get over it,’ said Bob.
‘I think she’s looking for treats,’ said Ren.
‘She’s come to the wrong place,’ said Bob.
‘So,’ said Ren. ‘Fill me in on Salem Swade. I only had a short note on him for the briefing.’
‘Yeah, that was from me. Sorry about that. It’s just we’re used to him here. Basically, he showed up a couple days ago with tales of people up in the woods, wearing masks, some shit like that.’
‘Okaay.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘But, obviously, we can’t ignore the fact he saw Jean’s lesbo-mobile at the Brockton Filly the Monday after she finished up work.’
‘Sheriff Robert Gage, I would expect better from you,’ said Ren.
‘My sister calls it that herself,’ said Bob. ‘Give me a break.’
‘How did Mr Swade know it was Jean’s?’ She paused. ‘Don’t tell me – from the description in the paper.’
Bob smiled. ‘Why, yes.’
‘So, you’re used to him – meaning he shows up with revelations on every case you handle? Or just you’re used to him about the place?’
‘In fairness to Salem, he’s not a crank that way. But he does try to help us with things –’
‘Like, if he reads about them in the paper, for example?’
‘Well, we haven’t issued him with a police radio …’
Ren smiled.
‘… Miss Smarty Pants. And how else do concerned citizens know what the Sheriff’s Office needs?’
‘Pillow talk?’ said Ren.
Bob shook his head slowly. ‘What you’re seeing right now is a look known as “wistful”.’
‘Aw.’
‘Why don’t you come say hi to Mr Swade?’
‘Sure.’
Bob looked at the torn skin across her hand. ‘What happened to you?’
‘Dead people’s insides. Icy patch. Dumb boots. I’m going shopping later.’
‘My wife blames clothes for things too.’
Ren glanced down at him. ‘Does she blame your clothes… for that little problem you’re having?’
Mike was still giving Salem a hard time about identifying people through masks.
‘Damn right,’ Salem continued, nodding at Ren when he walked in. ‘Nothing wrong with these.’ He pointed two index fingers at his eyes.
‘Salem, meet Special Agent Ren Bryce.’
‘Hi, Salem.’ Ren shook his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Hello,’ said Salem, ‘a pleasure to meet you.’ He turned back to Mike. ‘Super vision. That’s what you tell me, buddy.’
‘That’s what I tell you,’ said Mike.
‘And you all are the sheriffs,’ said Salem. ‘You know shit.’ He pointed at Ren. ‘She knows everybody. From Mohammed Ali to teachin’ Bruce Lee how to do karate.’
Ren laughed, then finished for him: ‘I can lead a parade while puttin’ on shades in my Maserati.’
Bob and Mike looked at each other and back at Ren and Salem.
She turned to them. ‘It’s John Prine. Genius. “She Is My Everything”. Go to iTunes. Anyone who can write “Jesus, The Missing Years” …’
‘Got my music here, anyone wants a listen,’ said Salem. He rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a pink iPod Shuffle and clipped it to his coat. He hung the headphones around his neck.
‘Well, fuck me,’ said Mike. ‘Where’d you get your hands on that? Where do you even charge it? You got a laptop in your other pants?’
Salem patted his pockets. ‘Can’t say that I do. The pod is from the kids work at the resort. Good kids. Take it in, charge it, load it, give it back to me at the Gold Pan.’
Bob laughed. ‘Well, why the hell not?’
‘Damn right,’ said Salem. ‘Beats that silence up in my cabin any day. That mountain silence. Sometimes it’s just got the wind to keep it company.’
‘Take a seat, Salem. What do you need to tell us?’
Salem shook off his parka. He was slight and wiry.
‘I hear stuff at night,’ he said, sitting down.
Behind his back, Mike stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Bob glanced up at him.
‘Go on,’ said Ren. ‘What do you hear?’
‘Voices.’
Mike gazed at the ceiling.
‘What kind of voices?’ said Bob.
‘Quiet ones.’
‘Do you have your headphones on when this happens, Salem?’ said Mike.
Salem turned around to him. ‘Now you tell me how I could hear a damn thing with headphones in my ears?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Ren.
‘I saw people with masks on,’ said Salem. ‘Some of them were in funny suits. And I’m not talking aliens,’ he said, turning back to Mike. ‘They were regular people.’
‘What were they doing?’ said Bob.
‘They were walking around, then they headed out, maybe to one of the other cabins.’ He shrugged. ‘It was hard to tell what the point of this was.’
‘What kind of masks?’ said Ren.
‘These kind,’ said Salem, slapping a hand over his mouth.
‘Not Hallowe’en masks,’ said Mike.
‘I told you – no,’ said Salem. ‘But it was dark.’
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘And you came in because you saw the posters up.’
‘Exactly,’ said Salem. ‘If you see something strange … Lord knows what it’s linked into. There’s a lot of links in the background of things, people need to trace.’
‘You’re
