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.’
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
