by Alex Barclay
Nail. Coffin.
Paul Louderback was waiting for Ren at a table upstairs in the furthest corner of Modis on Main Street. He stood up as soon as she walked in. He kissed her on both cheeks, and pulled out her chair for her.
Manners. I love it. ‘Thank you,’ said Ren.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a bottle of Bordeaux,’ said Paul.
Ren raised her glass. ‘Here’s to the first time I’ve ever heard that sentence anywhere other than in a British mini-series.’
Paul made a sad face.
She smiled. ‘Aw, your crest has fallen.’
‘I didn’t want to sound lame right away,’ said Paul. ‘I was aiming for somewhere in the middle of dinner.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Ren, ‘feel free to take wine-related liberties at all times and go on to tell me about them in quaint ways.’
He relaxed back into his chair. ‘So …’ he said.
‘Mark Whaley … can you believe it?’
‘I can,’ said Paul. ‘Especially after those Lowry photos.’
And they were off, talking about work, and movies, and books, and music, and shoes.
Eventually, after a lull, Ren looked across the table at Paul.
‘So,’ said Ren. The question I hate asking, but feel bound to. ‘How’s Marianne?’
Your wife of twenty-four years, the mother of your two daughters.
Paul drained his glass.
‘Oh, some comedy glass-draining,’ said Ren.
‘She left me,’ said Paul at the same time.
Ren waited for him to smile or laugh or say, ‘just kidding’ – anything that would stop him from sensing the visceral reaction that had just rocked through her. ‘Oh my God,’ she managed.
‘She walked out, and took the girls with her,’ said Paul.
‘When?’ said Ren.
‘Three months ago,’ said Paul.
‘Why didn’t you say?’ said Ren.
‘Because I wanted to hear you talk about shoes.’
‘I’m … mortified.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve had the most fun I’ve had in … I can’t tell you when.’
‘But you should have told me at the time,’ said Ren. ‘I would have—’
‘Confused me,’ said Paul.
Uh-oh.
34
Ren’s heart was pounding.
I could do without the complication.
‘But … why did she leave?’ said Ren. ‘What did she say? Do you mind if I ask?’
‘Are you surprised that she left?’ said Paul. ‘Really?’
Yes. Kind of. No. ‘Yes,’ said Ren.
Paul laughed.
‘I can’t believe you laughed at that,’ said Ren. ‘I am surprised. But … I suppose … maybe … I will now stop speaking.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Paul. ‘I’m not in total denial. I know the kind of husband I was. I love Marianne because she is the mother of my children. I don’t know in the end if I loved her as, you know, my lover. And … well, I guess she found someone who did.’
No-one should use the word lover. ‘Oh …’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Paul. ‘She met a man who is my polar opposite. Hurtfully so, if I’m honest.’
‘I’m curious as to what you consider your polar opposite,’ said Ren.
‘Someone attentive,’ said Paul. ‘Someone relaxed, fun, loving, optimistic.’
‘There’s a barman in Gaffney’s who calls that kind of talk “hindshite”,’ said Ren. ‘Hindshite: looking back on things and distorting them, seeing everything in a negative way. I understand how everything looks like crap right now, because you’re going through something terrible. But there is no way Marianne got married and had two beautiful daughters with a man she thought was inattentive, uptight, or boring.’
Paul shrugged.
‘I don’t buy that,’ said Ren. ‘If this new man’s all that—’
‘He is,’ said Paul. ‘I swear to God. I have no problem with the guy. Can you believe that?’
‘He had an affair with your wife,’ said Ren.
‘Nope, that’s the kind of stand-up guy he is,’ said Paul. ‘He fell in love with my wife. And respected her too much to destroy her marriage, and our girls’ lives, and all the rest of it. So he walked away. He told her if she ever changed her mind, she knew where to find him. This was two years ago. He waited for her all that time.’
‘Wow,’ said Ren.
‘And Lord knows, she tried to make it work with us,’ said Paul. ‘I can see that now …’
‘Do you think she still wants to make it work?’ said Ren.
Silence. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, eventually.
‘Hmm,’ said Ren. ‘Maybe leaving you was a cry for help. Terrible expression, but you get the idea.’
‘I’m in no position to help anyone,’ said Paul.
‘Are they living together?’ said Ren.
‘No.’
‘Has he met the girls?’ said Ren.
‘No. She’s not ready for that.’
‘Well, that could be a good sign,’ said Ren. ‘I’m so sorry to hear all this. None of it sounds easy. How are you feeling?’
‘I don’t think I want her to keep trying …’ said Paul. ‘I think … I think it’s been over a long time.’
Ren poured more wine. ‘I’ll be the wine guy,’ she said.
‘Stick to what you know best,’ said Paul.
Ren laughed.
‘You are a master side-stepper …’ said Paul.
‘What am I side-stepping?’ said Ren. Apart from the I-don’t-think-I-want-her-to-keep-trying-so-I’m-finally-available thing that we both know I’m side-stepping.
‘Not a thing,’ said Paul.
Good.
Paul smiled. ‘Remember that night at the sexual assault convention …’
‘OK, if anyone overheard just that part of the conversation …’
Paul laughed, then stopped. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to me,’ he said. ‘It’s like my own laughter is an alien sound.’
‘Your laughter is an alien sound,’ said Ren.
‘Why didn’t you reply to my emails after the last time in Breck?’ said Paul. He had locked eyes with her.
Please refrain from staring at the animals. ‘I … I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve … been busy.’
Paul nodded. ‘So I believe, you cartel queen.’
‘Domenica Val Pando was the cartel queen, I was just the—’
‘Agent of her downfall.’
‘I like it,’ said Ren.
He glanced at the second bottle of wine Ren had ordered. ‘I suspect you’ll be the agent of my downfall too.’
At one a.m., Paul Louderback and Ren Bryce stood in the small foyer of the restaurant, sandwiched between two glass doors, looking out at the snow. He helped her into her coat. She buttoned the huge collar under her chin.
‘Look,’ said Ren, pressing a finger against the glass door. ‘Here’s our cab.’
She turned around to him. ‘Thank you so much for dinner.’
‘Thank you,’ said Paul. He kissed her cheek. They hugged.
Ren went to pull away, but Paul’s hand was still pressed against her lower back. She leaned away from him, and looked up.
‘It was just what I needed,’ said Paul.
Stop looking into my eyes. ‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘My invaluable insight into relationships.’
‘You’re not as bad as you think,’ said Paul. ‘Although, you were wrong about one thing.’
‘Highly unlikely,’ said Ren. ‘What?’
‘Well … not everything looks crap right now.’
No. No. No. In a strange cross-purposes move, he released his hold, and started kissing her. It was the most extraordinarily intimate kiss Ren had ever experienced. She could not have pulled away quick enough. She reached behind her for the door, and staggered back against it.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s go. Thanks.’
‘Sure,’ said Paul. He held the door open for her. She banged her elbow off of it on the way out.
Ren slumped into the back of the cab. Paul sat in front with the driver.
I’ll laugh or joke with yo’ man, but I don’t want him. He’s all yours. I think I make that clear. I’ve never taken anyone’s man. She let out a breath.
Her cell phone vibrated. Two messages.
The first was from Paul: R u OK?
She looked up. He was smiling at her in the rear-view mirror.
The second was from Ben: R u alive?
No/Barely.
She sent Yes to Paul. And nothing to Ben.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
And then she texted Paul Louderback one more time.
Paul Louderback sat on the edge of his bed. Ren stood in front of him.
‘Take off your clothes,’ he said. A slow, polite, Southern command.
Ren started with her black top, pulling it slowly over her head.
‘I was watching that pink strap all through dinner,’ he said.
And I was watching you watching it. ‘Really?’ said Ren.
‘Keep going,’ said Paul. His voice was firm.
Ren turned her back to him, and pulled the zip of her tight black skirt down, so he could see the cutaway of her pink low-ride lace shorts with the keyhole and the satin ribbon trim. She moved her hips twice until the skirt fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, and turned to face him.
‘Keep the shoes on,’ he said.
When Ren was naked, but for black patent high heels, Paul stood up in front of her, and started to pull off his tie.
Ren smiled. ‘Imagine if I said to you “keep the shoes on”.’
Paul laughed. ‘I’ve thought about this moment for a very long time, Ren. There’s pretty much nothing you could say that could possibly ruin it.’
Not even ‘what the fuck am I doing here?’ or ‘I have to go’ or ‘this will destroy our friendship’, or ‘I hate plaid boxers’?
Paul held his hands against Ren’s lower back, moved them lower, and pulled her gently toward him. He kissed her again, like before, but more.
Ren kissed him back.
I am going nowhere.
She kissed him harder.
I need to follow through.
35
Ren sat in her Jeep outside the Sheriff’s Office. A giant coffee was steaming up the windows. She held her cell phone pressed to her ear.
‘I swear to God, Janine, my fingerprints on the door of that restaurant must have looked like a horror movie poster,’ said Ren. ‘Someone clawing out of something for their dear life.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ said Janine.
‘I have no idea,’ said Ren. ‘I feel like I’m a fourteen-year-old girl, and Taylor Lautner has just shown up at my door, saying “Hey! Here I am! I’m free.”’
‘But you’ve been crazy about this guy for years,’ said Janine. ‘He’s available. What’s the problem?’
‘Or did I just think I was crazy about him?’ said Ren. ‘Because I couldn’t have him – he was a safe person to love.’
‘Unlike all those unsafe people …’
‘Yeah, but love really is shit,’ said Ren. ‘You’ve got to admit. So, someone who wasn’t going to love me back … that was quite appealing.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said Janine.
‘It is, though. I’m sick of it.’
‘Dare I ask – what about Ben?’ said Janine.
‘I love Ben!’ said Ren. ‘They’re both so different …’
‘And …’ said Janine.
‘There’s a lot to be said for an untroubled man.’
‘That would be Ben,’ said Janine.
‘Yes – Ben just fails to see a problem with anything. You could tell him your deepest darkest fear, and he would listen, say sweet things, but not psychoanalyze you, like an older man would. It’s very refreshing.’
‘OK,’ said Janine. ‘My opinion? Don’t kid yourself on the following: psychoanalyzing is not a younger man/older man thing. It’s on a man-by-man basis. And Ben is not that young. I think that because he looks so young—’
‘He does,’ said Ren. ‘Sometimes I feel like those high-school teachers who get arrested for sleeping with their students . . .’
Janine laughed. ‘As I was saying, you associate him with youth, light-heartedness, and a time when you didn’t have a worry in the world. That really appeals to you. You see him as someone who has not really been damaged by the world like you have. Which is a really attractive trait in anyone. Paul Louderback, however, is a grown-up. Which scares the crap out of you. You run from the grown-ups. You run from the ones who try to get inside your head. And—’ said Janine, Ren could see her raising her finger, ‘don’t say it. Don’t. Do not make some joke about Ben only wanting to get inside your pants—’
Ren paused. ‘I can hear you rolling your eyes.’
‘Must get eyeballs tightened in socket,’ said Janine. ‘Ren, let’s try this – who do you want to be with – Ben or Paul?’
‘Baul.’
‘OK, let’s try maturity first,’ said Janine. ‘Then, answer the question: old, married dude. Or young, hot dude.’
‘Paul’s hot too. And he’s not … really … married.’
‘OK,’ said Janine, ‘old, hot, not-really-married dude. Young, hot, single dude. You’re the only one who can make that decision.’
‘Sentence least likely to inspire …’ said Ren.
‘That’s your problem,’ said Janine.
‘That and your unhelpfulness,’ said Ren.
‘Neither is your answer, then. You want to be with neither man.’
‘Because that’s an option,’ said Ren.
‘It is an option,’ said Janine.
‘I don’t like people who suggest being alone as an option.’
‘And therein lies the problem,’ said Janine.
‘Leave me alone,’ said Ren.
‘That’s a start.’
Janine had kindly not asked what happened after the horror-movie scene in the restaurant foyer.
God bless you, Janine, for not making me have to say I’m a whore out loud. For not having to say I’ve been up all night again. And for not knowing I’m bipolar, so I don’t have to deal with another concerned tone.
Ren walked into the Sheriff’s Office reception area. Gary Dettling was standing by the front desk. When he turned toward her, she could see, behind him, the familiar figure of Ben Rader.
Oh. Dear. God.
Stop appearing from behind my boss.
‘Hello,’ said Ren.
‘Ren, you remember Ben Rader,’ said Gary.
In all kinds of ways. ‘Yes, nice to see you again.’ Your timing will keep me in guilt-ridden thoughts for months.
‘Hi, Ren,’ said Ben. Then his big smile.
Mental picture: double-date: me, Ben, Gary and his wife. And Jesus Christ.
‘I thought you’d gone back to Denver, Gary,’ said Ren.
‘Change of plan,’ said Gary. ‘Shelby Royce’s funeral was yesterday – it’s still going to be quite raw for the kids. They’ll be out tonight – it’s Saturday night – partying, drinking …’
‘And I’ll swoop in and prey on their vulnerability,’ said Ben.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Ren. Gary’s unorthodox plan. There’s a reason he shouldn’t do unorthodox.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Ben, standing there with his black hair gelled messy, his flawless skin, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
Effortlessly cool. Even for an eighteen-year-old …
‘But, hey,’ said Ren, ‘what if no-one invites you to party?’
Ben gave her a big smile. ‘I’m sure someone will …’
You bet your cute ass.
‘OK,’ said Gary. ‘Come in to the office, Ben, take a look at whatever you need.’
Ben raised his eyebrow at Ren. ‘Sure,’ he said.
They went in to the office, and
Gary started to talk Ben through the case.
Ren watched Ben nodding intently. She realized he almost pouted when he was concentrating. And still managed to look good.
Stop risking eye contact with me.
She glanced around the room.
Everyone knows I am sleeping with Ben Rader. Everyone.
36
Ren grabbed a coffee and pulled out a magazine she had stolen from reception. It was promoting Summit County, and each town had its own section. It was made up mostly of advertorials, with columns or pages of relevant ads beside them. She saw one ad for The Merlin, then a general article for luxury holiday home lets, and beside that an ad for a company called York Property Management. One of the employees was a fit-looking cheery man with a strong, chiseled face, who by virtue of his age, and unusual surname, appeared to have spawned a most unlikely child.
‘Bob,’ said Ren. ‘Could I pick your tiny mind?’
Bob came over. ‘Sure. Go ahead.’
‘I was flicking through these ads masquerading as a magazine, and came across a gentleman by the name of Gabriel Labati.’ She pointed to the picture. ‘Is the ungainly Jared Labati the offspring of this rugged specimen?’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Bob.
‘So, Gabriel Labati works for York Property Management. Do they manage any of the homes on Wildcard Drive?’
‘Yes. I got Mike’s report here. Two.’
‘Has anyone taken a look around them?’ said Ren. ‘We still don’t know where the girls were kept.’
‘Mike and a few of the other detectives had a look around the outside and there were no signs of a break-in anywhere,’ said Bob. ‘We don’t have probable cause to go inside. The owners won’t give us permission because they’re deferring to York and obviously York is maintaining that no-one could have gotten into the houses because they had the keys, and they’re such an outstanding management company that there was no way anyone could have gotten their hands on them.’
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Do you know is York where Jared Labati did the work experience Tom Olson mentioned?’
‘I presume so,’ said Bob. ‘Gabriel Labati only has one job.’
‘So Jared would have had access to keys for a lot of houses …’
‘What are you saying?’ said Bob.