by Alex Barclay
‘The loser,’ said Colin.
‘Are you feeling better?’ said Robbie.
Ren nodded. ‘I am. I have drunk more water in four hours than –’
‘Alcohol, hopefully,’ said Colin.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘I actually wasn’t drinking last night,’ she said. ‘I had just arrived here, as you know.’ She turned to Cliff. ‘So, what did I miss?’
‘Not a lot, I’m afraid,’ said Cliff. ‘The cadaver dog sat down, barked – his “alert” to show he picked up a scent – but his handler said that could have been from Sonny Bryant. Apparently the smell of death kicks in the moment a person dies. And we all smell the same dead, so it’s not like the dog can distinguish …’
‘Do we?’ said Robbie.
‘Yup, apparently,’ said Cliff.
‘That’s kind of depressing,’ said Ren.
‘Oh, you want to smell especially different when you’re dead?’ said Colin.
‘Shut the fuck up, Colin,’ said Ren.
‘So the dog was indicating there was a scent there, but he didn’t physically find anything,’ said Cliff.
‘So,’ said Ren, ‘what’s the plan for going back up?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Robbie. ‘It was risky heading up there to begin with. SAR’s saying no way.’
Ren took another mouthful of water. ‘Shit.’
‘You want to look at the photos?’ said Robbie.
‘Sure. I love your photos. You really are very good,’ said Ren. ‘You could have an exhibition – Truax: Scenes from Scenes.’ If the location was interesting, Robbie shot landscapes from crime scenes.
Ren reached out for the digital camera.
‘Am I going to find any photographs of an intimate nature here?’ she said.
‘Only the ones we took on Colin’s desk that night,’ said Robbie.
Ren turned on the camera. The first series of photos were exterior shots of a bank the task force had been surveiling. She ran through them quickly and got to the morning photos at the trailhead and up at the site. She reached for her bag and her USB cable and downloaded them into iPhoto.
She put her elbow on the desk, rested her chin on her hand, and started to go through the photos slowly. The guys took seats at different computers and started searching databases and making calls. When Ren reached the last of the photos, she went back to the start. She stopped at one, zoomed and leaned in close.
‘Robbie? Did that cadaver dog get in there before you took these?’
Robbie shook his head. ‘No. Jesus, why do I always get a hard time about contamination …’
‘No, you don’t, baby,’ said Ren. ‘No, it’s just that, look – are those paw prints in the snow?’
Robbie came over to look. ‘Paws? Are you sure?’
‘Looks that way to me,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not exactly Ren of the Mountains.’
‘Could it have been an avalanche rescue dog?’ said Robbie.
‘There was none,’ said Ren. ‘It would have been too late. I went into everything with Bob: it was snowing when they were taking the bodies down, but there was no snowfall later that night. So, something was up there after the body was recovered, but before this morning.’
Colin and Cliff came over.
‘I don’t know,’ said Colin. ‘It’s either shadows in the snow. Or it could or critters.’
‘Yeah,’ said Cliff.
‘What do you think?’ said Robbie, squeezing Ren’s shoulders, looking over them.
‘Could there have been a dog up there last night?’ said Ren.
‘And if there was?’ said Colin.
Ren shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it’s interesting.’
‘Why?’ said Colin.
‘Jesus. Did you drive your mama nuts when you were a kid?’ said Ren. She ignored the smart-ass face she could see reflected in her laptop screen. ‘And look,’ she said, pointing again to the photo, ‘right around here, there are other markings too, little disturbances in the surface.’
‘It’s just … I’m wondering why those paw prints – if that’s what they are – would matter a damn,’ said Colin. ‘What – you think some other dog already found the body?’
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I mean, you looked all over that snow when you went back up, right? You would have noticed if something had been dug up, covered over. You couldn’t hide that. You would have seen where a shovel had tamped down the snow. It would be harder. And there was no snowfall to cover it up after.’
‘Yeah,’ said Colin. ‘That’s my point.’
‘And my point is that paw prints up there are interesting,’ said Ren.
‘And possibly completely irrelevant,’ said Colin, walking away. The others moved back to their desks.
Ren went to close iPhoto, but she hit a folder and sprung open a screen full of her and Vincent’s smiling faces – alone or hanging out with their friends. They were holding up random objects, bending over furniture, pointing at things, flashing wide grins. She smiled. And felt miserable. She scrolled slowly through some more, but every one tried to draw emotions from places she had locked up.
‘Where’s Gary?’ she said, closing her computer.
‘With Bob and Mike,’ said Colin. ‘I think they just got back to Bob’s office.’
Ren got up and went in to them, forcing herself to take a bottle of water with her.
Bob was alone on a phone call. He smiled at her and gave her the signal he was nearly done. She grabbed a Jolly Rancher from a bowl by the window and sat down. The television was on a shelf behind her, silent but tuned to the news. Bob finished up.
‘So, how you doing?’ he said.
‘I’m fine. I’m fine,’ said Ren.
‘Good.’
‘I believe we didn’t get much up there today.’
‘We got nothing.’
‘I saw the photos,’ she said. ‘It looked like maybe a dog had been up there already.’
Bob gave her a big-deal shrug.
‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘So … why do you think the body was left on Quandary Peak?’
‘Because that’s where she was killed,’ said Bob, deadpan.
‘Jurisdiction-wise, the Sheriff’s Office has got the unincorporated parts of the county. Anything not in the township is yours, right?’ said Ren.
‘Right,’ said Bob. He paused. ‘Aha – you’re saying this could be a killer who just wants me to take charge of the investigation, knowing that the case will never be solved …’
Ren laughed. ‘Shame on you. But you know what I mean about Quandary Peak.’
He shrugged. ‘It might have some significance. Or it might not.’
‘I’d understand if they were going to throw the body down a mine shaft,’ said Ren, ‘it’s a good place to dump a corpse. Not convenient, though. But leaving it just laying there …’
‘We don’t know where that body started out,’ said Bob.
‘Yeah, but it’s not likely it was in a mine,’ said Ren. ‘The killer would have to be some mean weightlifting, skiing, Houdini.’
‘It could have been opportunistic,’ said Bob. ‘Someone’s up there, runs into her, kills her.’
‘If I was hiding out in below freezing, I’d be too numb to pounce on anyone. I don’t know, but I guess I’m imagining a struggle between two people in snowsuits, like inflatable Sumo wrestlers. It wouldn’t be easy.’
‘Not everyone wants easy. And not everyone kills in slim-fitting clothing.’
Ren smiled. ‘And no body, no trace, no prints …’
‘Yup. The lab is not going to be our friend on this one.’
‘But time is,’ said Ren, standing up. ‘Can you get all your guys together?’
‘Sure.’
‘OK. I’ll get Gary, we’ll go talk to them. I’d like them to be very visibly all over town right away. Plagues of locusts. We have agents coming in from all over, but me, Colin, Cliff and Robbie will be working out of here for as long as we need to.’
‘Is that so
?’ He smiled.
‘If you’ll have us …’ she said, smiling back. ‘Oh, and if your guys could report back to me directly, that would be great.’
Her cellphone rang. ‘Excuse me for one second,’ she said.
‘Agent Bryce, hello – it’s Patrick Transom here.’
‘Oh, hello, Mr Transom.’ She looked up at Bob and shrugged.
‘I was speaking with Sheriff Gage and I know that Jean’s body hasn’t been found. He said the next step was just to wait. That’s a very hard thing to do. Have you or does the FBI have a different view on that?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ren. ‘Nature isn’t helping any of us on this one. We went up as soon as we could, and that’s all we can do right now.’
‘OK,’ said Patrick. ‘OK. Uh … I was down at the trailhead and I saw you leave early. I didn’t get a chance to go over and talk to you. I was just wondering if there was somewhere important you needed to be …’
What? ‘I’m sorry, I …’
‘Oh,’ said Patrick, ‘just that – were you called away from the scene to, I don’t know, investigate a lead or something?’
Jesus Christ. ‘No, I wasn’t,’ said Ren.
‘OK. Then why –’
‘My colleagues have given me a full report of their visit to Quandary Peak, Mr Transom. And I have another meeting to attend now, I’m afraid.’
‘Sheriff Gage said that there was no trace evidence found.’
‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate the massive disturbance of an avalanche. But despite what …’ you see on television ‘… you might think, very few cases are solved because of trace evidence. It’s usually down to good old-fashioned investigation. And as you know, we have the best resources possible at our disposal.’
‘Yes, that’s true. Well, I’ll let you get to your meeting. Thank you for taking my call.’
‘Any time,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sorry we were unable to recover Jean’s body today, Mr Transom. I really am.’
‘Me, too.’
‘Take care.’ Ren put the phone down. She looked at Bob. ‘Wow. Intense.’
‘“Good old-fashioned investigation”,’ said Bob. ‘I liked that.’
‘Shut up.’
‘What was the “no, I wasn’t” all about?’
‘He spotted me leaving the trailhead early. It was a bit creepy.’
‘That’s not creepy. He was there, you were walking by. It’s not like he’s showing you grainy footage he took of you on his cellphone from your backyard.’
‘That is true,’ said Ren. ‘I just don’t like the feeling of being watched.’
‘Gives you the feebie-jeebies?’
Ren smiled. ‘I just hope he’s not going to be on my back for this. He’s a nice man, but …’
‘Don’t worry about that for now, Ren.’
‘I know, I know. I overthink.’
‘I underthink.’
‘Yin–yang.’
‘Dumb–dumber.’
13
Mike Delaney walked in to Bob’s office with two large bottles of water and a giant, battered-looking bottle of Vitamin C tablets. He handed them to Ren.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How you doing?’
‘Much better, thank you. Dr Barger confirmed our findings …’
He smiled.
‘Thanks for these,’ said Ren. ‘You’re very kind. Now, what I also need is a list of people who regularly go up Quandary Peak.’
Bob and Mike shot glances at each other.
‘Undersheriff Delaney,’ said Bob, ‘could you call in the three thousand residents and, let me see, five thousand tourons currently spending time in Breckenridge. Rustle up some sandwiches and soup, keep them talky.’
‘Tourons?’ said Ren.
‘Tourist plus moron,’ said Bob.
Ren smiled. ‘What I meant,’ she said, ‘was, you know, people who have a reason to be up there –’
‘I repeat,’ said Bob, ‘Undersheriff Delaney …’
Ren laughed. ‘For example, Search and Rescue, Forest Services, the groomers, gondola people …’
‘People employed to be up there,’ said Bob. ‘Does it matter? Employed, up there to ski, up there to snowboard, up there for the holy hell of it …’
‘Just go with me,’ said Ren. ‘Please. I have to start somewhere and I might as well have a list that doesn’t run into the – as you may have mentioned a few times – thousands.’
Bob smiled. ‘OK, we’ll put that together, but it’ll still be a long list.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Ren. ‘With the kind help of your team, we should be able to get through it quickly enough. And, Bob …? You should move your desk. It’s bad Feng Shui to have your back to the door. Something about being stabbed in the back.’
Bob smiled.
‘Anyway, thanks again,’ said Ren.
‘I’ll call if I need any more decorating help,’ said Bob.
‘I’ll draw you up some plans …’ said Ren. ‘OK, I’m going to head over to Glenwood. And when I get back, I’ll be just three doors down from you with the other Safe Streeters. Please thank whoever had to vacate that nice office for us.’
‘Yeah,’ said Bob. ‘Your desk’s the one facing away from the door.’
Conoco was Ren’s last landmark when she drove off I-70. She took the next left and swung into the small parking lot of the Glenwood Springs RA. She looked up at the building: three stories, pale yellow brick, normal. No history like the Livestock Exchange Building – not a place to harbor a giant urinal. She walked into the quiet foyer and took the elevator to the third floor. The door was jammed open. She rang the bell and walked in.
‘Hello? Agent Gressett? Agent Austerval?’
‘Hello,’ she heard back. ‘Be right with you.’ Tiny Gressett came out with one hand on his belt. ‘Oh … Ren. It’s nice to see you again.’
‘You too.’
They both looked at each other as if they were thinking the same thing; the number of sentences in life that were assigned to bullshit.
‘Follow me,’ he said.
They walked a short hallway into the office. Gressett gestured around the room. ‘This is … was Jean’s desk right here.’
‘It’s terrible what happened to her, so unfair.’
‘What’s fair?’ said Gressett with an explosive snap.
Jesus Christ.
‘What’s fair?’ he said again. ‘Have you any idea? Do you know something none of the rest of us don’t?’
‘I’m … I just meant I’m sorry.’
Gressett paused and let out a breath. He pointed to the wall beside Jean’s desk. There were plaques, certificates and framed awards. Ren leaned in. She had most of them herself and a few others.
‘Very impressive,’ said Ren.
‘I’d take Jean Transom as my right-hand man any day of the week.’
Ren nodded and moved toward Jean’s seat. ‘I’m just going to have a look through her desk and files, see if there’s anything …’
‘Go ahead,’ said Gressett. His tone said you’re not going to find anything. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’
‘Thanks, that would be great.’
She sat down and pulled the files on the desktop toward her. They were a mix of cases: drugs, bank fraud and embezzlement, child abuse, one crime aboard an aircraft, domestic abuse, theft from interstate shipments, robbery, unlawful flight to avoid prosecution. There was a folder called ‘RUTH’. Inside were photocopies of child sexual assault files. There were eight files – each marked with colored, numbered tabs – twelve different girls and the abuse they had suffered. It spanned almost thirty years of offences, including indecent exposure, fondling, attempted abduction, and rape, carried out across Summit and Garfield Counties.
Ren casually started re-arranging the files in date order. She could see Gressett almost climbing over his desk to look at what she was doing.
‘Was Jean working this file alone?’ said Ren, holding it up. ‘The littl
e girls and the perverts. These appear to be photocopies of original files whose numbers I’m guessing are the references here on these little tabs.’
Gressett came over from his desk and looked at the file. He leaned in and closed the cover. ‘RUTH – yes, I’ve seen this on Jean’s desk. She handled any of the child sexual abuse cases here in the RA.’ He opened it again. ‘These are all different girls.’
‘Yes,’ said Ren.
‘Oh,’ said Gressett. ‘I had assumed it was just one girl called Ruth Something.’
Ren went through the photocopies. ‘OK – there is one girl here called Ruth. But the file doesn’t have a tab on it. Actually, it seems to be the only one that doesn’t have a tab … or a photo … or a last name … or a location … or a date. So I’m wondering,’ said Ren, ‘what it’s doing here.’
‘Well, I can’t help you with any of that,’ said Gressett going back to his desk.
‘I guess Jean must have figured all these cases were linked.’
Gressett nodded. ‘I guess so.’
The two most recent assaults were on top of the pile and had happened within the previous twelve months. Ren cross-referenced the numbers and pulled out the files. The assaults – indecent exposure and attempted abduction – had originally been reported to Frisco PD and Silverthorne PD. Jean had then interviewed the little girls and typed up the transcripts.
Ren read through them. Impressive. Jean had clearly developed a way of interviewing children that elicited a lot more information than a traumatized child would normally volunteer.
‘I guess it is just one of many files Jean was working on,’ said Gressett.
Subtle.
‘Besides,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t exactly occupying her time any time recently. The latest incident was in October last year – that much I do know, because it was at Hallowe’en.’
Ren nodded. ‘Had Jean any leads?’
‘Just lists of known sex offenders and no evidence to link them to anything.’ He shrugged.
‘They are real clever in the children they choose and how they cover their tracks …’
Gressett nodded and went back to his computer.
No editorializing with Tiny Gressett.
14
Ren pulled another slim pile of print-outs from the back of Jean’s desk.