what?’ said Helen.
‘Billy.’
Helen paused. ‘OK. Tell me what happened.’
‘I was here … I’m in Denver. So was he, he called, we hooked up. We stayed in a hotel.’
‘And how are you feeling this morning?’
‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘I really like him. I have not been able to stop thinking about him since the last time. But there’s something about him I can’t describe. I worry. My stomach gets unsettled. I don’t know if it’s because … I don’t trust him. Or because I’m falling in love with him.’ She slumped back in her chair. ‘It sounds ridiculous, I know. I mean, I’m thirty-six years old.’
‘So … do you think you have a future with him?’
‘What? I don’t know. Do I have to?’
‘I’m just giving you a reality check …’
‘If I look at it logically, no. I mean, is he going to come with me to the work Christmas party? No. Do I bring him home to my mom? No. Do I do anything other than hole up in a hotel room with him for months on end? No.’
‘That’s lots of nos.’
‘I know.’ She glanced at herself in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why do I do this?’
‘Ren? Only you can answer that.’
Ren brought guilt and a massive headache back to the Sheriff’s Office. She drank coffee and water, took Vitamin C and decided ultimately what she needed was some air in her lungs … with a stop-off at Charlie Barger’s house on the way.
Shannon Barger opened the door a fraction. Direct sunlight did nothing for her; she was a forty-five-year-old mess.
‘Hello,’ said Ren. ‘Is your father in?’
Shannon hung from the door in her low-riding track pants with her bare, bony hip out. Her thin auburn hair was tied with a brown elastic band on top of her head. She opened the door wider without saying a word and walked away.
Weirdo.
Ren knocked on Charlie Barger’s door. He took his time to open.
‘Hello, I’m Ren Bryce. You helped me with my altitude sickness.’ She smiled.
‘Oh, yes … you’re with the FBI. Mike Delaney … yes. I remember.’
‘You may be able to help me out. I’m doing some research on a case and I came across your house,’ she said. ‘Actually, I came across the Cheapshot Inn.’ She smiled.
Barger looked slightly bewildered. ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come in, let me make us some coffee.’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
Barger walked ahead of her down the dark hallway, his footsteps silent in sheepskin slippers. Ren’s heels sank into the carpet. She wondered if she was ruining it. But Barger’s wool cardigan and jeans, expensive but worn, reminded her everything in the house was fading.
‘I saw that photo in the Welcome Center, the people standing outside here,’ said Ren. ‘The name is great – cheap shot. That’s what a lot of young people come here for, right? Spend all their money on ski passes, come off the mountains looking for cheap alcohol.’ She smiled.
Barger stood at the kitchen sink, filling the bright red kettle. ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got coffee to give you,’ he said.
‘Well, I’m not a young person, so that’s fine.’
He turned around. ‘I reckon you’re about half my age – which makes you very young to me.’
She laughed. ‘I wanted to ask you about this guy –’ She placed the photo of Mark Wilson on the table.
‘Well, I know who he is. That guy disappeared last year. As a matter of fact, it was only on the news there a little while back.’
‘That’s him,’ said Ren. ‘I wanted to know … he stayed here for the month that he was in Breckenridge.’
He smiled sadly. ‘That’s the thing. I’ve already been through the investigation first time round.’
‘Oh, I’m not investigating it. I’m just taking a look at a few things. I had no idea this place used to be an inn.’
‘Yes. My father was a … generous man. He set this up many years ago. I used to work here on my vacations from college. Then, when he died, it was passed on to me, and when my daughter Shannon got older, she helped take care of it.’
Not very well, obviously.
‘Your father sounds like a good man.’
‘He was. He was. A champion skier, a 10th Mountain veteran, a developer, a humanitarian.’
A hard act to follow.
Ren drove to Main Street and parked across the street from the Gold Pan. She arrived just as Salem Swade was getting up to leave.
‘Hey, Salem,’ said Ren.
‘Hello,’ said Salem.
‘How do you think Misty would feel about me taking her for a little walk?’ said Ren.
Salem glanced down at Misty. ‘It might be how I feel about you taking Misty for a walk. I doubt she’d have much of a problem. Isn’t that right, girl?’
Misty gave him a lazy, loving look. He rubbed her head.
‘OK, then,’ he said to Ren. ‘Where are you going to take her?’
‘Well, how about I drop you off at the Filly. I’ll take her from there and drop her back to you.’
‘You have to take very good care of her. That’s all.’
‘I can promise you that,’ said Ren.
* * *
Ren left Salem at the Brockton Filly. Misty sat on the back seat of the Jeep as Ren drove a short distance down the road. She pulled into a rest-stop and parked. When she opened the back door, Misty threw herself at her.
‘Hey,’ said Ren, ‘you can’t fool me. I know this is not your first time going for a walk.’ She laughed. She secured Misty’s leash and they walked for twenty minutes and back again along a winding cycle path that ran in and out of the trees alongside the highway. Few cars and no people passed them by. They got on well. But Salem was very happy to have Misty back.
As Ren was walking, she thought about Caroline Quaintance, Jean Transom’s friend from the animal shelter. There was something about her
