She picked up a letter from her bank. We are writing to inform you that the following checks were presented for payment and the funds were not available in your account … Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. She would go online and transfer money from another account. Then wonder where she could get the money to fill that gap.
She heard something that made her chest constrict, the sound of something scraping wood. It was coming from the hall closet. She paused in front of it. They had a mouse once. Vincent had taken care of it. She was tired, distracted, suppressing emotion. And without Vincent to talk her off the ledge, she lacked something solid that was more than the sum of her own resources.
She was about to draw her gun. Instead, she reached for the handle and pulled open the door. A ski fell toward her. She weaved right and ducked. It fell past her on to the pale wooden floor. Shit. She stood in front of the closet. She saw the matching ski, a pair of Rollerblades, two squash racquets, boxing gloves and flippers, a basketball, an unopened steamer, three unused rolls of Christmas wrapping paper, a box of greetings cards, a riding helmet. All of them hers. Vincent had paint and tools and timber. Ren had a trail of unfinished business.
45
It was getting dark when Ren got back to the inn. She went in through the front door. A woman wrapped in a towel walked down the hallway toward her. Her husband stood back holding the door to the hot tub open for Ren. She thanked him and went through. A young college guy was sitting in the tub singing opera.
‘Wow,’ said Ren.
‘In a good way?’ he said.
‘How can someone be that tuneless?’ she said, smiling as she walked up the wooden stairs.
‘Is that your room up there?’
She nodded. ‘Yup.’
‘On your own?’
She stopped walking.
‘Oh God, I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said. ‘Just — you must be rich. Having a suite.’
Ren laughed out loud. ‘Um, no. Definitely not.’
‘You must think I’m a freak now.’
‘No, I don’t. You have a nice night.’
‘I will. And sorry again. Don’t worry — I’m not going to, like, come up and, like, stalk you or anything.’
She leaned over the railing to him, ‘Dude? I’d like to see you fucking try.’ She winked.
When she got inside, her smile quickly faded. She walked around, closing all the blinds, switching on lamps, lighting candles. She took a deep breath and called Paul Louderback.
‘Paul? Hi, it’s me. Can you talk?’
‘Sure. Go ahead.’
‘What is this about me being TDY’ed to Glenwood?’
He paused. ‘Yes. I spoke about it with Gary.’
‘What?’ said Ren. ‘You had something to do with this?’
‘We discussed it, yes. I did what I could to get you on the case. And he told me you took care of getting yourself off it.’
‘He said that?’
‘Yes, so … it means I had my chance to assign you to a case I wanted you to head up. But he can override that if it … hasn’t worked out.’
‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘And you think it hasn’t worked out.’
‘No. But I feel that, assigned to Glenwood Springs, you will never be far from the investigation.’
‘But not heading it up. How is that going to look?’
‘To who?’
‘To whoever.’ She let out a breath. ‘I don’t know. It’s just … I’m sensing somebody out there is pulling strings and I’m the little dancing puppet.’
Paul laughed. ‘You? I don’t think so. Anyway, if you were a puppet, you’d have scissors stashed in your jeans. No, actually — you’d be Animal. The one on the drums.’
‘Hmm, which would I prefer — strings or a hand up my butt?’
Paul laughed.
‘But if we were going Sesame Street,’ said Ren, ‘wouldn’t I be Oscar? The one in the trash can.’
‘Aw.’ He laughed.
‘This is actually not funny,’ said Ren. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t go to Glenwood.’
‘And why do you have to?’
‘Well, if you’re not responsible, then I would say … payback.’
‘For what?’ said Paul.
Ren paused. ‘Shenanigans.’
‘Riiight. I won’t ask. But … what did you do?’
‘Behavior unbecoming of an agent. How about that?’
‘OK. But … I will find out.’
‘No. You won’t.’
‘Just for shits and giggles.’
‘Jesus, this really is not funny.’
‘I’m sorry. But that T in TDY does stand for temporary. And, well, someone had to fill in for Jean.’
‘Yeah, maybe someone a little more Glenwood-friendly. And Tiny Gressett-friendly. And Todd, for that matter. They hate me.’
‘Poor baby.’
‘Shut up.’ She shouted.
‘Relax.’
‘Don’t tell me to fucking relax. I’m trying to go along with your lighthearted bullshit because I… like you, but I’m totally freaking out here and you’re just messing with me.’
‘I am taking you seriously, but — ’
‘It’s my career, OK? You’re established, I have to — ’
‘You’re established too. What are you talking about? You’ve been doing this ten years, for Christ’s sake. Why would I get you on to the Transom case if I didn’t think you were competent?’
‘Because … I don’t know. You feel sorry for me?’
‘Don’t be an idiot. And don’t be so paranoid.’
‘Don’t call me paranoid. That’s not fair.’
‘Well, you’re acting that way.’
‘No, I’m not. I’m afraid I’ve fucked up my entire career — ’
‘Well, you haven’t, OK? I’m not hearing big bad Ren Bryce whispers around the office. Around anywhere. You need to get some perspective. A good night’s sleep, a good meal …’
‘Now you sound like my mom.’
‘Me and who?’
‘Just Vincent.’ She let out a breath. ‘I’m just … I can’t face it all. I’m sick of being tired. I’m sick of running around. I’m not sick of the inn. I love it here. And now I have to leave. And I’ll be in a tan motel room.’
‘Ask for a pink one.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Paul. Look, I gotta go.’
‘I’m sorry, two-two-three. I was trying to make you smile.’
‘You usually do. Goodnight.’ She hung up.
Two-two-three; he hasn’t said that in a while.
She lay back on the bed, held the phone over her face and scrolled down to Helen’s number. After a minute staring at it, she hit B for Billy.
Ren’s makeup had worn off, her nose and her eyes were red when the knock came at the door to the outside stairs.
‘Hey,’ said Billy. ‘What’s up? You OK?’ Ren shook her head, said nothing, just went back to where she was lying on the sofa. He sat beside her and guided her head gently on to his lap. He stroked her face until it got wet with tears. She sat up eventually and grabbed a handkerchief from the night stand. She looked at him with sad eyes.
‘What’s up?’ he said.
‘I have to go,’ she said.
‘Where? Now?’
‘No. I’ve been … transferred. To Glenwood.’
‘What? Why?’
Here goes. ‘Resources and funding and … stuff.’
‘The FBI is not short of funds.’
‘It’s not that. Look, to be honest, I don’t know why they’re doing this to me. And I’m not happy.’
‘Well, that explains the tears then …’
Ren tried to smile through them. ‘It’s not just that, Billy …’
‘Oh. This is an opportunity for a nice clean break. I was thinking; I mean, Glenwood’s only an hour and a half away …’
‘I’m sorry … I don’t know what to say.’
‘Did they find out about us?’
Yes. ‘No.’
‘I don’t know if I believe you.’
‘That’s OK. But they don’t know. And even if they did, you’re OK. Nothing’s going to happen to you.’