Harm's Reach

by Alex Barclay

  ‘Were you aware that Jonathan Black died shortly after that?’ said Ren.

  ‘I was not,’ said Bergin. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Officially, an accidental overdose.’

  Bergin tilted his head. ‘And do you have an unofficial theory?’

  No, but I have a stare … a long meaningful one. ‘No,’ said Ren. She shook his hand. ‘Thank you again.’

  Janine and Ren walked to Ren’s Jeep.

  ‘Did you see what Kenneth Faule wrote on that sticker?’ said Janine. ‘I saw you writing.’

  ‘I thought I was being subtle,’ said Ren.

  ‘To them, you were. You didn’t write it until halfway through the conversation, and you wrote it up the side of the page.’

  ‘How did you know that’s what it was?’ said Ren.

  ‘Because it was a number that neither of them had just said. I knew that much.’

  ‘It was 96226.’

  ‘Are the kids inmates now?’ said Janine. ‘They just have numbers?’

  ‘Well that kind of conflicts with the Faules’ trusting ethos, doesn’t it?’ said Ren. ‘Though it does tie in with the whole confidentiality thing.’

  That night, Ren lay on Annie’s sofa, curled into Ben Rader’s arms, her back pushed up against his chest. The room was dark, except for the glow of dying candles on the stone hearth.

  I don’t want you to go.

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘Your hair smells like cloves.’

  ‘Interestingly … so does my shampoo.’

  He took her arm and held it up to his nose. ‘Your arms smell like ginger.’

  ‘I’m aiming to be fit for human consumption at all times.’

  ‘You’ve hit your target.’

  She laughed. She turned around to him. They kissed.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to go,’ he said.

  Me too. ‘At least we have tonight.’

  He kissed her again. ‘So, what are we going to do?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Ren.

  ‘I mean, you and me, traveling between D.C. and here …’

  Nothing? ‘Traveling doesn’t bother me,’ said Ren. ‘Does it bother you?’

  ‘No, but … it’s getting harder to leave you.’

  Oh, God. ‘Aw …’

  ‘It’s more than “aw”,’ said Ben. ‘I miss you when we’re not together.’

  I don’t deserve you missing me like that.

  ‘I miss you too,’ said Ren.

  ‘I hate going to bed without you.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I don’t deserve any of this. Because I am lying to this man. I am lying and he is wonderful.

  ‘Ben, I’m just going to come out and say this,’ said Ren. ‘I’m … I’ve got … well, it’s like …’

  I can’t do it. I cannot bear saying this out loud. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Make it go away.

  ‘You’ve got what?’ said Ben. She could feel him feel the tears on her cheeks. He sat up. ‘What is it?’ He pulled her up to sit beside him. He had taken her hands in his before she even realized it and was drawing her into his arms.

  ‘Ren, what is it, baby?’ He held her head to his chest. He stroked her hair.

  This man is a saint.

  ‘Don’t cry, honey. Please, what is it? Are you OK?’

  No. I never was, and I never will be. Ben took his seat for The Sane Show. He doesn’t need to see the coming attractions. It wasn’t funny the first time. I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. And this is not funny. This is real life. This man is a good man and I am a piece of shit. I can’t do this to him. I can’t not.

  She looked up at him. ‘I’m … bipolar.’

  Dun. Dun. DUN.

  32

  Ren could feel Ben gripping her tighter.

  Ugh.

  As she blinked through her tears, she could see the corner of the Bryce family photo that Annie Lowell had so sweetly hung on the living room wall; Ren’s mom, her dad, her brothers – Jay, Beau and Matt. And Ren, laughing, looking off to one side.

  Let’s rewind. I will turn out sane. Beau won’t kill himself. Jay will be … not so ‘Jay’. And Matt will carry on as he was always meant to be.

  Ren realized Ben was talking. ‘Baby, it’s OK,’ he was saying, as if she had just told him dinner was running late. ‘It’s OK,’ he was saying again. ‘Don’t cry.’

  This man is nuts.

  Ren pulled away from him and stared at him. He was smiling.

  That smile has no place in this conversation.

  ‘But … it’s really not OK,’ said Ren.

  ‘Honestly,’ said Ben. ‘I never would have guessed.’

  No trace of sarcasm.

  ‘You are the first person who has ever said that to me,’ said Ren. ‘Usually, I get “I kind of figured there was something there …”’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Nope.’

  ‘I feel bad,’ said Ren, ‘because I told Matt I didn’t want to tell you because you had taken your seat for The Sane Show.’

  ‘What – and you didn’t want to ruin my entertainment?’ said Ben.

  ‘Worse,’ said Ren. ‘I was glad you weren’t aware of the coming attractions.’

  Ben laughed. ‘That’s funny, Ren. Don’t feel bad. Are you feeling guilty about that?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ren. ‘But you shouldn’t be cool with this. I mean, I’ve been on mood stabilizers pretty much the entire time we’ve been together. Gary has enforced this. I have no choice—’

  ‘So, if you had a choice, you wouldn’t be on meds?’ said Ben.

  Lie! Lie! For the love of God, lie. ‘If I had a choice, no I wouldn’t be on meds,’ said Ren. ‘I’d be swinging from chandeliers nightly.’

  ‘Well, I’d never stop you doing that,’ said Ben.

  What if I was swinging naked on a wrecking ball?

  ‘Ben, maybe you don’t know enough about the whole bipolar thing,’ said Ren. ‘Maybe you need to find out more …’

  ‘Good idea!’ said Ben. ‘And I can buy a crystal ball, a deck of tarot cards, have my palm read, so that all the details of our future will be revealed, so that I can really really walk away with the full facts of how this nightmare of a life with you would have gone if I hadn’t had such a lucky escape! Phew!’

  Ren smiled. ‘But I’m not sure you’re really understanding—’

  ‘You go crazy sometimes, you’re miserable other times,’ said Ben. ‘Big deal. Aren’t we all like that?’

  Nooo. ‘No,’ said Ren. Really. No. Not like this.

  ‘Ren, you be who you have to be, I’ll be me, and we’ll work out the rest when it shows up.’

  The paranoia, the suspicion, the extra helpings of crazy …

  ‘I’m good with this,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t worry. This isn’t a terminal illness diagnosis, this is manageable.’

  Uh-oh.

  ‘It is a nightmare of a life for the other person,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve been there.’

  ‘Not with me you haven’t,’ said Ben. ‘Not with me.’

  Ren woke the next morning and looked at Ben, sleeping like he hadn’t a worry in the world, as always.

  I would love your gentle, untroubled-waters mind.

  He rolled away from her.

  If you have any sense, keep rolling.

  She put her arms around him and kissed his back.

  ‘That’s nice,’ he muttered.

  ‘I better get to work …’

  He turned around to her and opened his eyes. ‘Come here,’ he said, holding out his arms. Ren lay back down, warm and safe, until the alarm blasted again.

  ‘I really better go,’ said Ren, sitting up. ‘See you next week?’

  ‘Don’t put a question mark at the end of that sentence,’ said Ben. He pulled her back down and kissed her.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘I won’t.’ She hugged him. ‘Thanks … for being so wonderful.’

  ‘No – you’re wonderful,’ he said. ‘Just the way you are.’
>
  I beg to differ.

  The office was quiet when Ren arrived in. It was unchanged. The roof had not fallen in. There was paperwork to be done, phone calls to be made. Life would continue whether she had said something out loud the night before or not.

  She bumped into Gary in the hallway. She was about to tell him about the visit to the ranch.

  ‘Ren – go through everything on the robberies, OK? There might be something we missed.’ He walked on.

  Shit.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘OK.’ She was calling out to his fast-departing back.

  She went in to Cliff.

  ‘Did you get security footage from the Littleton robbery?’

  ‘We did,’ he said.

  ‘Can you email it to me?’ she said.

  ‘Sure. And, Ren – I spoke with the ME in Butte about the journalist OD. He says there was nothing there that gave him cause for concern. Heroin overdose in a shitty motel.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ren. ‘Don’t you think it’s totally weird he was about to run a damaging story about the Princes and he dies right beforehand? And he wasn’t a known user?’

  ‘It could just be a coincidence,’ said Cliff.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ren.

  ‘Have you sunk your teeth into Robert Prince?’ said Cliff.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Ren, ‘but I haven’t started shaking my head …’

  ‘Yet,’ said Cliff.

  Ren sat back and watched the footage of the robbery. She studied the similar style, the customers dropping to the ground as the first robber jumped up on the counter and fired, the second guy going to the cashier, handing the note. Their faces were still completely concealed. There was something bothering her. She couldn’t put her finger on it. She knew she was good with video. She could spot things.

  She watched again.

  She called up the Conifer video and watched that. There were six customers in the branch. One of them was wearing a large sun hat and sunglasses.

  A disguise! Albeit a comedy disguise. A plant? Bring-Your-Mother-to-Work Day, concealed weapon in her muumuu?

  Ren hit Pause. The woman was only barely in frame. But there was something about her …

  Ren looked at the map; five strikes: Welton Street, Glendale, Englewood, Conifer, Littleton. Conifer was an anomaly; they were still moving east/west as Gary had said, but Conifer was further into the mountains and Littleton was back to the flatlands.

  Ren watched all the videos again. Then she looked at the still images taken. Something was strange. She looked at the Glendale photos. There was something off.

  They’re the wrong photos. They’re not of the most recent robbery.

  She searched in her computer. The photos she was looking at were of a 2010 robbery in Glendale. Someone had named the new set of photos too similarly. Problem solved.

  She went back to her file on the Conifer robbery. She watched the video again. She did her first read-through of the witness statements. And she realized why that little old lady was familiar: it was Delores Ward. Cabin Lady.

  Hmm … wasn’t the abbey’s money all controlled centrally by Eleanor Jensen?

  33

  Ren called Eleanor Jensen.

  ‘Eleanor, you mentioned that you’re in charge of the finances at the abbey, is that correct?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘And that your policy is, effectively, common ownership?’ said Ren.

  ‘In the most part, yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘For a lot of the women who come here, money, for different reasons, has become a problem for them: whether they needed it for drugs, stole it and got arrested; had a husband who controlled their finances; became corrupt in the pursuit of money … whatever the reason, to come here and have the worry of money taken away from them can be freeing. They have everything they need to eat and drink, to be comfortable. And they get real joy knowing that the money we make here is helping the underprivileged. And, here, everyone is in the same boat. Obviously, I’m in charge of the finances and they trust me with that. That’s also important to me, because the women’s ability to trust has been destroyed by their previous circumstances. They have a tentative start here, learning to trust again, whether that’s me, the other women, anyone.’

  ‘And Delores Ward, even though she lives out in that cabin … she is part of your community?’ said Ren.

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘So, could she have her own bank account, for example?’ said Ren.

  ‘A bank account?’ said Eleanor. She laughed. ‘No. This is a woman who lives alone, has no internet access, no mode of transport. She doesn’t even receive mail. She has no family. Some other members of the community may have bank accounts. It’s not like we would stop them or monitor that.’

  ‘Well, I’m looking down at a list of witnesses to the bank robbery in Conifer,’ said Ren. ‘On the same day as a murder. And her name is right here: Delores Ward. She told us she was in her cabin all day, apart from a trip to the chapel.’

  ‘Yes – that’s what I thought too,’ said Eleanor. ‘This is so strange. Honestly – Delores’ day is a minimum twenty-one hours in that cabin with a few trips over and back to the chapel for prayer, but even that isn’t a strict schedule. We deliver her meals to her, but she’s always there to accept them, unless she’s unwell. And if she’s unwell, we take care of her in the abbey. The idea of her being off the property without my knowledge is … it would be a surprise.’

  ‘The robbery was just before one p.m.,’ said Ren, ‘so she could have had time to get there and back.’

  ‘But how?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Well, could she have gotten one of the staff at the ranch to take her?’ said Ren. ‘Or one of the kids?’

  ‘Maybe one of the staff, even though I don’t think she would,’ said Eleanor. ‘But certainly not one of the kids – I can’t see her condoning that kind of behavior, even if it would benefit her.’

  ‘I admit it does seem strange, but at the very least, she – and whoever was in the car with her – were likely to have driven by the scene of the shooting.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, I didn’t think of that,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘well I need to speak with Delores again. It’s important.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Eleanor. ‘She should be in her cabin …’

  Ren put down the phone. Robbie had arrived while she had been talking to Eleanor.

  ‘Cabin Lady was lie-telling!’ she said. ‘Everyone is lie-telling!’

  ‘What?’ said Robbie.

  ‘Her name is on a list of witnesses in the Conifer robbery,’ said Ren.

  ‘I haven’t even looked at those yet,’ said Robbie.

  ‘She was interviewed by one of Kohler’s guys – she was one of the first to be interviewed – in an age-before-beauty kind of way – so she was gone before we arrived. And after that, we were all about the bandits.’

  ‘Why would she lie about that?’ said Robbie.

  ‘And to your purty face,’ said Ren.

  ‘And yours!’ said Robbie.

  ‘We need to go and speak with her,’ said Ren. ‘She could have seen anything on that road home. And, apart from the audacious lying – how the hell did she get to the bank and back?’

  ‘Well, she sure suckered me,’ said Robbie.

  ‘And to think we were going to sleep on her sofa …’

  Ren knocked on Delores’ cabin door and held her badge up to the small window when her face appeared. Delores struggled with the latch before it opened.

  ‘Come on in,’ she said.

  I wonder have you been tipped off by Eleanor.

  ‘We’re here about a different matter today,’ said Robbie. ‘We just read that you’re on the witness list for the bank robbery in Conifer on May 14th. You never mentioned that.’

  ‘Did you think that was important?’ she said. Her voice sounded shaky.

  ‘Well, it could be …’ said Robbie.

  ‘But … y
ou really only asked me about the car at the ranch,’ said Delores. ‘And I said that I heard voices some time between ten and noon, which is true.’

  ‘And then you said you went to the chapel …’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes, and I went to the bank after that,’ said Delores. ‘Were you interested in that timeframe too? You said midday …’

  I cannot look at Robbie because I will see the same feelings of idiocy in his eyes.

  ‘So, how long have you been banking in Wells Fargo in Conifer?’ said Ren.

  ‘Is this relevant?’ said Delores.

  Shit.

  ‘Well, no,’ said Ren.

  ‘Because, I’m not your bandit,’ she smiled. ‘And you read my statement. I told the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office detective everything I saw, which was pretty much nothing, because I dropped straight to the floor … well, as straight as an eighty-year-old woman can.’

  How come you have a bank account is what I want to ask you.

  ‘How did you get to the bank that day?’ said Ren.

  ‘I hitched a ride with one of the gentlemen from the landscaping firm,’ said Delores. ‘I don’t know his name, but Eleanor will have the details.’

  ‘And did he bring you back from Conifer?’ said Ren.

  ‘No, I came back with Burt Kendall … he owns the Auto Sales and Auto Parts store. He’s very good to us at the abbey.’

  ‘And did you go all the way down Stoney Pass Road?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Delores. ‘We took the first right. From what I heard, the young lady’s … death … would have happened further down the road.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Ren. ‘I forgot to ask – on the day of the shooting – did you pass any other cars on the road?’

  ‘No,’ said Delores.

  Everyone turned as one of the postcards slid from the wall, landing picture-side down at Delores’ feet. Ren bent down and picked it up. Delores’ arm shot out. Ren stalled, quickly glancing down, scanning it. It was addressed to Delores Ward at the abbey. All it said was Having the time of our lives! Love, Teddy and Thomas. Ren turned it over. It was a faded, dated image of Huntsville, Texas.

  Fun and games and death row.

  ‘Do you want me to pin it back up?’ said Ren.