Agent Ren Bryce Thriller Series Books 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss. Alex Barclay
she said again. But she barely drew her eyes away from the body.
‘Do you want to go take them off some place?’ said Tolman, pointing to her boots.
She shook her head, motioned for him to continue.
‘Anyway, what I was showing you was this,’ said Tolman, drawing his finger down the spine. ‘The victim’s cachectic, so you can –’
‘He’s what?’ said Robbie.
‘Look at him,’ said Ren, pointing to the body. ‘What do you think it means?’
Robbie glanced at her. So did Tolman. Ren would have blushed if she was able.
‘Skinny?’ said Robbie.
‘Basically,’ said Dr Tolman.
Ren was staring at the body. ‘He’s … got scoliosis.’
There was a crooked man
And he walked a crooked mile
‘Yes,’ said Tolman. ‘Yes. That’s what I was going to show you – how clearly you can see the curvature of the spine.’
Robbie elbowed Ren. ‘Ren … are you there?’
‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Yes, sorry. OK – so this dirtbag was found in the Clear Creek River …’
‘Yes,’ said Tolman. ‘In a foot of water. Hadn’t gone too far, no injuries from rocks and not there very long.’ He looked at them. There was hope in his expression. ‘I guess I was on high alert because of your colleague on Quandary. I don’t know any details, I’ll be waiting for Denis here’s report, but anything suspicious …’ He was talking faster to get it over with in case he was wrong. ‘’Cos of where this guy was found, I was thinking maybe he was on the back way out of Summit County. It could mean something.’ He shrugged.
‘It does,’ said Ren.
They all looked at her.
‘But my guess is he wasn’t on his way out of Summit County. He was leaving Denver on his way to Summit County, until he heard the news that the FBI and God-knows-who-else would be heading along I-70 that way too. Instead, he and his buddies went through the Canyon and something this guy did pissed off the posse.’
‘Specific,’ said Robbie.
‘A hunch,’ said Ren.
Robbie dropped Ren at her house in Golden.
‘I won’t park in the driveway,’ said Robbie. ‘In case …’
‘In case what?’
‘Vincent might think … you and me …’
‘He knows me better than that,’ said Ren, too quickly. ‘What I mean is … he knows I wouldn’t run from him directly into the arms of another – albeit handsome – younger man.’
‘Your Jeep is looking very nice and shiny,’ said Robbie.
‘It is,’ said Ren. ‘I better head in. You can come with me if you like.’
He glanced at her. She was half-smiling.
‘I don’t think there’ll be any reunion,’ said Ren.
‘I really like Vincent,’ said Robbie. ‘I approved of Vincent.’
Ren smiled and patted him on the leg. ‘Thanks for the ride. See you back in Breck. I won’t be long.’
Vincent came to the door barefoot and dressed in sweats. He had a bottle of Bud in his hand.
‘Hi,’ said Ren.
‘Hi.’
‘You’re drinking early.’
‘Well, it’s later than when I started …’
‘And when was that?’ said Ren.
Vincent shrugged, slowly.
‘I … just dropped by for the Jeep and to pick up some stuff. Did you know it is almost impossible to find any nice underwear in Breckenridge?’
‘I did not,’ said Vincent.
‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘It looks like I’ll be staying in Breck for the next while – which might make things a little easier.’
‘How do you figure that?’
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Give me a break.’ Her tone was gentle.
‘Why should I?’ said Vincent.
‘I’m not here for long, OK? I don’t want to get into anything.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘We’ve got a dead agent up there.’
‘I meant with us. But shit – who?’
‘Jean Transom. She worked out of Glenwood. Nice woman, according to everyone; great agent. No one knows what happened.’
‘Was it homicide?’
‘Yup. And the body’s gone.’
‘What?’
‘In that avalanche.’
‘I saw it on the news.’
Ren nodded. ‘So, it’s all snowstorms and shit-storms. And I’m leading the case.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Thanks.’
She looked past him. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Sure. Sorry.’ He stepped back.
Ren walked past the kitchen and saw a pile of empty beer bottles on the floor and a bumper bottle of Advil, cap off, on the counter above them. What have I done to poor Vincent? She couldn’t look at him. She went quickly upstairs, gathered more than she needed, packed it into one of his nice suitcases and dragged it down to the hallway. Vincent was knocking back his beer and smiling sadly at her.
‘You know, some day, Ren? All those negative emotions you run away from will pick up the pace and they’ll catch up.’
Ren shrugged. ‘If they haven’t yet …’
‘They will. I shouldn’t care, but I do.’
‘Look, I’m about to work an important –’
‘You need to work on yourself.’
Ren rolled her eyes. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Christ, how can you take responsibility in work like that and, like, absolutely none in your personal life?’
‘That’s not true and you know it. It just feels true to you right now.’
‘It is true.’
‘Whatever. You love holding things over me, don’t you? You’re all stable and reliable, and I’m on the run from shit.’
‘You’re the only person I know who says “whatever” and then keeps on defending themselves. Most people say “whatever” and they mean “whatever”. They mean “whatever you think”, so they don’t bother saying any more.’
‘Jesus, you are anal. You try to shut me up based on linguistics? You think that’s going to work?’
‘Oh Lord, no. Nothing works with you. Nothing.’
Ren stared at him, her eyes alight.
‘So, do you think you’re better off without me?’ said Vincent.
‘What