out at her ever since. She drove up the dusty driveway. Robbie had opened a map of the ranch on his iPad.
‘The ranch is laid out like an actual diagram of the heart,’ said Robbie. ‘We are currently driving up the inferior vena cava.’
‘And what does that do?’ said Ren.
‘It carries de-oxygenated blood from the lower half of the body to the right atrium.’
Ren looked at him. ‘Wow. I wasn’t actually expecting an answer.’
They pulled into the parking lot. Ren looked at the map. The main office of the ranch was a three-thousand-square-foot log cabin tucked into the right ventricle; there were recreational areas in the left atrium, troubled teen residences in the superior vena cava. There were stables, a tack room, a hayloft and maintenance units tucked into the cardiac muscle. Beside that was a school with several classrooms, beside that an indoor basketball court and a separate shower house and toilet block. There was a separate two-story building close by that housed staff. And a three-bed ranch-style home where the Faules lived.
‘It’s kind of a mix of old and new,’ said Ren. ‘OK – let’s go. See if we can make a cardiac arrest …’
Robbie was staring out the window.
You don’t laugh at my jokes any more.
‘Are you OK, Robbie?’ said Ren. ‘I mean, am I OK? Have I done something?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Because if you don’t change that attitude, young man, I’m going to leave you here, let them beat the trouble out of you …’
Robbie smiled.
That’s better … a little better …
They got out of the Jeep. Ren looked around.
‘Can you take some photos of the vehicles parked here?’ she said.
Robbie used his iPad to quickly take a few dozen shots from different angles.
‘Some very nice cars,’ said Ren. ‘Look at this fleet of four …’ Black, sleek, top-of-the-range executive vans. ‘Ferriers of children to rehab. What a strange world we live in.’
They walked through the parking lot.
‘Looks like someone jizzed up the side of that one,’ said Ren, pointing to another black car.
‘How do you just come out with things like that?’ said Robbie.
‘It’s shameful,’ said Ren. ‘I apologize. But it’s a ranch for teens … hormones are rampant.’
‘That doesn’t mean—’
‘Robbie, I’m kidding. Jesus. I don’t think a kid’s been out here jacking off. It doesn’t even look like jizz. Relax.’
They went into the reception of the main building, showed their badges and asked to speak with Kristen Faule.
‘Sure,’ said the girl at the desk, ‘please, take a seat.’
Kristen Faule arrived within ten minutes. She looked to be in her mid-forties, her snowy blonde hair tied back into a plait that reached halfway down her back. The only makeup she wore was to define her eyebrows and darken her lashes.
‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce,’ said Ren, ‘and this is Detective Robbie Truax. We’re from the Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force in Denver. Thank you for seeing us.’
‘My pleasure,’ she said. ‘Come on through to my office. My husband is on his way, he’ll join us there.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ren.
But why are you talking like you’re auditioning for a Disney movie and/or musical? Disney ways. I get it. Janine, I love you.
Ren and Robbie followed Kristen Faule into a large room that was like a combination living space, office and bookstore. It had a beautiful stone fireplace with a yellow ceramic jug of flowers in the hearth. There was a smell of freshly cut wood and oil. Everything looked rugged, rustic, but new.
‘This is a beautiful room,’ said Ren.
‘Thank you,’ said Kristen. ‘We’ve just had it remodeled. I only moved back into it a month ago.’
‘It will age real well,’ said Ren. ‘I love the shelves.’
‘Hand-crafted,’ said Kristen. ‘They’re my favorite feature.’
‘And they must be custom file cabinets,’ said Ren.
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