Blood Loss

47

Ren’s heart was pounding. An ex-member of Safe Streets — whom she had never even heard of — had the crap kicked out of him for loitering outside the house of an eleven-year-old girl who was the victim in a Safe Streets abduction investigation.

Ren took a deep breath.

Who the hell do I ask about this?

She looked around the office at everyone. None of them had ever mentioned a man called Taber Grace. There must be a reason for that. And asking about him, without being armed with a little more information, was not a wise move.

Ren walked down the hallway into one of the conference rooms. She called Paul Louderback.

‘I believe you are back in Denver,’ said Ren.

‘I am,’ he said.

‘A couple of things have come up in the Mark Whaley case,’ said Ren. ‘Are you free to meet up?’

‘I’m intrigued.’

‘How about Gaffney’s? Just to be original.’

‘Isn’t there anywhere else you go?’

She could hear him smiling.

‘The champagne bar on Larimer Street,’ said Ren, ‘but I’m trying to watch your wallet. Gaffney’s is all about the wings, and the jalapeno poppers. I’ve been obsessing about them all morning.’

‘What time is it now?’ said Paul.

‘Two o’clock,’ said Ren.

‘Can we say seven?’ said Paul.

‘Perfect,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘This is between us, OK?’

‘Of course,’ said Paul.

Why break a seventeen-year tradition?

Colin let out a whistle from his desk.

‘That Sylvie Ross is hot,’ he said. He turned his screen toward Cliff, and a little toward Ren. It was on a charity website. Sylvie Ross was in shorts and a tank, smiling at the finish line of a race, holding up a medal.

‘The forensic child lady?’ said Cliff.

‘Paul Louderback’s little protegee,’ said Colin.

The what now?

‘She was not hot,’ said Robbie.

‘Her shoes were terrible,’ said Ren.

‘I noticed the shoes too,’ said Cliff. ‘That’s what you’ve done to me, Ren. That was not a well-designed shoe.’

Could I love you any more?

Don’t ask. Be cool. ‘What do you mean Paul Louderback’s protegee?’ said Ren.

‘One of his ladies. He gets off on it. They follow him around like little puppies,’ said Colin. ‘I don’t get it. Do you, Ren?’ He gave her a shit-eating grin. ‘Do you like Paul Louderback’s shoes?’

Does that even the score, you piece of shit? And while I’m at it — Paul Louderback, you’re a piece of shit too.

Gaffney’s was uncharacteristically quiet. Paul Louderback was at a table facing her, wearing a blue flannel shirt.

Very old-school … for a multi-protegee-timer.

Beside him were two gorgeous young girls.

Uh-oh. Not ready for this.

‘Hey, there,’ said Paul, standing up. ‘Girls, this is Special Agent Ren Bryce, we’re working together in Denver. And Ren, these are my girls, Emma, and Lucy.’

‘Hello, there,’ said Ren. ‘How are you doing?’

They smiled politely. ‘Nice to meet you.’ They both shook her hand. Adorable.

Emma was twelve years old, tall and thin, dressed in skinny jeans and a sweater, with long auburn hair in a ponytail. She had a perfect white smile, and the same sharp cheekbones as her father. Lucy was eight years old, and had blonde curly hair, a cute little face, and bright blue eyes.

‘Would you care to join us?’ said Paul.

Ren smiled. ‘If it’s OK …’ A warning might have been nice.

‘The girls’ nanny was held up,’ said Paul. ‘We’re just finishing up. And the girls like the idea of getting rid of their father and having a table to themselves …’

‘No, we don’t,’ said Lucy, but she was smiling at Emma.

‘They have things to discuss, apparently,’ said Paul.

‘And we don’t have a nanny,’ said Lucy. ‘We’re not babies.’

‘What is she, then?’ said Paul, smiling.

‘Our entourage,’ said Lucy, laughing.

‘She got you there,’ said Ren.

Lucy turned to Ren. ‘You can stay if you like.’

‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you, Lucy.’

Emma moved closer to her father to make room for Ren. Her eyes were slightly narrower than Lucy’s …

‘Would you like some fries?’ said Lucy.

‘Thank you,’ said Ren, grabbing one.

They talked about all the things the girls had done in Denver, and what they liked to do at home, and who their friends were. Lucy was the more outgoing, performing every story she told.

The girls went to a table of their own for dessert — two tables away. They started taking pictures of each other on their cell phones.

‘I think they like their independence,’ said Paul.

‘I think they like their dad,’ said Ren. ‘They might even adore him.’

‘Oh, I don’t know …’

‘I wanted to ask would Sylvie Ross talk to Laurie Whaley for us?’ She waited for a reaction.

He frowned. ‘Yes … why?’

Ren filled him in.

‘Sure,’ said Paul, ‘I can’t see that being a problem.’

The door of Gaffney’s opened and a cold breeze shot through.

‘Ah,’ said Paul. He smiled. ‘Gary.’

Ren turned around. Gary walked over to the table. Ben Rader appeared behind him.

And for the second time that night, Ren heard Paul Louderback say, ‘Would you care to join us?’

You have got to be kidding me.

Ren had no time to talk to Paul Louderback and find out if he had ever worked with or trained an agent called Taber Grace. She had time, however, to sit through one of the most excruciating gatherings of her lifetime, second only to attending a charity dinner with the parents of her high-school boyfriend … an hour after they had walked in on their beloved son and his girlfriend in their newly installed en-suite shower.

Ren zoned back in on the conversation. There was great news — Paul Louderback was leaving to take the girls back to the hotel. Next to go was Ben, who had tried desperately to hold eye contact with Ren.

Ben to the left of me. Paul to the right. Here I am …

Ren spent half an hour more with Gary, talking about all the developments, and what they could mean. He slid his chair back, about to announce his departure.

‘Wait,’ said Ren. ‘Sorry, but … I have to ask you something.’

‘Sure,’ said Gary. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Who is Taber Grace?’

Gary’s poker face performed as expected. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because he was the man in the black sedan watching Laurie Whaley … until he got the crap kicked out of him.’

The poker face was struggling.

‘What is it?’ said Ren. ‘Who is this guy?’

‘Taber Grace originally had Colin Grabien’s job,’ said Gary. ‘For the first three months of Safe Streets. And then he fucked up.’

End of story.

WTF? ‘In what way?’ said Ren.

‘He had lied on his application,’ said Gary.

‘What do you mean “lied”?’ said Ren.

‘He wasn’t entirely honest about his past.’

‘Was it something serious?’ said Ren.

‘That he lied?’ said Gary. ‘Yes, Ren. That happens to be serious.’

Dig. Dig.

‘But you hired him,’ said Ren. ‘He was here for three months …’

‘It only came to light after three months,’ said Gary.

‘How?’ said Ren.

‘This is old ground,’ said Gary.

But I am dying to know what this guy did.

All eyes had been on Gary when he was setting up Safe Streets. Multi-agency task forces were new, and it took him a long time to convince everyone it would work.

And in the first three months of the task force, something had failed. Taber Grace had failed. Therefore, Gary Dettling had failed. And Gary Dettling had zero tolerance for failure. Even his own.

‘Just — you’re very thorough …’ said Ren. ‘I’m surprised anything slipped through the net.’

Silence.

‘Why do you think he was watching Laurie Whaley?’ said Ren. ‘This isn’t some elaborate revenge thing is it? I mean, could he be trying to get back at Safe Streets or something?’

‘This is not a movie, Ren,’ said Gary.

‘But … it’s all so weird,’ said Ren. ‘Why would-’

‘I have no idea,’ said Gary. ‘And it’s Denver PD’s responsibility.’

‘But — the Merritts … that’s our-’

‘Taber Grace is not my concern,’ said Gary. ‘And he’s certainly not yours.’