Blood Loss

by Alex Barclay

  He half-smiled.

  Ren looked back at the screen. ‘Looks like you were whuppin’ him.’

  ‘I always whup him,’ said TJ.

  ‘What time was he here?’ said Ren.

  TJ’s shoulders slumped. ‘About eleven thirty. Mom doesn’t know. She was at the gym. Don’t tell her he was here. She’d kill me.’

  ‘Was he badly injured?’ said Ren.

  ‘He had patched himself up,’ said TJ, ‘but he didn’t look too good. I asked him was he OK, and what happened, but he just told me not to worry.’

  ‘Did he mention that it was anything to do with a case he was working on?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said TJ, ‘he never tells us anything about his cases.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘I can’t stress how important it is for you to tell me the truth, TJ. I’m going to have to tell your mom about this, you know that.’

  TJ nodded.

  Ren glanced to another desk, where a small blue laptop was half-closed.

  She popped it open. She looked to her right. It was attached to a printer. She called up the last document it had printed. An airline ticket. For Newark, New Jersey. Leaving that night.

  ‘He never said anything to me,’ said TJ.

  ‘If your father gets in touch with you again, can you please ask him to call me?’ She handed him her card.

  ‘You’re from Safe Streets?’ said TJ, reading the card. His face changed. ‘He hates you guys. There’s no way he’s ever going to call you.’

  ‘Please,’ said Ren. ‘This is not about Safe Streets, it’s about your dad. I wasn’t with Safe Streets when your dad was. He’ll know that.’

  ‘Is your boss that Gary guy?’ said TJ.

  Ren nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dad hates his guts,’ said TJ. ‘I know that much.’

  Ren went back down to Melissa Grace. TJ followed her.

  ‘Safety in numbers,’ he said.

  Ren smiled.

  ‘Mrs Grace, TJ thought he was doing the right thing by not saying anything, but he just told me that his father came by here when you were at the gym today, and spent some time with TJ. Physically, TJ thinks he patched himself up OK, but there are no guarantees. Here’s my card, I’ve given one to TJ too. Please call me if you know anything more.’

  ‘You’ll understand if I’m wary about anything to do with Safe Streets,’ said Melissa.

  ‘I don’t know the facts about your ex-husband’s time there,’ said Ren. ‘It was before I started. What I do know is that he may be in danger right now.’

  ‘Could this not have been a random assault?’ said Melissa.

  ‘I don’t believe that it was,’ said Ren. ‘And that’s all I can say right now.’

  Ren walked down the path and got into the Jeep. She saw TJ coming out the front door and walking toward her.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  Ren rolled down the window. ‘Hey, there.’

  ‘Is that your dog?’ He put his face up to the back window.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘That’s Misty.’

  ‘I saw her head popping up,’ he said. ‘Can I pet her?’

  ‘Sure you can. Go ahead.’ Ren lowered the back window.

  TJ reached into the back seat. Misty pushed her face toward him and he petted her gently.

  ‘She’s a beautiful dog,’ said TJ.

  ‘She is,’ said Ren.

  ‘Mom won’t allow dogs in the house,’ said TJ.

  ‘Well, I had to wait until I moved out of home to get Misty,’ said Ren.

  He smiled. ‘Then I don’t feel so bad.’

  Ren started the engine. ‘Well, OK, I better go—’

  ‘Um, I heard mom and dad talking,’ said TJ. ‘It was, like, years ago. And … all I know is that they don’t really know why dad was fired. I mean, they know why, but they just don’t know how.’

  ‘How?’ said Ren.

  TJ shrugged. ‘I think that Gary guy found something out, but mom and dad didn’t know how he could have done that.’

  ‘OK …’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, OK,’ said TJ, ‘I gotta go.’ He nodded. ‘Thank you.’ His hand briefly rested on Ren’s arm, as he pulled it past her.

  Ren drove away from the house. Taber Grace Jr. was a sweet kid. She thought of him trotting down the path after her, and his hand on her arm, not in a weird way, just a small, kind gesture.

  Ren glanced back at Misty.

  ‘Misty, he seems like a good kid to me … what do you think?’

  And he has brought me the closest I have come to finding out what the hell happened with Taber Grace.

  49

  Ren got back to Safe Streets and went straight to Gary’s office. He told her to take a seat.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘I know you told me—’

  Gary stared her into silence. ‘That’s a familiar opener, Ren. And finishes every goddamn time with you telling me you’ve done something I have specifically asked you not to do.’

  ‘This is—’

  ‘Different!’ said Gary. ‘I know. I am not screwing around here, Ren, but I am not going to be able to tolerate this for much longer. I like you on a personal level, you know that, but professionally, it is getting to the point that when I see you walk in my door—’

  ‘But I haven’t even—’

  Gary shook his head. ‘I can separate personal feelings and professionalism, Ren, so I’m telling you that this has got to stop. Or I will have to transfer you. I’ll have no choice. Some day it’s going to blow up in my face.’

  Ren’s heart was pounding. ‘I … I’m sorry, Gary. I always only try to do the best for the case. And I haven’t screwed up if you think about it …’ She held her breath.

  ‘Officially? No. But that’s because I have covered your ass. How many times have I covered your ass?’

  ‘Many times.’

  ‘Now, what were you coming in to tell me?’ said Gary. ‘Finish the sentence “I know you told me” …’

  ‘I know you told me you didn’t want coffee, but I was wondering—’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Ren. How do you have the fucking balls?’

  Ren smiled. ‘OK. It’s about Taber Grace, but please give me a chance. Here’s what we’ve found out: someone else was in the parking garage around the time the Whaleys were checking in. Someone was watching the Merritts’ house i.e. Taber Grace. I went to see his ex-wife and son, because Taber Grace obviously knows something we don’t, he’s been assaulted because of it, and he’s gone underground. So, I’m there, and I decide to go up to the kid’s room to speak with him and I realize that Taber Grace has been there. I missed him by an hour. But I went to his son’s computer, and the last thing he had printed out was a ticket to Newark. New Jersey. Which is where Tina Bowers, Shep Collier’s hooker, lives – Maplewood, New Jersey.’

  ‘OK …’ said Gary.

  ‘So, what we have now is an undeniable link between a private investigator, a congressman, a hooker, and the Merritts/Whaleys. There’s also mystery semen …’

  ‘Mystery semen …’ said Gary.

  Ren nodded.

  Gary nodded. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Go to Maplewood in the morning. Taber Grace is a smart man. His son has probably got a message to him that I was at the house and saw the airline tickets. I doubt he’ll catch that flight.’

  ‘He probably booked another one,’ said Gary. ‘He’s probably there right now.’

  ‘I’d like to go talk to Tina Bowers,’ said Ren.

  ‘OK,’ said Gary. ‘Go ahead. But don’t take that as a sign that it’s going to be worth going against my orders again.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to Mark Whaley’s boss too. It’s clear that whatever went on between Mark Whaley and Shelby Royce, there is a business-related issue here.’

  ‘Do your homework, Ren,’ said Gary. ‘Don’t go in there without knowing as much as you possibly can about him. This is politics, it’s big business, and it’s two cases that have already had huge me
dia attention in the last month.’

  Hmm. ‘In that case, I’ll wait until I speak with Tina Bowers, before I talk to Nolan Carr,’ said Ren.

  Gary nodded. ‘OK.’

  ‘And thank you for your understanding,’ said Ren.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Gary. ‘I don’t understand you at all.’

  That evening, Ren sat with Janine Hooks in Woody’s in Golden, not far from Janine’s office. Ren had made it three-quarters of the way through a ham and arugula pizza. She paused, watching the movement of tiny bones in Janine’s hand as she picked a carrot stick from a glass of crudités.

  She wondered how Janine could get through the day, how she could walk, and run, and exercise, and think, without food in her belly.

  You are so pretty, and endearing, and kind. Yet you torture yourself.

  Ren watched as Janine put the carrot stick on her plate. It had one bite taken out of it.

  Will you ever talk to me about it?

  Ren glanced at her phone, making sure that it was not dialing a number by accident, thereby allowing someone to listen in to their conversation.

  And will I ever talk to you about being nuts?

  Ren and Janine looked at each other at exactly the same time.

  Do either of us really need to?

  ‘So,’ said Janine, ‘Paul Louderback, a man who promised you nothing, has, indeed, delivered on that promise?’

  ‘So it seems,’ said Ren.

  ‘How surprising and disappointing that must be,’ said Janine.

  Ren smiled. ‘But I do feel like an idiot.’

  ‘Did you think he was not allowed to have other friends?’ said Janine. ‘Did you let him know?’

  ‘Friends, yes,’ said Ren. ‘“Little protégées?” Noo. There’s only one little protégée. I’m the little protégée.’ Me me me me me.

  ‘That’s sad,’ said Janine.

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Ren. ‘I just want to hear someone say it out loud.’

  ‘So … Paul Louderback has fallen behind in the polls this week,’ said Janine.

  ‘That sounds terrible,’ said Ren.

  ‘I’m kidding.’

  ‘Would it also sound terrible if I said that I think you’re using the protégée thing to back off? I seem to remember he made his intentions very clear to you when you were leaving Breck …’

  Hmm.

  ‘Colin Grabien likes to stir things up, he obviously guessed you had some fondness for Mr Louderback, and he got his dig in. I think you really know that Paul is interested in you. But, hey, you’ve got an excuse to not get involved.’

  ‘You’re evil,’ said Ren.

  ‘Ben is adorable,’ said Janine. ‘He is smiley and sweet and yes, very cute. He has a strange innocence about him.’

  ‘Don’t say innocence,’ said Ren. ‘I’m the innocence quencher.’

  ‘You could be a rapper, that could be your name,’ said Janine. She paused. ‘Can I stand up for the little guy? I want to say – do not underestimate Ben Rader. You’ll end up hurting him.’

  ‘He doesn’t care that much,’ said Ren.

  ‘Be careful,’ said Janine. ‘For someone who loves men, you are very quick to assume they’re cold and heartless … when it suits you.’

  ‘I’m not saying he’s cold and heartless,’ said Ren. ‘Just that, he’s not that into me.’

  ‘Hasn’t he broached the whole girlfriend thing? Why would he bother? It’s not like he lives here full time. Have you been looking for reasons to go off him too?’

  ‘You’re a white witch.’

  ‘How can you live with that brain of yours?’ said Janine. ‘I would go crazy.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ said Ren. ‘You have no idea.’

  That night, Ren sat in front of her laptop and searched for Tina Bowers to make sure that Hugh Hefner hadn’t flown her to his mansion for a party. She had posted a new photo on Facebook from that afternoon – with her black Labrador and two clear Maplewood, New Jersey markers in the background.

  The girl trying to hide from the media …

  Ren was about to shut her laptop. But words came back to her – words from Matt, words from Janine; cycle, pattern, threshold, crazy. She went to Apple movie trailers, and watched five. She sat back and stared at the screen. And Matt’s words came back again; “jumping off drunk and nekkid for fun”.

  Ren leaned forward and opened Google. She typed in the name Dr Leonard Lone.

  Show me what you’re made of. Show me why you should be the winner of this year’s Shrink Idol. Who have you worked with? Who are your influences?

  At first, Ren found very little information except his business address and contact details. There were no images, no videos, no academic papers.

  Ren worked some more magic. And there it was – everything she could want to know. Her hands froze on the keys.

  Dr Leonard Lone. Trust-fund billionaire. Philanthropist. Resident in multi-million-dollar mansion.

  Holy psychotropics! My shrink is Batman.

  50

  Maplewood, New Jersey was a beautiful, quiet, old-school town, a great place to bring up a family. There was no sign in the town center that read Birthplace of Teen Hooker Tina Bowers.

  Ren sat in her car down the street and waited until she saw Tina, running down the path of her aunt’s house with a black Labrador on a leash. Tina was dressed in a white down parka and skinny blue jeans tucked into black suede knee-high boots. The fur-trimmed hood of her parka was down, its pointed edges reaching out past her narrow shoulders. Her white-blonde hair was loose and piled inside it.

  Ren got out of the car and walked toward her.

  ‘Tina Bowers,’ said Ren. She was better-looking up close than Ren had expected. Her skin was flawless, several shades paler than in her promotional shots. Without makeup, her eyes looked smaller, her blonde lashes almost translucent. The effect was angelic.

  ‘Ohmygod, how did you find me?’ said Tina. ‘I’m not doing any more interviews.’ She tried to go back into the house. Then she saw Ren’s badge.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce, I’m working on the murder of a young girl, not much younger than you …’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Bowers. ‘Really? That’s terrible.’

  Ren nodded. ‘Can we go grab a coffee somewhere?’

  ‘But … what have I got to do with a … murder?’ said Bowers.

  ‘Let’s go get coffee,’ said Ren. ‘Let’s start with that. Where’s good?’

  ‘Um … right down the street,’ said Bowers

  The coffee shop smelled of disinfectant. A skinny, wrinkled waitress with a spray bottle was the person responsible. Ren sat opposite Tina Bowers in a booth at the back.

  ‘Tell me about Shep Collier,’ said Ren. ‘The truth …’

  ‘I … told the truth,’ said Bowers. ‘Do you seriously think—’

  ‘Tina, tell me the truth,’ said Ren. ‘This is a murder investigation. And it’s a crime to lie to a federal agent. That would be me.’

  ‘Who was murdered?’ said Bowers. ‘You said a girl.’

  ‘A sixteen-year-old girl,’ said Ren. ‘So, I need you to tell me about what happened with Shep Collier.’

  ‘You think he murdered someone?’ said Bowers.

  ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I do not. Talk to me. What happened?’

  ‘How do you know anything happened?’ said Tina.

  Ren’s expression stopped Tina asking another question. Instead, she looked around her, behind her, over Ren’s shoulder.

  ‘Tina, what happened the night you were at the hotel with Shep Collier?’ said Ren.

  ‘I got a call from the agency to go to The Crawford Hotel to room whatever,’ said Bowers. ‘So, I did. Shep Collier opened the door. I had been told by my boss that the role play would start as soon as he did, so I played along – tried to force my way in, told him I knew what he wanted.’ She shrugged. ‘He was like, what the hell is going on here, but I kept pushing it.
For a while. It was obvious real soon that this was all bullshit. It was real awkward. I kind of apologized, I think … I can’t really remember … but I left.’

  ‘You did not have sex with Shep Collier,’ said Ren.

  ‘No. I was mortified. I left the hotel, and I called the agency. They said that he probably got cold feet, but that they had been paid, I would be paid, so it was all cool, I could go home if I wanted.’ She took a breath. ‘So, I did. And when I get home, there’s a man waiting at the steps to my building, and he stops me, and says “Tina Bowers, here’s the thing … ” And he tells me that he will give me $20,000 to tell that story I told about Shep Collier, and the guy says he can email me photos of me at the room as backup … so that the story would be realistic. So, I did.’

  ‘Did he say why he wanted that story told?’ said Ren.

  ‘No.’ She shrugged.

  ‘But you agreed to do this …’

  ‘For the money,’ said Tina.

  Hello? ‘Did you know who Shep Collier was?’ said Ren.

  ‘Not really,’ said Tina. ‘I mean, I realized when the story went huge.’

  ‘Who did this man say you were to tell that story to?’ said Ren.

  ‘I had to email blownpolitics.com. It was supposed to be anonymous. But, I think they tricked me. Next thing, my name was everywhere … my actual name. It was the worst day of my life.’ She looked at Ren. ‘You’re probably thinking getting $20,000 couldn’t be the worst day of anyone’s life …’

  ‘That’s not at all what I’m thinking,’ said Ren. ‘You were used very badly in all this.’

  ‘Well, that’s m’job,’ said Tina. She tilted her head.

  ‘And I don’t think that either,’ said Ren.

  ‘It’s pretty shitty,’ said Bowers. ‘And all those wives bitching about me on line. And meanwhile, their husbands are, like, Googling me like crazy. I’m right up there.’ She took out her phone. ‘But check this out.’ She opened up her photo folder, and turned the screen to Ren. She started scrolling through photos she had taken of herself with different wigs, and sunglasses.

  ‘I guess I could go anonymous for a while. I’ll put them up on Facebook, see which look my fans like the best.’