Blood Runs Cold. Alex Barclay

       13

      Mike Delaney walked into Bob’s office with two large bottles of water and a giant, battered-looking bottle of Vitamin C tablets. He handed them to Ren.

      ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How you doing?’

      ‘Much better, thank you. Dr Barger confirmed our findings …’

      He smiled.

      ‘Thanks for these,’ said Ren. ‘You’re very kind. Now, what I also need is a list of people who regularly go up Quandary Peak.’

      Bob and Mike shot glances at each other.

      ‘Undersheriff Delaney,’ said Bob, ‘could you call in the three thousand residents and, let me see, five thousand tourons currently spending time in Breckenridge. Rustle up some sandwiches and soup, keep them talky.’

      ‘Tourons?’ said Ren.

      ‘Tourist plus moron,’ said Bob.

      Ren smiled. ‘What I meant,’ she said, ‘was, you know, people who have a reason to be up there –’

      ‘I repeat,’ said Bob, ‘Undersheriff Delaney …’

      Ren laughed. ‘For example, Search and Rescue, Forest Services, the groomers, gondola people …’

      ‘People employed to be up there,’ said Bob. ‘Does it matter? Employed, up there to ski, up there to snowboard, up there for the holy hell of it …’

      ‘Just go with me,’ said Ren. ‘Please. I have to start somewhere and I might as well have a list that doesn’t run into the – as you may have mentioned a few times – thousands.’

      Bob smiled. ‘OK, we’ll put that together, but it’ll still be a long list.’

      ‘That’s fine,’ said Ren. ‘With the kind help of your team, we should be able to get through it quickly enough. And, Bob …? You should move your desk. It’s bad Feng Shui to have your back to the door. Something about being stabbed in the back.’

      Bob smiled.

      ‘Anyway, thanks again,’ said Ren.

      ‘I’ll call if I need any more decorating help,’ said Bob.

      ‘I’ll draw you up some plans …’ said Ren. ‘OK, I’m going to head over to Glenwood. And when I get back, I’ll be just three doors down from you with the other Safe Streeters. Please thank whoever had to vacate that nice office for us.’

      ‘Yeah,’ said Bob. ‘Your desk’s the one facing away from the door.’

      Conoco was Ren’s last landmark when she drove off I-70. She took the next left and swung into the small parking lot of the Glenwood Springs RA. She looked up at the building: three stories, pale yellow brick, normal. No history like the Livestock Exchange Building – not a place to harbor a giant urinal. She walked into the quiet foyer and took the elevator to the third floor. The door was jammed open. She rang the bell and walked in.

      ‘Hello? Agent Gressett? Agent Austerval?’

      ‘Hello,’ she heard back. ‘Be right with you.’

      Tiny Gressett came out with one hand on his belt. ‘Oh … Ren. It’s nice to see you again.’

      ‘You too.’

      They both looked at each other as if they were thinking the same thing; the number of sentences in life that were assigned to bullshit.

      ‘Follow me,’ he said.

      They walked a short hallway into the office.

      Gressett gestured around the room. ‘This is … was Jean’s desk right here.’

      ‘It’s terrible what happened to her, so unfair.’

      ‘What’s fair?’ said Gressett with an explosive snap.

       Jesus Christ.

      ‘What’s fair?’ he said again. ‘Have you any idea? Do you know something none of the rest of us don’t?’