The Drowning Child Read online

  ‘And yesterday?’

  ‘I was here, I slept late. Then I was helping Aunt Shannon behind the bar.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ren. She handed him a card and took the notebook back. ‘If you think of anything …’

  ‘Sure,’ said Seth. ‘I’ll call.’

  Ren walked down the steps of The Crow Bar. She started to check her cell phone. In the light of the screen, she noticed something shining on the ground. She turned on her flashlight, crouched down, and ran the beam across the ground. There were several small shards of ceramics in different colors. She moved the light up to the plant pots on the porch outside the door of the bar. They looked new. There were price tags on some of them.

  Maybe one of the storms blew them over.

  All of them?

  Ren glanced at the time on her phone. It was close to midnight.

  I am wide awake.

  Can’t bear that empty hotel room.

  She went around the back of the bar, the thick mud pulling at her boots as she walked. She inhaled the fresh smell of the water, the grass, the soil. She jammed her hands into her pockets, stared out across the surface.

  God, I love lakes.

  She was drawn to the water’s edge, mesmerized by the rippling water. She walked closer.

  I want to be down there.

  I want to be swallowed up.

  18

  Jimmy Lyle sat in the corner of the Internet café. He was logged in to the site under Rapid01. Seeing the name Lynn96 blinking, ready to chat, accelerated his heart rate every time.

  Rapid01: Hey …

  Lynn96: Wr u bn?

  Rapid01: Sorry. Family stuff

  Lynn96: U stil cmng?

  Rapid01: Y

  Lynn96: $350

  Rapid01: Y

  Lynn96: Y – ready

  Rapid01: Both?

  Lynn96: Y. Saturday 2pm?

  Rapid01: C u then

  The images filled his head. His entire body felt filled. His dick was hard. He was thinking only of the kids, not of Lynn96. Lynn was not to be visualized. Lynn, he figured, was a crack whore, a meth head, a junkie, someone willing to sell four hours with her two kids for $350. He wondered how she came to her price.

  The rules of the café were printed on an A4 sheet stuck to the wall: RESPECT OTHER CUSTOMERS, NO PORN. Jimmy looked around. There were only two other customers, in the furthest corners. He took off his jacket, put it across his lap. He slipped his hand underneath it, unzipped his fly. The guy from behind the counter came out with an antibacterial spray and a cloth. He eyeballed Jimmy as he sprayed down the surface three tables down.

  Jimmy zipped up his jeans, put his hand back on the mouse, clicked a few times, looked interested. His mind was in Lynn’s back garden. The sun was glistening on the pool. The children were standing beside it. He was kneeling by the water, smiling at them.

  The guy from the Internet café had taken out a Sharpie, was writing in a notebook. Jimmy was hit with the smell of the ink. The image of his father replaced the image of the kids and he felt a surge of rage. The surface of the water in his mind was broken not by them, but by his daddy’s powerful, muscular form. The pool was no longer a pretty garden pool in the Miami sun, but the middle school pool with its stench of chlorine and its freezing tiles.

  Every morning at 7 a.m. his daddy did one hundred laps. Jimmy would watch him from the bench, alongside whatever boys or girls were there because they didn’t do as they were told in the previous day’s class.

  When Jimmy’s father was finished, he would rise like a god from the water, walk to where he laid his perfectly folded towel, dry himself off. Sometimes, one of the lady teachers would find a reason to come in, to ask his father a question or to talk to one of the kids, but Jimmy knew they were there to catch sight of his daddy, free now, single again, available.

  Jimmy remembered the pretty little Mexican girl from his class, how she would sit on the bench in her red swimsuit, wrapped in a pretty pink towel with a giant swan printed on the back. He remembered her and how she would shiver, even when she hadn’t been in the water, even when she was dry.

  19

  Ren arrived at Tate PD, gathered the CARD team, and Ruddock, and filled them in on the previous night at The Crow Bar. She avoided eye contact with Gary, but when she gave him a quick glance, she could see fire in his eyes.

  Yes, I was up late … working. While you were up late … banging your side-piece.

  Fight, fight, fight!

  Ruddock was checking the door, checking the clock.

  No sign of Wiley.

  Ren turned to Ruddock. ‘Could there be something going on between Shannon Fuller and John Veir?’

  ‘Could be,’ said Ruddock, ‘but I haven’t heard anything.’

  Wiley walked in, gave a nod, and sat down on the edge of a desk with his arms crossed. He stank of alcohol. His eyes were almost swollen shut, his face bright red. Ruddock struggled to bury his fury.

  Everyone loving their staff today.

  Ren turned to Wiley. ‘We’re talking about Shannon Fuller possibly having an affair with John Veir—’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a possibility,’ said Wiley. The words were scraping his throat as they came out. He coughed into his hand a few times. ‘Pardon me. What makes you think there’s an affair going on?’

  This will not go down well. ‘Shannon’s eyes lit up when I mentioned his name.’

  Wiley snorted.

  Fuck you.

  ‘Her number wasn’t on his cell records,’ said Wiley.

  ‘Maybe they don’t communicate that way,’ said Ren. ‘Maybe they’ve other phones. Or maybe they did have a thing, but it’s over.’

  ‘Do you think it matters to the investigation?’ said Ruddock.

  ‘Well, there are many ways it could if the wrong people found out about it,’ said Ren. ‘Blackmail, revenge … what if they were threatened, refused to cooperate, and, instead, Caleb was snatched? Let’s find out first if anything was happening, go from there.’

  Wiley looked skeptical, and was searching for support in Ruddock’s face.

  Can’t you feel the heat of his anger?

  The group broke up. Ren went to the ladies’ room, then to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway. Paul Louderback was standing with his back to her, talking on his cell phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ Paul was saying into the phone, ‘but I’m with Mom on this. I know.’ He turned to Ren and smiled, half-rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’ll leave you—’ Ren mouthed.

  Paul shook his head and pointed her toward the coffee machine.

  He kept talking into the phone. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I’ve got to go. I know. I love you. And don’t forget – weekend after next … I miss you too. Bye. Bye.’

  ‘How are the girls?’ said Ren.

  Paul shrugged. ‘They’re getting there—’

  Wiley came into the kitchen, nodded, and went to the fridge. He pulled out a Tupperware container and popped the lid. The smell of onions filled the kitchen.

  My faaavorite.

  Ren made an apologetic face at Paul and left.

  At her desk, Ren pulled an artists’ pad from her briefcase. She opened a new page. At the center, she drew a circle and wrote Lake Verny. She drew lines coming out of it, wrote names, drew lines between them.

  Hmm.

  Paul walked over to her with a mug of coffee.

  ‘Seeing that you fled,’ he said, putting it down on the desk beside her.

  ‘Yes – onions. Sorry,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ said Paul. He looked down at the page.

  ‘Check this out,’ said Ren. ‘All roads lead to Lake Verny. There is some serious intertwining between the Veirs and the Fullers: John Veir, corrections officer in the same prison as former inmate, Seth Fuller, who is a nephew of Shannon Fuller, who he sold his bar to, and who lost her son in a drowning accident six weeks ago. Seth Fuller, who was also the man seen paying extra attention to Caleb Veir �
��’ She paused. ‘Also, that sparkle in her eye still …’

  ‘Go on …’ said Paul.

  ‘Then you have a guy – Clyde Brimmer – who drinks there all the time and is fired right after he carries out the autopsy on Aaron Fuller.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And Wiley seems to have a major problem with him – he wrestled him out of here during the press conference.’

  Paul’s eyes widened. ‘You think Wiley …’

  Ren shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You mentioned there was something about Seth Fuller you couldn’t put your finger on,’ said Paul.

  Ren nodded. She turned to him. Her eyes were level with his belt. She got a flashback to the last time Paul Louderback was standing over her. She looked up. They locked eyes.

  Annnd you’re thinking the exact same thing.

  The door opened and they both flinched as Sylvie walked in. She faltered in her stride when she saw them, but quickly recovered.

  Fuuuck.

  Paul Louderback took a step back.

  Idiot.

  ‘So,’ said Sylvie, ‘I spoke with Caleb’s teacher and yes – he had an assignment to bring in an adult in his life with an interesting job to talk to the class, but his turn wasn’t coming up any time soon. He had already mentioned Alice Veir, though, because his teacher had seen her on a news program about wrongful convictions a few weeks ago, and asked Caleb the next day if they were related, because of the last name, and he said he was.’

  ‘I’m sure Alice told me she was going there next month,’ said Ren. ‘Maybe she and Caleb got their wires crossed.’

  ‘I also asked the teacher what kind of boy Caleb is,’ said Sylvie. ‘She said it was her first year teaching him, so she couldn’t speak for what he was like before that. She said he’s a little difficult, but aren’t all twelve-year-old boys? She gets the impression that Caleb feels misunderstood. He has a couple of close friends, but he doesn’t mix well with most of the other boys in the class – apparently, he can be quite withdrawn. When I asked her if he could be drawn to older kids if he wasn’t mixing well with kids his own age, she said she didn’t know of any specifics, but he definitely looks up to the older kids. She also says he always seems a little angry, but that she felt his parents care very much for him. She said they come to all the parent-teacher meetings together, they seem on top of things. Caleb and his mom are very close. The teacher had heard Caleb was kind of sickly as a kid, and Teddy would drop everything to look after him.’

  Munchausen’s. Munchausen’s.

  ‘Sickly in what way?’ said Ren.

  ‘Chest problems,’ said Sylvie. ‘His mother had mentioned he had pneumonia a couple of times when he was younger, but the teacher says he hasn’t been ill since she’s known him. On to Caleb’s two best friends: the united message I got was that Caleb hated his father. They both used that word. Apparently, John Veir was never happy with anything Caleb did. Caleb thought living in the house was like being in a prison or in the army. And he hated being at home with just his dad.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Ren. ‘Any mention of whether things ever got physical?’

  ‘One friend said that Caleb wouldn’t take his hat off for a few weeks after Christmas. The other, however, said he was there when Caleb took it off and that it had been covering a bump. He asked Caleb about it – Caleb told him he fell, which, of course, means nothing.’

  ‘And what about how Caleb got along with his mom?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, this is where it gets interesting,’ said Sylvie, ‘According to both boys, he used to be very close to his mother, but there was a change in recent months. He and his mother were fighting too and they said he could be really rude to her, which they hadn’t seen before. But we have to remember, he’s twelve years old. That’s the kind of age where there’s a shift in the dynamics. He liked his Aunt Alice, but it wasn’t like he talked about her that much. They all knew she’d been on a television show recently, though, and, apparently, he seemed really proud of that.’

  ‘It’s still weird that he called her that morning,’ said Ren.

  ‘What’s even weirder is that I haven’t had any coffee yet,’ said Sylvie. ‘Anyone want any?’

  ‘We just got some – thank you, though,’ said Ren.

  ‘OK,’ said Sylvie. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it.’ She looked from one to the other, and left.

  ‘So,’ said Paul. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Well,’ said Ren, ‘I’d like to talk to Clyde Brimmer … under the radar of Gil Wiley. Fancy a drive?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And under the radar of Ruddock too,’ said Ren. ‘I know this might be a quaint town, but I’m thinking he leans a little too much toward the sunny side of life.’

  ‘How terrible of him,’ said Paul.

  ‘Like, he was talking about bad shit happening “around” Brimmer over the years,’ said Ren, ‘but not at all questioning whether Brimmer could actually have been involved in it.’

  ‘Maybe not out loud,’ said Paul. ‘Or maybe Ruddock just knows the guy and trusts him.’

  ‘Have I turned into one of those suspicious-of-everyone-and-everything people?’ said Ren.

  ‘Turned into?’

  Ren laughed.

  As Paul drove through the town, Ren pointed out the black ribbons on the trees.

  ‘So sad,’ she said.

  ‘At least there are yellow ones on some of them,’ said Paul.

  ‘I didn’t even notice,’ said Ren. ‘All I see is black.’ She smiled.

  Paul squeezed her hand.

  Ooh.

  She turned to him.

  He is so handsome.

  This is a disaster.

  ‘What I didn’t get to finish earlier,’ said Paul, ‘when we were so rudely interrupted by onion fumes – was about the girls.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ren. ‘You said you were working through it. Through what?’

  ‘The divorce.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Uh. Oh.

  Run.

  Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

  Grow up.

  Run.

  20

  Ren picked up her purse from the passenger well of the car, and started searching through it for gum.

  Fuckity fuck. This is a development I could do without.

  ‘I thought,’ said Ren, pulling out a packet of gum, offering him one without looking, ‘that you and Marianne were still—’

  ‘Cinnamon?’ said Paul. ‘No thanks.’

  Ren popped a piece of gum in her mouth. ‘How can you not love that burn?’

  ‘You left last night,’ said Paul. ‘We were cut short earlier … when I was trying to tell you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ren. ‘How are you doing?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s the right thing.’

  As it was the last time.

  ‘It’s a complex situation. I—’

  I don’t want to hear your depressing shit. I’ve got my own depressing shit. And people are dead in mine. ‘Sorry,’ said Ren, ‘I just remembered I have to call someone before now.’

  I can’t believe I just said that. Jesus.

  And now you have to make the call in front of him. Think quickly, bitch.

  As she scrolled through her Contacts, they arrived at Clyde Brimmer’s house.

  Ren looked up at it. ‘It looks like it was blown here by a tornado. I have a feeling it will be rancid.’

  ‘I see your feeling and raise it.’ He got out of the car, leaned into her. ‘Let me do the recce. Sit tight.’

  Ren watched as he went up to the door and knocked on it. He turned around to her with a face of faux terror. She laughed.

  Clyde Brimmer appeared at the door, barefoot and bleary-eyed.

  Ren’s phone beeped with a text. She looked down.

  Joe Lucchesi.

  Something shifted in her chest.

  Oh, no: do not like this man either. You can’t handle damage.

  You fucking are damage.
<
br />   Joe was the ex-NYPD homicide detective who came to Denver to work the Duke Rawlins investigation alongside her. Ren opened his text.

  Hey there …

  Don’t ‘Hey there’ me. It’s adorable. Even without a comma. Men are crap at punctuation.

  She read on.

  … i hope life is treating you well.

  Capitalize your fucking i’s!

  … x

  Her heart surged.

  From one fucking ‘x’. How old am I?

  She thought of the first time she saw Joe, when she was waiting to pick him up at Denver airport. He walked through Arrivals, handsome, muscular, holding his beautiful sleeping daughter in his arms. She felt an instant attraction that vanished because they clashed, but returned when he apologized, and remained, despite him telling her she reminded him of his late wife.

  She remembered the night they had slept in the same bed, and how she had run from it the next morning, because she was with Ben.

  Joe Lucchesi … another man of mine wrapped up in guilt.

  And more …

  Her stomach tightened at the thought; the other memories, the horrifying ones: she and Joe had been the only two there at the harrowing peak of the investigation, when Duke Rawlins announced that he was the father of Grace, that beautiful sleeping daughter: eight years earlier, Duke Rawlins had drugged and raped Joe’s wife, and she had died in childbirth.

  Stop.

  She thought of replying to the text.

  To say what? We’ve seen too much. We are forever altered.

  She thought of Joe’s face, his eyes, his strength.

  He is so sexy. He is kind. He is a wonderful father.

  She thought of his pain, his anger, his tears.

  He is … wildly damaged.

  Run.

  Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

  Run.

  Two for one!

  She glanced up at the house. Clyde Brimmer was taking a while to process whatever Paul was saying to him.

  Are you kidding me, though? Ben. Joe. Paul.

  Emotional.

  Overload.

  Paul turned back to Ren, gave her a thumbs-halfway-up before he disappeared through the front door.

  The place half-stinks?

  Ren went into the house.