a long street.’
‘Charlie Barger sounds like a thief. The name, I mean. Like a Dickens thief.’
Mike stared at her. ‘Now I think the altitude is really starting to work on your brain. Charlie is a retired doctor. And I can promise you he won’t steal anything …’
Up on Quandary, the charge of the avalanche had been replaced by an unjust calm, like the smile of a man who had gotten away with murder. And the day before, Quandary Peak had, twice-over. The area looked untouched, except for the tree limbs – broken by the force of the slide – that protruded from the snow. The hole that Sonny Bryant had been pulled from was still there; his glove, with a light dusting of snow, lying beside it.
Search and Rescue moved in with probes. Anyone who had cameras took pictures. And the dog handler released her beautiful border collie to track the smell of death.
Charlie Barger lived in a three-story Victorian house, all peeling paint and haunted charm. The garden was an overgrowth on the pretty street – moments away from a council warning. Ren rang the doorbell. A redhead opened the door, dressed in pink thermals with tiny dogs on them. She was wearing frayed imitation Uggs.
‘Hello,’ said Ren.
‘Yeah.’
‘Mike Delaney from the Sheriff’s Office sent me to see Dr Barger. I was up on –’
The woman was staring past her.
‘I’m sorry. Is that OK?’ said Ren.
The woman faked a smile. Her clothes made her look younger than she was. There was something worn about her face, the skin dry and loose.
‘Yeah, come on in.’ She had no interest. ‘He’s out back in his study. It’s past the bathroom on the right.’ She called out: ‘Dad. It’s for you.’
Ren walked into the hallway after her. Her sour air seemed to have tainted the entire place.
Ren knocked on Dr Barger’s door. He opened it and from the grim hallway she was brought into a warm, old-fashioned study, a blend of academia and small-town, personalized medical attention. Leather, mahogany, walls of photos, ethnic artifacts, a thick bunch of laminated conference IDs on lanyards hanging from a nail in the wall. Lying on the floor along one wall were curving stacks of papers and files.
Ren pointed to them. ‘Don’t you worry they’ll fall over?’
Dr Barger turned his drooping eyes to her and smiled. He was in his late sixties, early seventies, with a lined, but healthy face.
‘I know most of what’s in there,’ he said. ‘So you’re Mike’s friend?’
‘Yes,’ said Ren, ‘we’re working together.’
Barger nodded. ‘I’m guessing it’s the body on Quandary.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Mike was worried that, with your headache, you’d end up being another corpse.’
Ren smiled. ‘Probably.’
Barger ran through all the checks and sat back on the edge of his desk. Ren eyed him with panic tugging at her chest. Every time she went to the doctor, she secretly expected him to tell her it was all over, that he had uncovered something terrible.
‘Water, water, water,’ said Barger. ‘No alcohol. No coffee.’
I don’t know which is worse. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘How can you function otherwise? You’re dehydrating yourself. If you were at sea level, there’d be twenty-one per cent oxygen in the air. Up here, it’s eleven. And there’s a lot of tissue fighting for that. Your brain needs the most, so it’s the first thing to go.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘You could end up with the cognition of a small child …’
‘I don’t need oxygen deprivation for that.’ Ren smiled.
Barger smiled back. ‘You can’t fool me.’
‘I can’t do no coffee, though,’ said Ren. ‘That would mess with my brain more.’
‘Then just drink extra water.’
‘OK. Thank you. And thanks for taking the time to see me.’
‘Not a problem. Tell Mike I said hi.’
‘I will …’ She stood up. ‘Um, what do I owe you?’
‘Seventy dollars.’
Ren paused. ‘Oh, OK.’ Thief.
As Ren walked to the front door, Shannon Barger was ahead of her, walking into a room on the right-hand side. Ren couldn’t help glancing in. She saw the muscular back of a man bending to pull on a pair of jeans. Commando. Shannon caught Ren looking as she turned back to close the door. Apparently the only real smile Shannon Barger had to offer was a smug one.
Casey Bonaventure, auburn-haired and full-lipped, stood in front of her cameraman at the base of Quandary Peak. Mike Delaney and Bob Gage stood a few feet away from her.
‘That wardrobe choice must have slayed her this morning.’ Mike’s voice was low in Bob’s ear. ‘Serious, glamorous, outdoors. Crime scene, pretty mountain, viewers …’
Casey was dressed in a green ski jacket and matching pants. She sucked in an icy breath and started.
‘A chill wind has blown through the picturesque resort town of Breckenridge …’
‘Sweet Jesus,’ said Bob quietly.
Casey went on. ‘On the snow-white slopes of Quandary Peak, the discovery of the body of a dead female set in motion a chain of events that ended in a second tragedy when an avalanche claimed the life of a local volunteer rescuer. And a third tragedy when the body of the dead female was swept away in the slide. Sheriff Robert Gage and Undersheriff Mike Delaney, also at the scene, escaped with minor injuries. County Coroner Denis Lasco remains in a stable condition at Summit County Medical Center.
‘In contrast to the sun you see shining here this afternoon, a dark cloud has descended on the quiet community of nearby Breckenridge as they awoke to a terrifying tale of high-altitude horror. Mystery surrounds both the death and the identity of the female, who has been described as “in her thirties or forties”. A source close to the investigation has indicated that this was not a skiing accident, that this woman was the possible victim of a homicide.
‘Law enforcement officers are working tirelessly to develop leads, their task made all the more difficult by the absence of the body. The FBI arrived early this morning, no doubt to offer up additional resources.’ She paused. ‘Let’s hope, for all our sakes, this is one trail that will not run cold. I’m Casey Bonaventure –’
When
