fork. She turned it upside down. He put the keys in the ignition and drove up to the gate in the chain-link fence. He looked at Ren with her caramel fork, rolled his eyes and got out to be gate man.
As they drove west on I-70 for the eighty-mile trip to Breckenridge, he finally spoke. ‘Do you want to tell me why I got a call from Paul Louderback asking me to make sure you head up this investigation?’ Paul Louderback was Chief of the Violent Crime Section at Headquarters in DC.
‘That’s what happened?’ said Ren. ‘Are you for real?’
But Gary was almost always for real and he shot her a look to remind her. ‘You sleeping with the guy?’ he said.
‘Jesus – straight to missiles. No,’ said Ren and, more annoyed, ‘No.’
Gary turned and hit her with his lie-detector stare. Ren hit back with open and honest eyes.
‘Hey, the road,’ she said, pointing him ahead.
‘I got it,’ he said. ‘Look, I don’t know if I can spare you.’
‘I don’t know if I want to be spared. But if Paul wants me to, I guess …’
Gary overtook the car in front of him, a small rush of anger in his driving. ‘What’s your connection with Louderback again?’
Ren had loved Paul Louderback from the moment she met him.
‘He was my PT instructor at Quantico,’ she said. ‘And after that, my supervisor.’ And married with two kids. And ten years older than me. And handsome, kind and intelligent. And off limits. On her second day in physical training, Paul Louderback praised her for not giving in easily to a man almost twice her weight. She had almost suffocated for the compliment.
‘Ah. Responsible for your glowing reports?’ said Gary.
‘One of them, yes. And you left out the “much-deserved” part.’
She turned her attention to the passenger window and the cars speeding past. She wanted to count the white ones. Or the green or red ones. Any ones. Her heart was beating a little too fast. She was sure that a personal connection would not affect Paul Louderback’s decision. He was a professional. But even she wasn’t quite sure why he wanted her to head up the investigation.
Her phone beeped – text message. She read it, then put the phone back in her bag.
‘Are we staying in Breck tonight?’ she said.
‘I was going to stay at the condo in Frisco. You’re more than welcome.’
‘Do you mind if I don’t? I’d like to stay in Breck. At the, um … Firelight Inn.’
‘Any particular reason?’
I just got a text from Paul Louderback recommending it. ‘I’d like to be right in Breck. I’ll have no car and if you get called away somewhere, at least that way I can walk to the sheriff’s office if I have to.’
He glanced at her. ‘I’m sure they can arrange a car.’
‘And … I heard the Firelight Inn is a great place to stay.’
Ren didn’t have a type; she had not-my-types – Truax’s category. She also didn’t do search and rescue for what she wanted in a guy. He either had it or he didn’t. She always thought if a man senses what you’re looking for, he will try to find it where it can’t be found. And when he comes up empty, he’ll fake it. Paul Louderback had no need to fake anything. He just had it. Yes, he was married, but once she realized that they could never take it further, she could relax into what they had; no real flirting, just a quiet, comfortable connection.
The exit for Golden flashed past. She thought about Vincent and their little house. She counted silver cars: America’s most popular car color.
Sheriff Bob Gage’s office was a neat, polished space. He had one notebook and one folder on his desk. His computer was on a table beside him. Behind him was a bank of file cabinets with family photos lined up across the top. Four smiling, dancing, sporting girls and boys.
His assistant led Ren and Gary in.
Bob stood up. ‘Hey, Ren,’ he said, giving her a light hug. ‘Gary.’ He shook his hand.
‘You’re back in action fairly quickly,’ said Ren.
‘Not much choice,’ said Bob. ‘Do you all know Tiny Gressett and Todd Austerval?’
‘We’ve met,’ said Gary, shaking their hands. ‘That’s very sad news about Jean.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gressett. ‘Finding it hard to take it all in.’
‘We said goodbye to her like she was just going on vacation,’ said Todd. He paused, then turned to Ren, waiting for an introduction.
‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce with Safe Streets.’
‘Good to meet you,’ said Todd.
‘Ren?’ said Gressett. ‘That mean you can sing?’
Ren smiled. It was awkward. ‘Nothing you’d want to listen to.’
Gressett smiled and a remarkable amount of extra lines showed on his face.
‘I wanted to say I really am very sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances,’ said Ren.
Gressett paused. ‘Well, thank you. Jean was an outstanding agent … and a friend.’
‘I heard she was really something,’ said Ren. ‘I hadn’t met her, I haven’t been with Safe Streets that long –’
‘But she’s one of our best,’ said Gary. ‘Ren will be heading up the investigation here.’
‘Oh,’ said Gressett. ‘Being that you’re familiar with the area and all that.’ He smiled and laughed alone.
‘Nope, just being that I’m familiar with homicide investigation …’ And being patronized by men who aren’t.
‘Well, good for you,’ said Gressett.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ren. Now can we please stop this bullshit?
‘Right, everyone,’ said Bob. ‘Sit down, make yourselves comfortable. Coffee?’
Everyone nodded.
‘Let me run through what we got,’ he said. He placed a head-and-shoulders shot of Jean on the desk. ‘Jean Transom, thirty-nine, single, worked in Glenwood, lived in Rifle, so far last seen by Todd and Gressett here, Friday, January twelfth, five p.m. Body found on Quandary Peak, Tuesday, January twenty-third; possible GSW to the back or chest.’
Ren looked down at the photo.
