‘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?’
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.’