Blood Runs Cold rb-1 Read online

  Bob had shifted forward in his seat, but hung there, mute. Transom was looking at him as if he would disagree with Ren. Ren spoke to draw his gaze back to her. ‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘So sorry. I wish I wasn’t sitting here having to tell you this.’

  Transom was rigid. His eyes were running everywhere. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking back to them both, ‘I don’t mean to be … I’m just wondering …are you sure?’

  The front door opened and four kids in ski suits ran in, trailing snow behind them. The last one slipped on the wet floor and slammed his head into the side of the sofa. He burst out crying. Ren was the first to make it to him, lifting him up gently from the ground.

  ‘You’re OK, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘That silly snow, making a mess on the floor.’ He looked up at her through his tears, wondering who she was and why she was carrying him. Ren looked past him, waiting for his mother. An over-made-up brunette came in the door, leaning down, rubbing snow off a giant black Newfoundland.

  Ren was already walking toward her with her crying son.

  ‘Mrs Transom?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, reaching out and taking her child in her arms. She looked around the room at everyone. She gave Ren an extra up-and-down.

  ‘Who are our guests, Patrick?’ she said.

  He turned to the kids. ‘Hey, guys. Straight to bed, OK? You’ve had a late night. Take care of the little guy.’

  The eldest girl went to her mom and took her little brother.

  ‘This is my wife, Ellie,’ said Patrick, when the kids had all left.

  Bob stood up. ‘Hello – Sheriff Bob Gage from Summit County.’

  ‘And I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce with the FBI.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Jean’s dead,’ said Patrick. His voice was flat.

  Ellie looked at him like it was his abruptness that had caught her off guard, not what he was telling her.

  ‘Your sister, Jean?’

  ‘Of course it’s my sister, Jean,’ said Patrick. ‘Who else would it be?’

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she snapped.

  Ren stared at her. What the hell is wrong with you? ‘He’s in shock, Mrs Transom. Please, sit down.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve never … he’s just not like that.’

  A real Southern Belle. Manners over all. ‘I’m sure he isn’t,’ said Ren.

  Ellie walked around the back of the sofa and came in to sit beside her husband, putting her hand on top of his. It was an odd connection.

  Ren sat down beside Bob.

  ‘What happened?’ said Ellie.

  ‘We don’t know yet,’ said Ren. ‘But her body was found on Quandary –’

  ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘The missing body? That one?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you something else, but yes,’ said Ren.

  ‘Are you going to recover it?’ she said. ‘You are going to recover it.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Transom.

  They all looked at him.

  ‘I worked Ski Patrol,’ he said. ‘I know how it goes. If it’s unstable up there, no one’s going to go up, right? No point in risking real lives for a dead body. So you’ll have to wait months until the snow melts. Am I right?’

  Ren was happy to leave that one to Bob.

  ‘Well, if you’ve worked Ski Patrol …’ he said.

  ‘So, OK, let me get this straight,’ said Ellie. ‘You have no body, but you’re saying Jean is dead.’

  ‘It’s Jean, honey, OK?’ said Transom. ‘It is Jean. Do these people look like fools to you?’

  Again, Ellie looked like she was listening to a complete stranger. She looked at Ren. ‘My husband is not normally –’

  ‘Mrs Transom, I’m sorry,’ said Ren, ‘but your husband is not normally told he has lost his only sister and her body may not be recovered for months.’

  Ren could feel Bob’s thigh clench beside her.

  Ellie turned to her husband. ‘Oh, honey. This is terrible news. This is just terrible. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’ She started to cry. She put her arms around him. He fell against her and it was only then that Ren saw how close they really were.

  Bob and Ren gave their speech and their cards and left the Transoms alone. Ren looked at Bob with sad eyes. She leaned on his arm to walk down the icy steps.

  ‘That was one hell of a lucky break, that he worked Ski Patrol,’ said Bob.

  ‘Can you imagine?’ said Ren. ‘I can’t believe we got off so lightly.’

  ‘Christ, though,’ said Bob, ‘we didn’t even show him a photo, an ID, a scrap of clothing, nothing and he took our word.’

  He opened Ren’s door.

  ‘I know. But,’ she said, getting in, ‘he’s in total shock. He could come around and flip out. Or his wife could put pressure on him. Or on us. The media could get a hold of him –’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bob, ‘he seems a calm type of guy. Like that kind of outside influence wouldn’t affect him.’

  ‘But we only had two seconds with him before he realized something was wrong and started to react. I mean, what does two seconds tell you?’

  ‘I just don’t think he’s the hysterical type …’

  They drove in silence for a little while. Bob reached over and turned on the radio to Ren’s least favorite – Seventies rock. She sat tight.

  ‘Transom’s what? Twenty-eight, twenty-nine?’ said Ren. ‘Their daughter must be seven. Is it me or are people who marry really young and have loads of kids trying to make up for a shitty childhood?’

  ‘Spoken like the true single and childless.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Ren, smiling.

  ‘How about,’ said Bob, ‘their childhood was so amazing that they wanted to continue the tradition?’ said Bob.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ren. ‘I like your idea better.’

  ‘There you go,’ said Bob. ‘Be sunny.’

  9

  The Firelight Inn stood at the cross-section of French Street and Wellington – a beautiful clapboard Victorian house in a muted blue-gray from the Breckenridge town palette. A picket fence ran around the garden. The snow had drifted up to the window sills.

  ‘Good night,’ said Bob. ‘Sleep well. Seven fifteen at the office, OK?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ren, waving him off, pushing in the front door to the inn. The hallway was covered in thick mats and clumps of snow. Rows of snowboards and skis lined the wall. The Firelight was half-inn, half-hostel. Ren had a cozy suite on the top floor, with an entrance from the house and an external staircase. When she got to her room, she walked over to the window and stared out at the white night.

  She took out her cellphone and dialed. ‘I love it,’ she said.

  At the other end, Paul Louderback laughed. ‘I knew you would.’

  ‘When were you here?’

  ‘Two summers ago. With Marianne and the kids. We took a suite –’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘With the separate stairs up? Above the hot tub?’

  ‘Yes. It’s great.’

  ‘I thought you might like it. Marianne wanted to stay in one of the condos …’

  ‘I’d rather –’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Condos are so the same everywhere,’ said Ren.

  ‘I know. Hey, don’t forget to sign up for breakfast before you go to bed.’

  ‘Do I call down?’ she said, looking for a phone that wasn’t there.

  ‘Are you looking for a phone?’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘There’s a list with a swinging pencil by the office,’ said Paul. ‘You go down and tick the box for whatever you want. It’s all really good.’

  ‘Is there a box for “the company of Paul Louderback”?’

  Paul laughed. ‘Yeah, for the crazies.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What was I thinking?’

  Ren laughed, then sighed. ‘So … Jean Transom. I don’t know what you know at t
his stage. Did you hear that Denis Lasco, the coroner, is OK?’

  ‘No. And …?’

  ‘All he would commit to was GSW. He didn’t have long with the body.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘He’s going to be cautious. He blacked out, so he’s doubting his memory – number one. And number two, this is a federal agent we’re dealing with, a high-profile case. I doubt he wants to be the one making big statements, in case he’s wrong. Or he derails the investigation. And? The body could show up in the morning and contradict anything he tells us.’

  ‘Who found the body?’

  ‘Anon,’ said Ren. ‘I would venture a back-country skier who was not supposed to be where he was. And with the FBI all over it, he won’t be showing his face any time soon.’

  ‘I see,’ said Paul.

  ‘Can I ask?’ said Ren. ‘Why me as case agent?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m flattered, but why am I the chosen one?’

  ‘Desperation is a word that comes to mind.’

  ‘I was thinking …’

  ‘You know why?’ said Paul. ‘No body … does it better.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Look, you’re good at your job,’ said Paul. ‘There it is. The thing you can’t believe in.’

  ‘Well, thank you for your faith.’

  ‘And thank you in advance for solving the crime.’

  ‘And thank you for the pressure.’

  ‘Any time.’

  ‘Oh – you never answered me earlier. Did you know Jean?’ said Ren.

  ‘I didn’t know her personally. But I taught her at the academy. She was quiet, kept to herself.’

  ‘The poor woman.’

  ‘I know. OK, I gotta go. Sleep well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘You too.’

  ‘And dream gently.’

  She paused. ‘I’ll try.’ Damn you, Paul Louderback.

  The South Ridge Seafood Grill was the kind of place that sucked you under its awning and through its open doors. It was on a quiet strip on Ridge Street, but had taken most of the Tuesday-night diners in Breck. It was the right size with the right atmosphere and the right food. Ren walked in and moved in to order beside the two guys at the bar whose heads were not hung over their beer. They were both drunk, wind-burned and fit, dressed in green and navy fleeces, black pants and boots.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ said the tall one, leaning an elbow on the back of his bar stool to turn to her.

  ‘Hi,’ said Ren.

  ‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the personal space of the elderly?’ he said.

  ‘How elderly?’ said Ren, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I’m sixty-two, he’s seventy-two,’ he said, pointing to his short friend.

  ‘What?’ said Ren. ‘No way.’

  They nodded.

  ‘Why are we telling her our age so soon?’ said the short guy.

  ‘We could have been a contender,’ said the tall one. ‘So then, what’s your name?’

  ‘Ren.’

  ‘That’s a very pretty name,’ he said.

  ‘What’s yours?’ said Ren.

  ‘Mauser here,’ he said, shaking her hand.

  ‘Mauser?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes. Mauser. No first name. And this is Little Dick.’

  Ren laughed. ‘You let him away with that?’

  Little Dick gave a shrug.

  ‘You will join us for a glass of red wine,’ said Mauser. He nodded at the barman. ‘Put it on our tab.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not really drinking. I’ll just have water.’

  ‘What?’ said Little Dick. ‘I don’t know if we can let you do that. Can we?’

  ‘It would be a first,’ said Mauser.

  ‘I’ve got an early start,’ said Ren.

  ‘What do you do?’ said Mauser, handing her a glass of wine.

  ‘Oh, OK,’ she said. ‘Thank you. What do I do? Mainly not talk about my job.’

  ‘Little Dick here’s a DDS,’ said Mauser.

  ‘A what?’ said Ren.

  ‘Doesn’t Do Shit,’ said Mauser. He reared back with a crazy, infectious laugh that made Ren laugh even harder. Little Dick gave what was obviously his trademark shrug.

  ‘And what do you do, Mauser?’ said Ren.

  ‘I come from a distinguished line.’

  ‘Of what?’ said Ren.

  ‘Of bullshit.’

  ‘You are so funny,’ said Ren.

  ‘You mean it’s not our bodies you’re interested in?’ said Mauser.

  ‘Not if you keep calling him Little Dick,’ said Ren.

  ‘He’d need to do you three times to give you twelve inches,’ said Mauser.

  Ren laughed loud and hard. ‘You guys …’

  The barman walked their way with a tray.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Ren, ‘what are these?’

  ‘Mind Erasers,’ said the barman, lining up six glasses filled with liquid in a shade of wrong.

  ‘Six,’ said Ren, deadpan. ‘There are three of us.’

  ‘Yeah, but you forget you’ve drunk the first one,’ said Mauser.

  ‘You sure do,’ said Little Dick.

  ‘They got twenty on their tab already,’ said the barman, smiling. ‘It’s like, bam – Will Smith, Men in Black.’

  Mauser smiled. ‘This is what stranger danger is all about.’

  Ren laughed. ‘But I’m really not drinking,’ she said, sliding her two toward her. She sucked each one up through a black straw. ‘Wow.’

  Mauser raised his. Little Dick followed. ‘And we’ll go again, sir,’ said Mauser to the barman.

  ‘Ooh,’ said Ren.

  An hour later, Mauser was leaning in to her. ‘I’m not an advice column here, but this Vincent guy is insane. That’s all I’ll say.’

  ‘Letting a pretty girl like you go,’ said Little Dick.

  ‘Aw, Vincent’s a really good guy –’ said Ren.

  ‘Insane!’ said Mauser.

  ‘Insane!’ said Little Dick.

  ‘I’m the insane one,’ said Ren.

  ‘Really?’ Mauser slapped the bar in front of them and looked at her with dancing eyes. ‘Join the party, sweetheart.’

  And she did, smiling a slow-spreading MindErasersmile.

  10

  Breckenridge was between busy holiday weekends – Martin Luther King Day had just passed and Presidents’ Day was a month away. Kids were back at school. It was seven a.m. and skiers and snowboarders were heading to breakfast early before they hit slopes they were about to find out were quieter than they expected.

  Bob Gage sat in Daylight Donuts spinning the playing card he was given when he placed his order. The ace of spades. He nodded his head to the beat. He was on his second coffee when a waitress walked by with the matching card and stepped back a few paces to his table to lay down her tray. She handed him a plate of bacon, egg, biscuits and gravy. His cellphone started to ring. He mouthed a thank you to her as he answered it.

  ‘Sheriff Gage? It’s Patrick Transom. I’m sorry. I tried to be understanding. I mean, I do understand. But I’ve had time to think about everything and … I want my sister. I need my sister back. I’m not going to wait months for warm weather to …’ His voice caught. ‘I … understand that Search and Rescue doesn’t want to go back up there. But I do. I’m an –’

  ‘Mr Transom, you’re right. It’s not safe up there. A snow assessment’s being done this morning, but –’

  ‘I don’t care if it’s not safe,’ said Patrick. ‘I want to –’

  ‘We cannot let you do that,’ said Bob. ‘It’s a crime scene up there as far as we’re concerned. We can’t let anyone in there. I’m sure you understand that. You probably haven’t slept, and maybe this seems like the only solution right now …’

  ‘If the snow report is good, if the conditions are stable enough, can I go?’

  ‘No. But …’ He paused. ‘OK … if the snow report comes back
good, we’ll head on up there.’ He pushed his plate away from him. ‘I’ll get in touch with Search and Rescue.’

  Gary Dettling pulled up into the small driveway at the Firelight Inn. The street was quiet. He turned off the engine and waited. After five minutes, he texted Ren. He got no reply. He knocked at the door of the inn. The owner was on his way out with a snow shovel.

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Gary. ‘I’m looking for a woman checked in last night, Ren Bryce?’

  ‘Oh, yes … I’m sure she’s gone already.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘About twenty minutes ago.’

  Gary shook his head slowly. ‘Great. Thanks.’

  Ren sat in Bob Gage’s office holding a mug of coffee on her knee. She had started the day with Visine and extra foundation. A notebook lay on the low coffee table beside her and she was twisted in her chair to scribble on it. A night of drinking could take her to instant mental clarity or thick mental fog. Today, she was all-clear. RenBryce OS X. She smiled to herself.

  ‘Hey,’ said Gary, walking in, nodding at Bob and Mike, Gressett and Todd.

  ‘Wasn’t I meant to pick you up?’ he said to Ren.

  ‘Oh. Didn’t you get my text?’ said Ren, pulling out her phone, about to show him the text that she now saw was pending in her Outbox.

  ‘What were you doing, walking?’ said Gary.

  ‘I wanted to blast some cold air through my tiny mind.’

  ‘You didn’t think you were going to get enough up on Quandary?’

  Gary had nearly been a lawyer. Ren was reminded of this with every question-after-question barrage. Gary Dettling couldn’t stand the thought of being made a fool of with lies.

  ‘Yeah and we’re going up up,’ said Bob, putting down the phone. ‘That was Search and Rescue. Patrick Transom called me an hour ago, insisting we go back up to try and retrieve the body. To be honest, I thought the snow assessment wouldn’t be good, so I said we’d give it a go. Turns out there was no snowfall overnight, the winds were less than five miles an hour, so we’re good to go.’

  ‘Can we all go up?’ said Ren.

  ‘Sure,’ said Bob. ‘I know I’m really looking forward to it …’

  Ren gave him a sad smile. ‘You shouldn’t go back up. We can take care of –’

  ‘You know what?’ said Bob. ‘You’re right.’