by Alex Barclay
‘Yes.’
Ren’s pause stretched for half a minute, time that Helen still didn’t break into.
‘I know this sounds stupid, OK?’ said Ren eventually. ‘But I’m like, oh my God, what if they’ve bugged the bar? What if Billy and I are sitting there or, you know … and they’re listening in to everything?’ Her voice sped up, the sentences rushing out of her, riding a wave of panic. ‘I’m screwed. My career’s ruined. My life is over. I love my job I –’
‘Ren, whoa, whoa. Think about all this logically. What would Billy be under suspicion for?’
‘Anything! The murder, drugs, UFAP …’
‘What is you-fap?’
‘Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution.’
‘And is Billy on the lam?’
‘Well, no …’
‘And who is the “they” you’re referring to when you say “they’re listening in”?’
Ren shrugged, then said, ‘I don’t know. Other agents. Another agency. Maybe one of his former suppliers. Gangs like that, they won’t let things go. Those feuds are lifelong. I mean, feud is not even the word. You’d need a new word for what that is. It’s a violent –’
‘Ren, Ren, slow down, OK? You would know if the bar was being wire-tapped by law enforcement, right? Realistically.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Ren after another long pause.
‘And can we agree it’s unlikely any gangs are bugging the bar? Aren’t they the type to just show up and blast him away?’
Ren let out a reluctant laugh. ‘Yes. I guess so.’
‘So why are you working yourself up?’ said Helen.
‘It’s just … I guess I’m freaked out. I love my job. There’s nothing else I can do. I don’t want to screw up. I’m worried I already have. I –’
‘Ren, has the case suffered yet because of you?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going through the tasks you have been given and that you have created using your experience and your observations?’
Ren paused. ‘Yes.’
‘OK, so why don’t you take a little break from beating yourself up? Why not say, “Well done, Ren. Good job.”’
‘Because, ugh …’
‘Because it’s easier for you to beat yourself up. And it’s harder to give yourself a compliment. Try it once in a while.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Well at least let me try it. Let me say, “good job” to you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘But Billy …’
‘I know. I know.’
‘I’m serious. You know what you need to do.’
Ren sighed. ‘Knowing what I need to do and what I want to do and what I’m capable of doing? Well, they’re such different things, aren’t they?’
36
Ren arrived, drained, at the Sheriff’s Office. She didn’t want to think any more about how she may have compromised the investigation. She just didn’t want to think about the investigation. She knew Billy Waites would jump out at her from every page. Her fear would tie him into every part of Jean’s life and implicate him in every part of her death. And now the case she was so desperate to solve could become the one case she would never solve because of her own actions.
Her cellphone rang.
‘Hey, Ren. How are you?’
‘Oh, hi, Vincent,’ said Ren. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine. You?”
She gave a sad laugh. ‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ He paused. ‘Any particular reason?’
She sighed. ‘Too many to get into.’
‘How’s the investigation going?’
‘Shit too.’
‘How cheery are we?’
‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘How’s work for you?’
‘Not much better …’
‘We are in high spirits today.’
He laughed. They were quiet for a little while. ‘Look… I miss you.’
‘I miss you too.’
‘I was thinking of maybe coming to Breck at the weekend …’
‘Oh.’
‘Once more … with feeling.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s just … if you’re coming to see me …’
‘That would be part of the plan,’ said Vincent.
‘I just won’t have the time. I’m …’ Too busy fucking things up for myself ‘… working.’
‘Not even one evening off?’
‘I could do lunch maybe.’
He laughed. ‘No alcohol, broad daylight, a set time frame –’
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘Oh, even if it is, I’ll take it.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Ren. ‘Text me Saturday morning.’
‘You bet.’
Just as she hung up, another call came through.
‘Mr Truax, how can I help you?’ said Ren.
‘I’m helping you, Ms Bryce. Your prints are back from the beer bottle.’
‘And?’
‘Nada. No match.’
‘And that’s supposed to help me how?’ said Ren.
‘Well, if helping you means ruling out for now that this man is a hardened criminal with a string of violent crimes under his belt, yes.’
‘Not that, in fact, he is such a criminal mastermind that he has eluded us for decades to commit some of humanity’s vilest atrocities?’
‘While you’ve been fixing your makeup …’
‘That’s crime-fighting in itself.’
Ren walked into Bob’s office. ‘OK, if you could put your fingers in your ears, say “la la la la la” at the same time, while also listening to my question and answering it, I would be very grateful.’
‘La la la la la …’
‘Where did you all search for Mark Wilson last year?’
‘All over town. And out McCullough Gulch Road to the Brockton Filly, around the Filly. We had a hundred volunteers.’
‘And no one even found any of Wilson’s belongings, nothing?’
‘No.’
‘Bob, he went missing around the same spot as Jean must have.’
‘We don’t know that.’
‘It’s highly likely.’
‘Well, all roads lead to the Brockton Filly,’ said Bob. ‘Maybe it’s not the big shadow of Quandary Peak we should be worried about. Maybe it’s the big shadow of Billy Waites. Maybe Waites is the common denominator here. And what better front than being pals with the FBI? A career liar with friends in all the right places.’
Charge the paddles to three hundred.
Bob shrugged. ‘It happens,’ he said. ‘People go missing. They drink too much – the cold, the alcohol, the altitude gets to them, the snow covers them up. It’s all nice and tidy.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ren.
‘Based on what, though? Feelings, nothing more than feelings?’
‘I like my feelings.’
‘What do you think might have happened?’ said Bob.
‘That is the mystery,’ said Ren. ‘I guess, you know, the poor guy shows up, he’s from out of town –’
‘Hey, everyone here’s from out of town,’ said Bob. ‘Nobody is from Breck, as the saying goes. A lot of people want to be, they’ll tell you they are – in an English, Australian, Norwegian accent.’
‘My point is, this guy is not expendable,’ said Ren. ‘And I guess it just feels like someone thought he was.’
‘We don’t know that he’s dead,’ said Bob.
‘Oh, come on.’
‘But please tell me you don’t think it’s connected to Jean Transom.’
Ren made a face that kept it up for grabs.
‘But they are entirely different circumstances. Sounds to me like Mark Wilson was an accident waiting to happen.’
‘Sounds to me like he suffered from a disease called alcoholism and that he’d given up all hope.’
‘God bless you,’ said Bob. ‘And save you.’ He paused. ‘Are you looking for a distraction?’
‘Are you nuts?
’ said Ren. ‘Plus,’ she checked her watch, ‘I have one hour to get to a meeting in Denver. Not going to happen. As if there’s not enough for me to do. But you know how something just gets to you …’
‘Yes. Doesn’t mean I know why this is getting to you.’ He started shifting in his seat, dragging his keyboard toward him. ‘Are you still here?’ he said, glancing back at her.
‘Aw, Bob, don’t be mean to me,’ she said.
37
Robbie Truax stood in the shiny foyer of the Livestock Exchange Building. Four floors up was the Safe Streets office. The elevator that could take him there was open in front of him.
Ren walked in. ‘Hello, there. What are you waiting for?’
‘No way.’ Robbie hopped from left foot to right. ‘Not when it opens unbidden. That thing is a freak. It’s baiting me.’
‘Unbidden – I love it,’ said Ren. ‘What do you think it’s going to do to you?’
‘Squish me in the doors, take me to a floor with no floor? Slam me down to the bottom of the shaft and spit me out in the haunted basement? You haven’t even been there, it’s fucked up –’
‘You need a night-light …’ Ren stepped forward. Robbie didn’t move.
‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘I could hold your hand …’
‘If my hand is the best you can do …’
‘You’re so scared, grabbing your ass would be a biohazard.’
He paused before he got it. ‘Aw, that is gross.’
The elevator doors slid slowly together, paused, shook and finally shut. All the numbers lit up.
‘See?’ said Robbie, stabbing a finger at it. ‘That is not normal. It’s got, like, human energy. Look at my arms – I got chills.’
‘Are they multiplying?’ said Ren.
A voice from behind them sang a few more lines.
They turned around. ‘Good afternoon, Clifton,’ said Ren. ‘Grease lightning.’
‘Is he having his elevator thing?’ said Cliff. ‘Let’s try the stairs, scaredy.’
‘Go ahead, you guys,’ said Ren. ‘I’m good with the elevator.’
‘The stairs will tighten your ass,’ said Robbie. ‘I mean, not that it needs –’
‘Robbie? Shut up,’ said Ren. But she followed them. Upstairs, she headed left into Gary’s office. The others went into the bullpen.
‘OK, listen up,’ said Gary, walking in to them a few minutes later.
‘Where’s Ren?’ said Robbie.
Gary looked at him. ‘Jesus, in the ladies’ room.’
‘Should we wait for her?’
‘Yes, we should,’ said Gary.
Colin made kissing sounds. Robbie threw him a look that would never have an impact on him.
Ren stuck her head in the door. ‘OK, I’m outta here.’
‘What?’ said Robbie.
Gary gestured to her to sit down.
Shit.
‘I’ve been going over these bank jobs,’ said Gary. ‘I’ve made some calls, spoken with some people, and it looks like these all could have organized crime links.’
‘Definitely?’ said Robbie.
‘I said “looks like”.’
‘Based on what?’ said Cliff.
‘Based on the MO,’ said Gary.
‘Links to who?’ said Colin.
‘You’ve all heard of Domenica Val Pando?’ said Gary.
They nodded.
‘I know the name,’ said Robbie.
‘Yeah, you’re what? Twenty-nine?’ said Cliff. ‘You’re too young.’
Gary took a breath. ‘Right, OK. Val Pando was head of one of the most successful organized crime operations in the south. She worked out of a compound in New Mexico. She ran a violent, highly efficient gang that made hundreds of millions in everything – drugs, prostitution, people smuggling, arms dealing –’
‘She lectured at universities,’ said Ren. ‘All across the US – You and Your Fucked-up Mind: Capitalizing on the Crazy.’
Gary stared at her. She flashed him a smile.
He went on. ‘Ten years ago, we put a UCE in there for one year –’
‘I still don’t know how you pulled that off,’ said Colin.
‘With great skill,’ said Gary.
Ren made a sweeping movement with her arm. ‘Why, nothing but the best from the Federal Bureau –’
Gary turned to her, ‘Ren, can you put a sock in it? Can we all focus here?’
Ren looked down.
‘Anyway,’ said Gary, ‘the operation was shut down. But there was a time delay going in. The SWAT teams – LA and Albuquerque – panicked, went in unprepared to pull out the agent, who was in fact caught in the middle of a rival gang’s assault on the compound. At the very end, it was a mess. The buildings were lit on fire by the rival gang. And Val Pando got away.’
‘Wow,’ said Robbie. ‘Where is she now?’
‘Off the radar,’ said Gary. ‘But her perfume’s been left in the air in these latest banks.’
‘Really?’ said Robbie.
‘Not literally,’ said Colin.
Robbie nodded. ‘I thought that would be pretty amazing …’
Gary continued. ‘Val Pando is all smoke and mirrors. One of the world’s biggest fashion designers? His entire operation is a front for a multi-million-dollar narcotics operation, and Val Pando’s his backer. He loves the hiding in plain sight, the glamour, but he could give two shits if he never sold another dress. His heirs will inherit a drug fortune, not a fashion house. Nice thing to find out when you hit eighteen.’
‘My father left me his fishing rod,’ said Cliff.
‘Yeah, you wish you got some dresses,’ said Colin.
‘Which designer is it?’ said Robbie.
‘One of the ones you can’t afford to wear,’ said Colin.
‘Right, OK,’ said Gary. ‘So, based on her MO, based on talking to some of the players involved at that time, we could be looking at Val Pando. She is an extremely intelligent woman, she plans everything, she only hires people who can understand and implement these plans. She is like one of those organizations that employs over-qualified staff. She has people with Masters degrees, PhDs, side by side with the illegals she brings in from South America.’
Ren could feel Robbie digging a pen into her ribs.
Ow. Shit. She shifted in her seat and refocused on Gary.
‘So,’ said Gary, ‘what she does is plan everything, then get the gang to do something sloppy. It took a while for us to work this out before, she did it so well. Local police departments would come to us saying a bunch of mouth-breathers had done the job; we’d go back in and realize it was planned right down to the last.’
‘Oh yeah, here we go,’ said Robbie. ‘It’s always the PDs’ fault.’
‘One hundred per cent,’ said Gary.
‘Woo,’ said Ren. ‘Young Robbie risks a little joke. Brave.’
Robbie blushed.
‘So,’ said Gary, ‘any of the sloppy shit was done for a reason – any reason except one that would lead them to actually getting caught, obviously. Which leads me to our discarded mask. It’s come back from the lab, and the saliva on it? Was traced to a cow.’
‘Livestock Building. Cow. Great,’ said Ren. ‘Did they get a match? Truax, maybe you could look into that …’
By midnight, most of the Safe Streets team had been in Gaffney’s for six hours. Gary and Cliff had left an hour earlier. Robbie was sitting in a booth between two fifty-something blondes, all three of them laughing hysterically. Ren and Colin were on their only common ground – a sea of alcohol.
‘So,’ said Colin. ‘What sorrows are you drowning tonight?’
Ren looked at him. ‘They are innumerable.’ She paused. ‘I’m going to use the bathroom … not that that will solve anything.’ She walked to the door. Her phone beeped as she was about to go down the stairs. She read the text.
Hey. R u around? Billy.
Her heart flipped. She went down to the bathroom and almost turned her phone off and too
k her battery out. When she got upstairs, she texted back.
N. In Denver.
He texted back.
Me 2. Where?
No. Not again. No way.
38
The Hotel Teatro was the hotel that Ren recommended to anyone she knew who wanted to stay in the city. She had stayed there herself a few times, so she recognized the wallpaper when she woke up. And she recognized the arm again. Billy Waites was just not the kind of guy to sleep on the other side of the bed. He woke up and pulled her closer to him. She groaned.
‘Oh no,’ said Billy. ‘Are you not happy this morning?’
‘Billy …’ She remembered spending most of the previous evening telling him why they couldn’t be together.
Billy sang a few lines about regrets.
‘Oh my God,’ she laughed. ‘You look like you can sing.’
‘Yeah, no. I cannot sing. But do you want to see some more of my moves?’
She had no answer for that.
‘Come here, baby,’ he said.
Jesus – baby.
He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer again. He kissed her, then stopped. He looked her straight in the eye. To see would she stop him. She did not.
‘Do you feel better now?’ he said afterwards.
‘Stop.’
‘You were angry drunk last night,’ said Billy.
‘Was I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did I say something terrible to you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But you just weren’t… chilled.’
‘I had a bad day. And a very long drinking day.’
She got out of bed and went into the shower. She stood under the hot water, sorting through Aveda products, smiling in spite of herself … because a bad feeling had sprouted claws inside her and wasn’t about to release its grip. Why had Billy come to Denver? Her stomach turned. Coincidence. But as she reached for the towel, there was the tiniest shake in her hand. She put on the bathrobe and walked back into the bedroom, picking up her clothes as she went. Billy was curled under the covers, looking out the window, his bare back to her. She dressed quickly. He turned around when he heard her grab her purse.
‘But I just ordered breakfast,’ he said. ‘Pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fruit, coffee … eggs, toast, croissants …’
‘You forgot the nothing.’