by Alex Barclay
‘Thank you,’ said Ren. I don’t know if I can ever bear to see you again.
‘I’m so sorry about your friends,’ said Joe. ‘You lost good men.’
Tears welled in her eyes. Don’t cry. You might never stop. She managed to nod.
‘Joe …’
Maybe don’t say it.
He looked at her, waited.
Don’t. It won’t be the right thing to say.
‘What?’ said Joe.
Biology is one thing. But Duke Rawlins is gone. He’s dead. He lives on nowhere.
‘Nothing,’ said Ren.
‘If you’re ever in New York …’ said Joe.
‘Thanks,’ said Ren. ‘Safe trip.’
‘Daddy!’ they heard. They both turned to see Grace and Camille walking toward them. Grace started to run.
Her little bowed legs …
Ren gritted her teeth.
Tears, tears, threatening tears.
‘Gracie!’ He crouched down, holding out his arms. She jumped into them, burying her head into his neck, just like the first time Ren had seen her.
Tears spilled down Ren’s face.
Not in front of Grace. No.
She wiped them swiftly away.
She could see the same from Joe as he kissed Grace’s head.
‘I missed you so much,’ he said, so intensely Ren could barely stand to watch.
Joe blinked away his tears, pulled himself back from Grace and stared into her eyes.
Please find nothing there of Duke Rawlins. Please.
‘Missed you too, Daddy!’
‘What are you doing back in Denver?’ said Joe.
‘We’re going on vacation!’ said Grace.
Joe frowned. Camille was smiling.
‘We’re going to Disney World!’ said Grace. ‘You, me, Shaun, Camille, Granddad, Pam!’
‘Did you get a job while you were gone?’ said Joe. ‘You’re treating us all to a vacation.’
Grace laughed. ‘Granddad got us tickets.’
And could never have imagined this weekend was going to end on anything but a graduation high.
Joe raised his eyebrows at Ren. The see-I-told-you-my-dad-has-to-play-the-bigshot look.
‘Well, Granddad did a wonderful thing,’ said Joe.
‘She helped!’ said Grace, pointing to Ren.
Well, of course.
‘She told us your flight number, your flight time!’ said Grace. ‘Shaun is on the way!’
Joe was barely keeping it together.
Distract. Distract.
‘You have fun,’ said Ren. ‘Lots of it. Extra for me.’
‘Yay!’ said Grace.
Joe smiled, hugged Grace tighter, kissed her sandy hair.
Ren walked away.
Love. Conquers. All.
73
Ren kept walking toward the exit.
I will tell Ben nothing to hurt him, and I will never hurt him again. I know my triggers. I will not place myself at the end of that barrel. I vow to be well, to be sober, to be in control.
You will never be in control.
Yes I will.
You won’t.
I can try.
You will fail. You always do.
I will fight harder.
You’ve said that before.
I will not fail.
You are helpless.
I am not helpless.
You are. You are sick.
I’m not sick.
Look at the destruction you crave.
I don’t crave destruction.
It always finds you. You find it. You are magnetized. You are dark, magnetic, black as Duke Rawlins.
I am white light.
You are delusional.
I’m a good person.
I am louder than your kindest thought. I win. I always win. You’re a mess, you always will be, you’ll always feel, in your soul, that everything is about to go wrong and it’s all your fault. Because it is your fault. You’re the bomb. You’re about to blow up. Didn’t that resonate with you? Ha. You and inside your head and Duke Rawlins and inside his. It’s an adjoining hall of fucking mirrors. That’s what this is. You can’t escape it. There are only mirrors, no doors, no windows. Blinding reflection.
NO! NO! NO!
Ren stopped, stood still, took out her cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts.
Everett. Her heart sank. She kept scrolling until she saw Robbie’s name.
Hurt yourself more. Go on. Hurt. Do it. Dial them. Hear their messages. Hear them tell you they’ll return your call. But they never will. You will never hear their voices again, never laugh with them. Suffocating thought, isn’t it? You’re powerless. You can’t change that. Ever. They’re gone.
Ren started to cry. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired.
Kill yourself, then. What’s the point? End it.
She struggled to breathe through the tears.
Call Ben. He’ll help you. Even though you know you hurt him. And you’re a liar. You selfish bitch.
I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t want to. I don’t know what happened.
You can’t help it is what happened. You’re weak and indulgent.
I love Ben. With all my heart.
No, you don’t. You have no clue what love is. You’re one of those people.
No, I’m not.
You are! All you do is ruin love. You wouldn’t ruin something so beautiful if you truly knew what it was?
I … don’t understand it myself. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Ren slumped onto an empty bench, buried her head in her hands. Tears poured down her face.
I can’t go any further. I can’t move. Oh God. I can’t breathe. Please no one see me. Security’s going to come. What will I say? I’ve lost my mind. I’ll be sedated and carried away and … breathe. Breathe.
I am louder than your kindest thought.
Get. Help.
She sat on the bench, breathed, thought of nice things, breathed, controlled it.
Just get to the Jeep. Get that far.
She sat into the Jeep and started the engine.
Regular things, aftermath, regular things.
She drove.
I’m going home to no real home.
Pack a bag, go to Janine’s. You’re going to Janine’s.
She felt relief at this one small certainty.
Minutes from the apartment, the phone rang.
Gary. Don’t get into it. He has problems of his own.
She picked up. ‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m home, I checked myself out. I’m good. Ren, where are you exactly? We need to talk. Could you stop by the house?’
But Ren had trailed off. She was looking ahead. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘I gotta go, Gary. There’s … it’s, it’s … it’s my brother! Outside my apartment!’
She ended the call. She parked the car, jumped up, ran to Matt, threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God.’
Tears were spilling down his face. He couldn’t speak. He was just holding her as she cried.
‘How did you know what happened?’ she said. ‘I mean … how did you get here so soon?’
Oh, God. What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with his face?
‘What is it?’ said Ren. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, Ren … Wait ’til we get inside—’
‘No!’ said Ren, ‘No! What is it? Is it mom? Dad? Ethan?’
‘I don’t know how to tell you this …’
‘What is it?’ said Ren.
Matt gripped her arms, looked her in the eyes. ‘Gary called me a few days ago. He … was worried you weren’t taking your meds. He said you kept denying it. He was … at a loss what to do.’
‘He called you?’ said Ren. ‘A few days ago? Oh my God.’ Was I that bad? ‘Showing signs of mania’. But why are we talking about this?
‘Not just me,’ said Matt. ‘He called Ben too. He flew in yesterday afternoon – my flight
was delayed. We were supposed to meet Gary and you and Janine and Robbie in the office.’
Oh, no. Oh, no. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. ‘So … was … was that meeting yesterday … that was supposed to be an intervention?’ Ren put her hand to her mouth then took it away to let the words tumble out. ‘What the fuck? Oh no. Oh my God.’ She paused. ‘Hold on … where’s Ben? If he flew in yesterday? I’ve been trying to get hold of him all night.’
Matt, wonderful, sensitive, kind Matt, managed to answer, despite his quivering mouth, and the tears now pouring down his face. ‘I’m so sorry, Ren. I’m so sorry … he was in Safe Streets when Duke Rawlins arrived.’
‘What? Ben?’
‘He arrived early … he … he … was shot instantly. He died, Ren. I’m so sorry.’
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Someone would have heard. I went in that way. I saw—’
‘Rawlins used a silencer—’
‘No!’ said Ren. ‘I was in that lobby. There was no one there apart from that poor realtor, Valerie. Just Valerie’s body … on the floor … no one else. I swear to God—’
‘He’s gone, Ren,’ said Matt. ‘Ben’s gone, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.’
‘But …’ He can’t be! She stared at Matt. Her heart plunged. Oh no – the basement … the basement door was banging. Oh my God. Is that where he put him? Threw him down into the basement? That’s what he did with him?
She studied Matt’s face.
‘He died instantly,’ said Matt. ‘It was a single gunshot. He didn’t suffer.’
Ren pressed her hands to her mouth, her voice muffled as she cried. ‘No … no … no.’ Tears poured down her face, spilling over her hands. ‘No.’
Not Ben. Not my gorgeous Ben who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
This is not my life. This is not my life. This is not my life.
‘No,’ she said, collapsing into Matt’s arms. ‘No. No. No. No.’
This is all my fault.
This is all my fault.
Now you can buy the first three books in the Agent Ren Bryce series in one!
‘Gripping, stylish, convincing’ Sunday Times (Ireland)
‘Tense, no-punches-pulled thriller that will have you on the edge of your deckchair.’ Woman and Home
‘The rising star of the crime fiction world, combining wild characters, surprising plots and massive backdrops with a touch of dry humour’ Mirror
‘Excellent’ Sunday Telegraph
Click here to buy the Agent Ren Bryce Thriller series books 1-3
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my agent, Marianne Gunn O’Connor, who brings light wherever she goes. Thanks also to Vicki Satlow, and to Pat Lynch.
To Sarah Hodgson, my talented editor and novel enhancement specialist, thank you so much for all your thorough and thoughtful work.
Many thanks to Kate Elton and the entire team at HarperCollins.
To Charlie Redmayne, thank you for your dedication to authors and the stories they have to tell.
Big thanks and congratulations to Kate Stephenson.
Thank you, Lucy Dauman, for your organisational talents.
Thank you to supreme copy-editor, Anne O’Brien.
Thank you to Tony Purdue for making things happen.
To Darley Anderson, special thanks for your support, wisdom, and friendship.
To SA Phil Niedringhaus, I always appreciate your swift, enlightening responses, and entertaining one-liners. Thank you, again.
To Cheryl Moore, Investigator with the Jefferson County District Attorney’s Office, thank you once more for being so generous with your time and knowledge.
To Ger McDonnell, thank you for your kickstarting serial killer counsel.
Thank you to Anam Cara’s Sue Booth-Forbes, who, with heart, dedication and energy, powers limitless creative dreams.
To my lawful sister Lanes of the extraordinary brain, thank you so much for always being there to listen, read, support, and crack me up.
Thank you, Ian Fahey – I couldn’t have done it without you, buuuhd. Thank you, also, for playing House of Cards; “I love this game!”
To Dick Tobin, thank you for your considered reading, and plot inspiration.
To Donagh Wiseman, thank you for coming to my rescue and making this book Airborne.
To Aaron Byrne at The Web CTB, thank you for your speedy proofs processing.
Thank you and huge love to my family.
To my friends, thank you for being the best in the world.
And the award for Best Supporting Role in a Crime Drama goes to Paul Kelly.
About the Author
Alex Barclay lives in County Cork, Ireland. She is the bestselling author of Darkhouse, The Caller, Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss, and Harm’s Reach.
For more information about Alex Barclay and her books, please visit her website, www.alexbarclay.co.uk
Also by Alex Barclay
Darkhouse
The Caller
Blood Runs Cold
Time of Death
Blood Loss
Harm’s Reach
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