Yes. I’m on the verge of something. It’s like I have everything I need, I just need to put it all together. The answer is there.’
‘The answer as to where you will find Duke Rawlins?’
‘Why, exactly, is he here? Why now – at this point in time? He has his sights on Joe Lucchesi who’s here for his son’s graduation. But I don’t think that’s all there is to it.’
‘You’re sexy when you’re thinking.’ He smiled. ‘See what I did there?’
‘I’m always sexy! I like that. If it was true, then I’d be exactly like you.’
‘Ha! Which one of us is going to throw up first?’
‘Sorry about being cranky last night.’ You have no idea how much energy it takes for me not to explode.
‘You were just tired.’
I wasn’t in the least bit tired. Jesus. Which part of not tired … ‘Come on, let’s go back to bed so we can send you home on a high.’
48
Ren sat in the Jeep at a red light with another of Chloe Farraday’s notebooks open on the passenger seat beside her. She was flicking through it, and stopped when she came to a poster similar in style to one of Vincent Farraday’s concert posters, but hand-drawn by Chloe – it was a crude self-portrait, framed with lights, but instead of the name Chloe Farraday on the bottom, she had signed it ‘Dainty’ in fancy, teenage cursive. Dainty – just one word.
Jonathan Briar … the girl … the threesome … her name was Day Something – not Daisy, but … Dainty.
Ren’s cell phone rang. My dear Everett. ‘Hey, there, Renaldino. How was TX?’
‘It was XXL fun.’
‘That was an L at the end, right?’
‘Why, of course.’
‘So, I was calling you to give you a lil sum-sum …’
‘I think that’s a euphemism for sex, but go ahead.’
‘I followed up on your text on the roadie guy, and I have an address in Denver. I’m emailing it now.’
‘Anything on him?’
‘No priors, nothing shady. Respectable man, retired, sixty-eight years old, seems to spend his time in libraries and at readings, cultural stuff, music stuff, nothing weird.’
Ren checked Everett’s email and drove to Benny Jakes’ apartment building. She parked across the street, sat low in the seat watching people come and go. Every movement in her peripheral vision was making her twitch.
Not good.
She checked her watch. It was nine a.m. Not a good time to be watching for a girl who might sing in bars. She likely wouldn’t surface until midday. Unless she had another job. Unless she was working as a nurse or a carer. Fifteen minutes later, the door to the apartment building opened.
Ren sat up. ‘Yes.’ She took a photo on her phone.
She got out of the Jeep, let Chloe walk down the street a short distance, and crossed to meet her.
‘Chloe Farraday?’ said Ren. ‘Could I talk to you for a minute, please?’
‘It’s Dainty,’ she said.
Nasty. Mean. Like yo’ mama.
‘And who are you?’ said Dainty.
‘I’m a friend of your father’s,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but he’s not a well man. He’s got some money he’d like to pass along to you before he dies, before the lawyers get at it.’
Dainty looked left and right. She shrugged. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘First, I want you to know that there is someone else who is showing an interest in that money, and might like a piece of it. I’m wondering has he already approached you in any capacity? His name is Duke Rawlins.’
She showed Dainty the photo of Duke.
Dainty’s face lit up. She started laughing. ‘You’re all confused. That’s my boyfriend.’
The what now?
‘Your boyfriend?’ said Ren. ‘Since when?’
‘Like, two years.’
Oh. Fuck.
‘And what has he told you his name is?’ said Ren.
‘Told me?’ said Dainty. ‘No. His name just is. It’s Harris Riggs.’
Harris Hawks. Donald Riggs.
Jesus Christ.
49
What does this woman know about what Duke Rawlins has been doing? Or has she been operating as his accomplice in some way?
Fuck. I need backup.
‘Dainty – is there somewhere we can sit down and have a chat?’ said Ren. She looked around.
‘There’s a coffee shop on the corner?’ said Dainty.
What about somewhere nice and out in the open? ‘Why don’t we go into that park over there, sit down at that picnic bench. It’s a nice day.’ To tell someone they’re sleeping with their half-brother.
‘Sure,’ said Dainty, running her hand through her hair.
Little red dots in her elbow crease. Bruises on her arms.
Ren sat down opposite Dainty on the bench, and rested her forearms on the table.
‘How did you meet … Harris?’ said Ren.
‘In a bar,’ said Dainty. ‘I was having a hard time. I wasn’t in a good place, I guess. I liked to disappear into my music. I was singing one night, he came in, we got to talking.’ She shrugged. ‘We had a connection.’
‘Dainty,’ said Ren, ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that this man’s real name is Duke Rawlins. His mother is Wanda Rawlins. His mother is your mother: Wanda.’
Dainty shook her head. ‘What? You’re saying Harris is what – my half-brother?’ She laughed loud. ‘No, he is not. Mama didn’t have any other kids. Me and Robin were the only ones. You’re talking shit. And I have no idea why.’
‘This man’s name is not Harris Riggs,’ said Ren. ‘It’s Duke Rawlins. Does the name mean anything to you?’
Dainty shook her head again. ‘No. How do you know my father?’
‘He hired me to find you and Robin,’ said Ren. ‘I’m going to show you something to prove to you who Harris really is.’ She took out her phone and called up the articles on Donnie Riggs from 2004. She turned the screen around to show Dainty.
‘This is Donald Riggs,’ said Ren. ‘He came from Stinger’s Creek, Texas. Your mother came from Stinger’s Creek, Texas. You can ask your father. You can ask your father about Duke Rawlins.’
She found photos of Duke and showed them to Dainty. She watched her scan his face, add and remove the parts that were familiar to her.
Dainty Farraday started to shake. The color drained from her face. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. You got this all wrong. You got this all wrong. You are a crazy bitch.’
Dainty bent down, resting her forearms on her knees. She looked like she was trying to compose herself … or preparing to throw up. In a toss of blonde hair, she straightened up. With a knife in her ha
nd. She jumped up and was suddenly beside Ren.
What the fuck?
Ren slid away from her and stood up.
Dainty lunged for her, swiping down hard.
Well, fuck you!
Ren deflected, throwing Dainty’s arm back, sending the knife skittering across the grass.
Fuuuuck. Ren shook out her arm. Fuck, that hurt.
Dainty ran. Ren ran after her.
You bitch. You will not outrun me.
Ren ran.
Oh, the beautiful pain. The beautiful pain.
She was gaining on Dainty.
‘Stop,’ shouted Ren. ‘Federal agent. Put your hands over your head—’
‘Fuck you, lady,’ said Dainty, still running. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Fuck YOU!’ said Ren. Don’t take me on, bitch. Do not take me on.
Ren accelerated. She could feel the pain searing in her calves, her hamstrings, her glutes.
She was within feet. She dived. She caught Dainty’s legs, brought her down hard. Ren rolled, took the fall well, gripped the bony frame of Dainty Farraday.
But Dainty bucked, kicked her leg up, pulled another knife from her filthy white cowboy boot. She brought the blade down, aiming for Ren’s forearm. Ren turned away and the knife went into the grass.
Two knives?! You psycho bitch!
She punched Dainty in the face. She punched her again.
Dainty kicked out, caught Ren’s jaw. Ren grabbed her ankle, spun her away. She reached for her sidearm.
Oh, shit.
She looked up. She was looking at her sidearm. And Dainty Farraday was on the other side of it.
‘You fucked-up bitch,’ said Dainty. ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
Ren nodded. ‘You need to lower the weapon, Dainty. You need to drop it right now.’
Dainty stared at her.
What is going on in your junk-addled, brother-fucking mind?
‘You haven’t a clue, lady,’ said Dainty.
Ren’s heart was pounding.
‘And that makes you lucky,’ said Dainty. ‘Wanna know why? Because I want to come back and look you in the eye, I want to come back, so I can tell you how you’ve got it all wrong. So I can make sure myself that you know that. I can look you right in the eye.’
Ren struggled to get up.
Dainty threw the gun at her and ran.
Ren went over and sat on the bench.
That family is like a brand: Rawlins Killings, Est. 19whatever. Wanda Rawlins, face of the operation—
Oh. My. God.
Wanda Rawlins.
‘I did a terrible thing. Something terrible brought me here.’
Vincent Farraday said Wanda Rawlins had a tattoo of Duke on her shoulder.
The Jane Doe … was Wanda Rawlins.
That night, when she was being brought to the hospital, she tried to burn her son’s face off her shoulder because she knew it would connect them.
Duke Rawlins kept his own mother chained up, tortured and beaten.
50
Ren called the Douglas County Sheriff’s Office on the drive to Safe Streets.
‘Could I speak with Undersheriff Rodeal?’ she said. ‘It’s Ren Bryce, Safe Streets.’
Rodeal came on the line. ‘Hey, Ren.’
‘Sorry, Cole – but what the FUCK?’
‘Ren? Excuse me? I could say the same to you.’
‘You were handling that Jane Doe in Sedalia,’ said Ren. ‘And you didn’t run her DNA?’
‘What?’
‘She wasn’t entered into the system, because if she was, she would have come up as a familial match with her son, Duke Fucking Rawlins. That was his mama, Rodeal. We could have had that connection.’
‘Ren, you wouldn’t have got the results back by now, even if I had run it.’
‘I might have!’ said Ren.
‘Well, not judging by our current backlogs, no you would not.’
‘Still! That’s a pretty big thing to overlook.’
‘Are you calling me to give me a talk on how to carry out my job, Agent?’
‘No! I’m just mad.’
‘Well, go be mad to someone else about it.’
‘Thanks for taking my call.’
‘Any time.’
Ren called Janine to tell her about what had happened with Dainty Farraday. She got her voicemail.
‘Call me … I have crazy news about Chloe Farraday. She nearly killed me.’
Her phone rang. Gary.
Deep breath.
‘Ren, just to let you know, I’m taking Karen to an appointment this morning. I’ll be back in the afternoon.’
‘No problem,’ said Ren.
‘Just tell everyone I’m—’
‘No need to say another word,’ said Ren. ‘See you this afternoon.’
I hope Karen is OK.
When she got into Safe Streets, she held a briefing and, with Joe, went through everything they had found out in Texas, and the events of the morning with Dainty Farraday. Ren left out the part about Dainty taking her gun.
‘We’re issuing a BOLO for Chloe “Dainty” Farraday,’ said Ren. ‘She should be considered armed and dangerous. She is twenty-six years old, Caucasian, blonde hair, green eyes, one hundred pounds soaking wet. She speaks with a strong Texas accent. We have no recent photo of her. She is a screwed-up, lost-and-crazy-looking mess. I have no idea how she will react to what happened today … run to her man or run from him: love him more or strangle him with her bare hands. There is something feral about Dainty Farraday. She was once the privileged child of a successful father and born-again-Christian mother, whose life went to shit in a spectacular way when her mother got hooked on heroin again. And she’s just found out she’s been sleeping with her half-brother. She looked unhinged when I told her, but I’m not sure she looked particularly hinged from the get-go.
‘She’s been living in an apartment owned by a man called Benny Jakes, who apparently has no idea what’s going on. We don’t know exactly what Dainty Farraday knew about what Duke Rawlins has been doing – if she operated as his accomplice in some way. But when we showed Jonathan Briar her photo, he confirmed that she was the girl he and Hope Coulson had a threesome with. Everett emailed the photo to Manny’s bar, and they’ve confirmed Dainty as one of the singers who had performed on the night that Carrie Longman was there. She sang that song; those are her lyrics. And, apparently, the song title was “Croon On, Motherfucker”, and was about her father, so no love lost there. That poor man.
‘We also need to be aware that, if she is Rawlins’ accomplice, and she’s drawn us her way, he is likely to dump her … i.e. kill her. She, however, probably has no clue that this is what lies ahead for her.’
Gary arrived in after lunch and called Ren into his office.
‘I’m setting a world record here,’ he said.
Oh, Jesus. Blind fury.
He slammed his hands onto the desk.
‘Where do I start? This morning, heading to an apartment building alone …’
‘But—’
‘And, not only that, but ripping Rodeal a new one? Are you out of your mind?’
‘So, let me get this straight,’ said Ren. ‘You called me in here to shout at me … for shouting at someone else because it’s unprofessional.’
‘I’m not shouting—’
‘Yes, you are. Maybe I didn’t think I was shouting either …’
‘Ren, so help me God, if you turn one more admonishment around to make you the victim, I swear I will fire you right there and then.’
‘Gary – Douglas County fucked up! They didn’t run Wanda Rawlins’ DNA through the system—’
‘It wouldn’t have mattered! You know that! Let it go. The lab wouldn’t have processed it in time.’
‘But still—’
He sat back in his chair, flung his pen across the room. ‘Just … just …’
‘Sorry, but that was unprofessional of Rodeal …’
Gary was
struggling to maintain his composure.
‘From the woman who had a knife pulled on her today?’ said Gary. ‘Jesus Christ.’ He stood up. ‘Do you know something? Do you know what’s happened here? I’ve taken my eye off the ball and I have found myself riding the Ren Bryce rollercoaster again. It’s a fucking nightmare ride! Get out of my office.’
Ren walked down the hallway, tears stinging her eyes. Everett walked toward her. They stopped.
‘The shouting that time?’ she said. ‘That was for me.’
‘Yikes,’ said Everett. ‘I couldn’t hear what he said, but … I think I got the gist. You’re up for Employee of the Month?’
Ren laughed and cried at the same time.
Everett squeezed her arm. ‘Hang in there. Do what he wants. And don’t go chasing skanks or serial killers or waterfalls on your own, girlfriend. What has gotten into you?’
‘Oh, you don’t know me long enough – that’s all.’
Ren went into the bullpen. ‘Where’s Janine?’
‘Doesn’t she have a day off?’ said Everett.
‘No – that was yesterday,’ said Ren. ‘She was going to hang out with her friend, Terri. Has Terri been on any nights out you were on?’
‘No,’ said Everett. ‘Why?’
‘She’s just a little … like a secret friend. I don’t know – it’s weird.’
‘It’s probably just different friends from different worlds,’ said Everett.
But what if it’s something sinister? ‘You know there’s a killer out there …’ She tried to laugh.
‘Yes, and Janine has befriended her, of course …’ said Everett.
Ren’s heart started to pound. Janine is tiny and breakable and Duke Rawlins’ type. Without the blonde hair. But Carrie Longman was a brunette … Stop.
She went into the conference room, called Janine, and got her voicemail again. ‘Hey, now Gary is trying to kill me too. Call me.’
Ren went back in to Gary. ‘Sorry to bother you again,’ she said, ‘but do you know the whereabouts of one Detective Janine Hooks?’
‘No,’ said Gary.
‘But—’
‘Text her,’ said Gary.
‘I have, and I’ve left her voicemails.’
‘How long have you been trying to get a hold of her?’
‘A few times …’