Killing Ways Page 4

  Not hungry enough to make great effort.

  She threw together a salad of arugula and parmesan, cracked some black pepper over it, soaked it in balsamic vinegar and a dash of olive oil and sat back on the sofa to eat.

  Her phone beeped with a text from her boyfriend. She had been going out with Ben Rader for ten months. He was an FBI Agent in D.C., keen to make a bigger commitment than Ren was willing to. She had deflected his offer to look for a transfer to Denver so they could move in together. He hadn’t even made the suggestion that she move to D.C. But she loved him, and he loved her. It was only the lying about the meds that stood between them. One giant pharmaceutical wall.

  Ren ate half the salad before she set it aside. She pulled a bright red cushion onto her lap, set her laptop on it and opened Hope Coulson’s Facebook account. She spent over an hour going through it. She was struck by one thing: Hope always posted photos from her nights out, throughout the night, and always commented on the event the following day: Blast in XYZ bar with m’girls! or Me&J in XYZ’s. Except for one Friday night, two weeks before she went missing.

  Hmm. Why the deviation?

  That day, Facebook showed that Hope Coulson went for a late lunch with her girlfriends for one of their birthdays, and posted photos over the course of the afternoon. The next photo uploaded was at 7 p.m., taken in a sports bar – a loved-up selfie with Jonathan. The next photo, in a different bar, was taken at 10 p.m. and was just of Jonathan. And that was it; no comment on the night the following day. And the next post was on Monday afternoon, when she had finished work.

  Something about that isn’t right. She was drinking at lunch, kept going when she went to meet Jonathan, didn’t appear in a photo herself. Because she was too drunk? She had a kindergarten-teacher reputation to uphold. Or maybe something happened. Did they have a fight? Maybe whatever happened that night sent her into hiding the following day. Maybe the night was not a night worth writing about for whatever reason …

  Ren put down the glass of wine.

  She texted Janine. FOMO. Fear of Missing Out.

  She got a text right back: You know where to find me. Robbie left early on. Everett just gone . . .

  Four hours later, Ren was leaning into the mirror in the ladies’ room of Gaffney’s, her makeup bag open on the wet tiles.

  Why can’t there be raised shelves away from the sinks? How hard can that be, people?

  Janine arrived, passing two girls who had been taking selfies together before they left.

  ‘I’m so old,’ said Ren. ‘The idea of constantly updating social media when I’m trying to get hammered is hellish. I hate even being around people who do that. Relax, everyone. And get the fuck out of my face.’

  ‘I know,’ said Janine. ‘But at least it helps us do our job … suckers!’

  ‘Speaking of which – Hope Coulson was out two weeks before she went missing, then thirty-six hours disappeared into a black social media hole, which was not her style. I’m just wondering, did something happen? And we know I don’t like to wonder for too long. I like to go out there and find the fuck out.’ She ran her finger under each eye to tidy up her mascara. ‘I need to speak with Briar again.’

  ‘You heard he’s lawyered up, though …’

  Ren turned to her.

  ‘Oh, I know that face,’ said Janine. ‘Don’t go there without the lawyer.’

  ‘I just have a couple of tiny questions …’

  ‘Oh, they’re cool with the tiny ones … phew.’

  ‘But I don’t think he’s a suspect,’ said Ren.

  ‘Not the point. Don’t risk it. Gary will go apeshit. And speaking of risking shit, whatever you’re about to do here, don’t.’

  ‘I was about to put some lip gloss on,’ said Ren. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Janine. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you and that guy out there, but …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Ren. ‘Don’t worry. I have zero interest in him.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure he feels the same way.’

  ‘That’s his problem.’

  Janine studied her in the mirror.

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ said Ren. ‘The guy’s not even drinking.’

  ‘I don’t think a man needs to be drinking to make a move on you,’ said Janine. She paused. ‘Anyhoo, I think I’m about ready to call it a night.’

  ‘Noooo,’ said Ren.

  Janine nodded. ‘I’m exhausted. Do you mind?’

  ‘No, but I’m wiiide awake – do you mind if I stay?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Janine. ‘I’ll see you back at the ranch.’ She hugged Ren, and pulled back. ‘I know Gary’s not actually here, but you seem to be in his crosshairs. I’m not sure it’s to do with all this partying, but—’

  ‘Fuck Gary!’

  6

  Ren was dancing hard and fast, bright-eyed and soaring, wild of heart and intentions. The people around her were happy and free and smiling and a reflection of her. They moved together, buoyant and powerful. Two guys joined her on the dance floor – one in front, one behind.

  I may be old enough to be the front guy’s mother. He has no clue. Or does he?

  He was smiling at her with his gorgeous, perfect teeth.

  Ren smiled back.

  Boom-boom-BOOM. Boom-boom-BOOM. Boom-boom-BOOOOOM.

  I wonder what Ben would make of this? I mean, it’s all perfectly innocent, but still. Would I like to see him in a girl sandwich? I don’t know … Yes you do. You’d kill him.

  Ren backed into the other guy, and the front guy moved forward. They all moved with instinctive rhythm.

  ‘We’re good at this!’ said Ren.

  ‘We are!’ said the front guy.

  She could feel the back guy’s breath on her neck.

  Ew. Garlic stranger breath.

  She squeezed her way out from between them. ‘Thank you, gentle men!’

  ‘Don’t go!’ said one.

  ‘Stay!’ said the other.

  ‘Bar!’ said Ren. I’m way too sober for these shenanigans. I’ve sweated out the alcohol.

  Half an hour later, Ren was back with her original group of strange men. Her phone buzzed in her purse. She took it out.

  It was a text from Janine. She could barely focus on it.

  I can’t find the key! Stranded outside apartment …!

  Shitttt. I don’t want to leeeave. Fuck. Maybe Janine can go back to her house. Don’t be an asshole.

  ‘Excuse me, gentle men,’ said Ren. ‘I’m going to have to go.’

  ‘What? Why?’ said one of them.

  ‘My friend is locked out of my apartment.’

  ‘Is it far?’ said the guy.

  ‘Ten minutes in a cab,’ said Ren.

  ‘I can drive you,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been drinking.’

  Ren felt a small spike of sobriety. He could be a psycho. Lots of psychos don’t drink or do drugs because they don’t want to lose control. Jesus. Worst-Case Scenario Girl strikes again.

  ‘That means I can drive you back here after,’ said the guy. ‘Keep the party going!’

  I hate that expression. ‘OK! That’s an excellent idea! What’s your name again?’

  ‘JD.’

  ‘Thank you, JD!’

  They pushed through the hot, crowded bar onto the street. The night was warm. There was only a gentle breeze, but it hit her like a slap.

  Whoa. My head.

  She called Janine. She picked up right away.

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Janine.

  ‘I’m on my way,’ said Ren. ‘One of the guys is giving me a ride.’

  ‘What?’ said Janine. ‘Get a cab. Who is he? Has he been drinking?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Ren. ‘He’s tonight’s designated driver. With a name like JD that’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?’

  JD laughed. He unlocked the car door.

  ‘He’s going to bring me back to the bar after, too,�
�� said Ren.

  Pause. ‘Really?’ said Janine.

  What’s with that tone of voice? ‘Yes. Would you like me to call one of my neighbors, see if they’ll buzz you in, make sure you’re safe?’

  ‘Ren, it’s almost two a.m.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Ren. ‘It’s very late to be hanging around—’

  ‘Ren? Ren, listen to me: do not call your neighbors. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘See you in ten.’

  Janine was waiting on the steps outside the apartment.

  ‘There she is!’ said Ren. ‘Safe!’ She jumped out of the car, with the key already in her hand. ‘Here.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ said Janine.

  ‘It’s fine!’ said Ren. ‘Don’t worry. Will you be OK?’

  ‘No,’ said Janine.

  ‘What?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Janine. ‘Come with me. I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.’

  Nowww? Ren glanced over at JD. He was a blur standing by his car. The streetlights were glowing, everything was glowing. Ren turned back to Janine, struggling to focus.

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘OK.’ She ran back down the steps. ‘Thank you, JD! But I’m going to stay, now that I’m here.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

  ‘Aw, that’s a shame,’ said JD. ‘Are you sure? I just got a text from one of the guys – party at his place.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Ren, ‘but I better not. I don’t want to leave Janine.’

  JD looked up at Janine with an expression that said killjoy.

  Inside the apartment, Ren went looking for vodka, Janine went looking for water and Vitamin C tablets.

  ‘Here,’ she said, putting them down in front of Ren.

  ‘What is this?’ said Ren. ‘The drinking is not over yet. What would you like?’

  ‘I’m good, thank you,’ said Janine.

  ‘So,’ said Ren, ‘what do you need to talk about? Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Janine. ‘I … just wanted you to stop what you were doing.’

  Um, what?

  ‘I know you said you were fine,’ said Janine, ‘but I was afraid you were going to do something you would regret.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Ren.

  ‘Come on,’ said Janine. ‘JD, he’s a good-looking guy. You two were flirting.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, why does everyone think I’m flirting when I’m just having fun?’

  ‘It seemed like more than that to me,’ said Janine, ‘and definitely to him. Why else would he offer you a ride home? A guy wouldn’t do that unless he wanted something in return.’

  ‘Cynic!’ said Ren. ‘And I think you over-estimate my attractiveness.’

  Janine shook her head. ‘I don’t. I’ve seen it enough times. When you focus on people you focus on them, it’s so lovely, it really is, but you know men … they want the world to revolve around them, and you make it so.’

  Oh, God, I’ve heard that before. ‘I was just having fun!’ I don’t have a dial to regulate the attention I pay.

  ‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but I know that it wouldn’t be fun at all if you cheated on Ben. You’d never forgive yourself. I wasn’t sure you were in control of all that tonight, and I didn’t want to wake up to an empty apartment or – worse – have you wake up to a different man to the one who loves you. The one you love.’

  Damn it. ‘I wouldn’t have done anything.’

  ‘Another drink might have changed all that,’ said Janine. ‘I had a bad vibe.’

  ‘Well,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks for caring.’

  Janine laughed. ‘Once more with feeling.’

  Ren got into bed and texted Ben. Love you. XX

  7

  Ren woke at eight thirty the next morning. Oooh. Where am I? Oh, I’m home. Thank God. Alone. Phew. OK. Janine stayed here. How did I get here? Cab. OK. No – a guy called JD. Nice guy. Nothing happened. That’s a positive. There’s hope for me.

  Hope. Victims should never be called Hope. What happened to you, Hope Coulson? Did you get drunk in a bar, take a ride home with a stranger?

  Ren got up and stuck her head into the living room.

  No Janine. Why didn’t she call me? She hates me. I’m a liability on nights out.

  Ren turned on the radio and went into the bathroom. She stepped onto the scales: one hundred and nineteen pounds. Thank you. Don’t ever change. She went to the toilet, washed her hands, dried them, then stepped on the scales again: still one hundred and nineteen pounds. So, I didn’t drink that much.

  I’m high-larious.

  She looked in the mirror. Ooh: not a good look, though a familiar one. I like the cheekbones, though.

  She jumped in the shower and used every energizing product and scrub she could find to startle her awake. She dressed in gray, high-waisted straight-leg pants, a starched white shirt, a pale gold necklace with two pendants: one shaped like a crescent moon, the other shaped like a star. She did a quick makeup job, left her hair wet, and ran.

  Fifteen minutes later, she parked outside the Livestock Exchange Building. She began to jog up the steps, but her pounding head slowed her march. She walked through the doors, her footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor. She headed for the wide central staircase instead of the elevator. The staircase led onto a landing, then left or right for more steps to the next floor, and the same all the way to the top. She could hear a man above loudly announce, ‘This is not safe!’

  Ren looked up. He was rattling a clearly unstable guardrail along the second floor balcony.

  And who the fuck might you be?

  ‘Is this even forty-two inches high, I have to wonder,’ he was saying.

  Really? Do you?

  He made his way up to the fourth floor.

  The Safe Streets floor.

  Ren recognized the woman rushing up the stairs behind him as Valerie, the real estate agent – giving him a tour. There were four office spaces to rent in the building.

  On other floors.

  Oh – Valerie! She might help me and Misty find a home!

  Ren continued up the stairs. ‘Sir, this is not the floor with the vacant space,’ Valerie was saying. She looked down at Ren, exasperated.

  ‘That’s not the point!’ said the man. ‘How well maintained is this building is what I’m thinking.’ He tried to rattle the guardrail on the fourth floor, but it held firm. He looked disappointed.

  Ren smiled at him as she passed by to walk through the door into Safe Streets. He was standing about four feet to her right. She paused. ‘We don’t walk out around there,’ said Ren, pointing down to the second floor balcony. ‘No one does, so, we’ve never noticed the problem. That’s a dummy door at the end. The elevator bank is down the other way. However, I’m sure we can get the guardrail that you will never use fixed for you in no time, so that when you never use it, it will be safe, and you won’t plunge down if you never fall from a place where you will never again be going.’

  She walked through the door. She could hear Valerie rambling about the fourth floor being a federal area.

  ‘And there’s no security in the building?’ said the man. ‘No scanners? Nothing?’

  ‘This is not the FBI’s main federal building in Denver,’ Valerie was saying. ‘Would you really want to have to be scanned every morning coming to work, Rodney, really? Emptying your pockets? Taking out your phone, your coins, having your bags searched?’

  Ren was smiling as she walked down the hallway. No, Rodney, you would not. I wouldn’t want that myself. God bless our compact little squad in our beautiful historic home.

  Ren’s cell phone rang.

  Ben!

  She picked up. ‘Hey, baby.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Ben. ‘Thought I’d catch you before work. How you doing? How was your night?’

  ‘Great,’ said Ren. ‘Just let me take off my jacket, sit down. Yes, great night. We met some hilarious guys at the bar … one of them gave me a
ride home. Janine forgot her keys—’

  ‘Who was this guy?’ said Ben.

  ‘Just a guy called JD,’ said Ren. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? I don’t know – rides home with strange guys and I can’t ask who he is?’

  ‘“Strange guys” … one guy. A regular guy, not strange. Janine met him.’ And tried to keep me away from him. ‘He was fine.’

  ‘Good to know.’ He paused. ‘Aren’t you exhausted? All these nights out?’

  ‘No, Mom. I’m good.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll let you get back to work,’ said Ben.

  ‘Great,’ said Ren. ‘Talk to you later.’

  ‘Don’t call me late.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Bo. Ring.

  Everett came into the bullpen with two mugs of coffee and put one on Ren’s desk. ‘We must stop meeting like this,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘God bless you and the caffeine I’ll ride out on.’

  Ren opened up her laptop again, and went back to Hope Coulson’s Facebook page.

  Something is not right here.

  She filled Everett in on what she had read the previous night. ‘I need to pay a visit to Jonathan Briar,’ she said.

  ‘Well,’ said Everett, ‘news just in: he’s lawyered up.’

  ‘No, I know,’ said Ren. ‘Janine told me. I just want to ask him about that one night.’

  Everett shook his head. ‘Not without his lawyer … who, by the way, is well aware of the lack of hard evidence against his client.’

  ‘As am I,’ said Ren. She leaned in. ‘Has Gary mentioned to you his exact theory on what happened to Hope Coulson?’

  ‘No,’ said Everett, ‘but doesn’t he seem a little … distracted to you?’

  Ren nodded. ‘Yup. I don’t think he’s himself right now.’ Something is rotten in the state of his marriage.

  ‘I don’t know him well enough to know what “hisself” is,’ said Everett.

  ‘I know him too well,’ said Ren. ‘And he’s still a fucking mystery.’ She looked up. ‘Speaking of mysteries …’

  ‘Hello, flatmate,’ said Janine, walking in.