Agent Ren Bryce Thriller Series Books 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss. Alex Barclay
him. He was relieved to co-operate. He was very grateful –’
‘Aren’t they all?’ said Colin. ‘Grateful … and manipulative.’
‘The head guy in the gang was insane,’ said Gary. ‘By the end, Waites had had enough.’
‘So … Waites and Jean,’ said Ren.
‘We have no record of her calling Waites that night, but if this Salem guy is correct, she did pay him a visit around the time she disappeared.’
‘I’ll go talk to him tonight,’ said Ren.
‘OK,’ said Gary. ‘I’ll pass his file over to you. Maybe you could go with Todd Austerval.’
‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘I just need to go home, pick up my Jeep.’
Ren needed a ride back to her house in Golden – an hour’s drive east on I-70 toward Denver – to pick up her newly repaired Jeep and some supplies. Robbie offered to take her. She wasn’t feeling sociable enough for him, but she said yes. She threw him one-word answers, but he had enough questions to keep it going indefinitely. It had been a while since she rode with him.
‘So – big case,’ said Robbie.
Ren glanced at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Murder of a federal agent.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re heading it up.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but …’
Uh-oh.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘Colin thinks you and Paul Louderback … you know …’
‘That’s so weird,’ said Ren. ‘When Gary got Colin to head up whatever, I thought he and Gary … you know …’
Robbie glanced at her. ‘I was just saying what I heard.’
‘Who else was in on this conversation?’ said Ren.
‘A few of the others.’
‘You’re like a bunch of old ladies in a hair salon. Christ. Paul Louderback and I did not … you know.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘So, how’s Vincent?’ said Robbie.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘I might be about to find out.’
‘He’ll be home?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why don’t you call him?’
‘Why? It doesn’t matter if he’s home or not. I’m just going in, picking up clothes and leaving.’
‘Are you sure? I’m not going to sit out in the car like a loser while you have some big, emotional reunion.’
Robbie’s cellphone rang. He answered. ‘Really? Sure. OK. Not a problem.’
‘Slight detour here,’ said Robbie. ‘There’s a body in the cooler I need to check out.’
‘Here?’
He nodded.
‘Did it come in from Summit County?’ said Ren.
Robbie shook his head. ‘No – Clear Creek.’
* * *
The Jefferson County Coroner’s Office was in a government complex ten minutes from Main Street, Golden. Dr Tolman was an on-call pathologist for sixteen counties, including Summit County and Clear Creek County.
‘Male, late forties,’ said Tolman as he let them in. ‘He was found in the Clear Creek River. Some numb-nut deputy coroner brought him here, didn’t call anyone, didn’t quite pick up on the fact that this was a gunshot wound. The water had washed all the blood away.’
‘Even so …’ said Ren.
‘I know,’ said Tolman.
They walked in to where the body was laid out on the stainless steel.
Denis Lasco stood by the scales.
‘Hello again,’ said Ren.
‘Hello, there,’ said Lasco.
‘Back on the job already?’
‘With a heavy heart,’ he said, holding up what he had just taken from the chest cavity.
Ren smiled.
‘When I realized the only thing to jump my bones recently was a corpse, I knew I had to get back out in the world.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Ren. She gestured to Robbie. ‘This is my colleague, Robbie Truax.’
‘I was thinking of easing my way back into the job,’ said Lasco, ‘start with some paperwork, come down here, bring some notes to the doc. And here I am, suited up, today’s head sawer-offer and chest cracker.’ He looked at them. ‘His assistant called in sick. Next thing two bodies require attention. We had a DWPA,’ said Lasco. ‘And then this.’
Ren was nodding when she realized she had no idea what he meant. ‘What’s a DWPA?’
Lasco smiled. ‘Death With Paramedic Assistance.’
‘Ooh,’ said Ren, smiling back. Robbie cracked up.
‘He was an old guy, heart attack,’ said Lasco. ‘I’m sorry, but these flatlander doctors run all these health checks at sea level, then give people the all-clear to go up two miles on vacation. It’s crazy. It’s sad. I just hate seeing those wives when their husbands are lying dead of a heart attack. Unless those wives are under thirty. Then I’m wondering whose idea was it to take a high-altitude holiday? “Honey, come on up where your heart is going to have to work harder. And maybe in a couple days, my bank balance won’t.”’
‘Grim,’ said Ren.
‘Totally,’ said Lasco. ‘And, natural causes, ski accidents, ODs – it’s unbelievable how mercenary the families are. They’re the ones with the death grip, know what I mean? I have pried credit cards and jewelry out of their hands. Can you imagine? Now I photocopy every single personal belonging that comes in with the body. It’s disgusting. It really is disgusting. I’m laying out wallets and ski passes and drivers’ licenses and frickin’ Chapstick on my photocopier …’ He shook his head.
‘Karma will get them,’ said Ren. ‘I really believe that. You can’t live a greedy life like that without it coming back and biting you in the ass …’
Robbie nodded.
‘I hope so,’ said Lasco. He pointed to a shelf unit by the wall. ‘OK – suits and masks are over there.’
Ren and Robbie put them on. When they were done, they looked around for a box of booties. Ren noticed that Tolman’s stylish leather shoes were uncovered. Lasco caught her.
He spoke quietly. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t wear them. And I’m sorry, these are mine. I’ve no extras.’
Ren looked down at her two-hundred-dollar lace-up hiking boots.
‘What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘I’ve done the chest already,’ said Lasco, when they were standing at the body.
‘So,’ said Tolman, ‘GSW to the back of the head. Exit wound here in the lower jaw … Denis, help me out here.’
He and Lasco turned the body over. Ren couldn’t take her eyes off