Harm's Reach

53

Ren and Kohler started down the hallway to Kristen Faule’s office.

‘I did not expect that,’ said Ren.

‘That’s what’s called a curve ball,’ said Kohler.

‘I feel so sorry for him,’ said Ren. ‘Jesus. Howard Coombes is odious.’

‘Kid didn’t stand much of a chance,’ said Kohler.

‘He’s been brainwashed,’ said Ren. ‘It’s like his father is half-cult leader, half-showbiz dad. Have you ever watched American Idol?’

‘My wife watches it,’ said Kohler.

‘I admit I watch it too much,’ said Ren, ‘I admit I love it. Though I am tiring of the same songs being sung over and over again—’

‘That’s what my wife says...’

‘Anyway, if you’ve ever watched it — you know those teenage girls who sing a song and they smile during the whole thing, even though the song is not a happy song? It’s like they’ve never really listened to the lyrics. Most of them have been performing since they were tiny little things, singing songs with adult lyrics that their parents didn’t even want them to understand at that stage, anyway. Their job was just to sing and smile. Well, I think Jesse Coombes was a sing-and-smile kind of kid, smiling and not really understanding the words.’ She paused. ‘Now he does. And maybe he’s going through audience withdrawal. The poor kid is so used to performing that he’s empty without an audience.’

‘That art room was the same kind of thing,’ said Kohler. ‘Put on a happy face. Do you think they take the black away from them?’

‘I do,’ said Ren. ‘That barbecue drawing...’

‘I guess they have to give them creative control,’ said Kohler. He paused. ‘All the same, I’d like to know if that was my kid’s idea of party planning...’

‘Barbecue at our place! You’ll be dying to come! D’oh — coming to die!’

‘Are you buying it all?’ said Kohler. ‘That he didn’t leave the ranch that day...?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘It would be my worst possible nightmare to discover that he’s only realizing the error of his ways now because of some monstrous wake-up call...’

‘In the form of murdering a pregnant woman?’ said Kohler. ‘Well, however much of a screw-up his father is, however much a victim he might be, there’s something about that kid I don’t like.’

‘I’m not sure what vibe I was getting from him,’ said Ren, ‘or if he was struggling too hard not to send out any vibe. Either way, there’s a disturbance in the force...’ She paused. ‘Can you do the talking, the accusing, the fingerpointing with Kristen Faule? I’m done. I’m done.’

‘Are you avoiding saying good cop/bad cop?’ said Kohler.

Ren laughed. ‘This time it’s bad cop/silent cop.’

Kristen Faule looked at Ren and Kohler with a weariness in her eyes to rival Jesse Coombes’.

What is this place doing to everyone? Shouldn’t it be enriching them?

‘Should I be worried about any of that artwork?’ said Kohler.

‘No,’ said Kristen.

‘Was there a reason you chose the art therapy room for our meeting with Jesse Coombes?’ said Kohler.

‘Yes — it’s a comfortable setting for him.’ Her tone was sharp. ‘Was there a painting in particular that bothered you?’

‘I didn’t study them all,’ said Kohler, ‘but the barbecue...’

Kristen shook her head. ‘It’s a scene from a young adult novel. That was the subject last week.’

Kohler asked her about the car, the cover-up, the lying.

‘Hand on my heart,’ said Kristen, ‘I know that Jesse Coombes had nothing to do with what happened to Laura Flynn. I hope you believe me. He is incapable of violence.’

‘We know that Jesse Coombes badly beat a school kid not two years ago,’ said Kohler.

‘I am aware of that,’ said Kristen. ‘I am breaking confidentiality — in his defense — to tell you that he told his counselor all about that, he wrote it on his entry form, explaining that it was a changing moment in his life, a defining moment. It was reactionary, because of his father’s original sex scandal. He came to the ranch and was taught that anger is a perfectly acceptable emotion, but that the key is to channel it into something productive. We were successful to that end, which is how he got into the terrible situation with the fire that morning. He had decided to do some good with his anger, to tidy the cemetery. But when it came to cleaning up after himself, again with the best of intentions, it all went wrong. That was why we “covered” for him. Kenneth and I felt that he had learned a valuable lesson in anger management, and we couldn’t see him punished for what was an accident.’

‘Well, just to inform you,’ said Kohler, ‘that Morgan Greene and Burt Kendall appear to have scammed you. Morgan took a personal journal of Jesse’s and told him to stay quiet about his presence there that morning. Morgan Greene threw on the accelerant. Jesse is innocent.’

‘That’s what I’ve always thought,’ said Kristen. ‘I believe in that boy. I just desperately want him to have a chance in life. I watched that documentary on him before I ever came in contact with him and it just about broke my heart. He was a lost boy even then. And, off the record, I think that Howard Coombes is one of the vilest men I have ever come into contact with. A man who is happy to keep throwing his family to the wolves, over and over, until they are picked clean. It’s disgusting.’

Kristen looked to Ren, her eyes filled with pleading. ‘I’m not a liar... I didn’t want to lie. I was... trying to do the right thing.’

Ren said nothing.

I’m sorry. I’m just tired of people trying to do the right thing and sabotaging my investigation as they do it. I get you, I don’t get you. I’m tired.

Kristen’s office phone rang. Ren could hear the faint voice of the receptionist. ‘Not right now,’ said Kristen. ‘Thank you.’

Ooh. Oh. Now, I’ve got it.

‘Visitors’ day here is Sunday, is that right?’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Kristen. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Why Sunday?’ said Ren.

‘Because families are often free to travel,’ said Kristen. ‘And the kids begin their Monday morning fresh from those visits. They go to bed earlier on Sunday nights, they get that contact, so it’s easier for them.’

‘So does that mean that they’re not allowed phone calls on Sunday nights?’ said Ren.

‘That’s correct,’ said Kristen.

Ren thought about it.

‘Mrs Faule, after everything, after everything you just spoke to us about,’ said Ren, ‘you’re still withholding?’

‘Withholding?’ said Kristen.

Ren leaned forward. ‘Why don’t you hand me that phone you confiscated from Jesse Coombes?’

Ren turned to Kohler. His eyebrow was raised.

Yeah: bad cop/worse cop.

After terse goodbyes, Kohler and Ren left Kristen Faule in her office.

‘So, Jesse Coombes had a phone in the ranch,’ said Kohler. ‘How did you know?’

‘How else would he have been able to hear about his father’s impregnating ways the night before the murder? That was a Sunday,’ said Ren. ‘When Janine and I were here the last time, Kenneth Faule came in and handed her a confiscated phone. He put a sticker on it and wrote what I thought was a number on it — 96226. I was reading it from the reflection of the silver frame on her desk. If you look at 96226 a different way, it reads JESSE. It’s Kenneth Faule’s writing: J like a nine, Es like sixes, Ss like twos. It’s how Jesse took the photos of Conor... I couldn’t see him getting away with sneaking off with a proper photography-class camera.’

‘I’ll drop this into the lab for processing,’ said Kohler. ‘I’ll take care of Morgan Greene, and send Janine your way, so you can check out the cemetery, confirm the kid’s story.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ren.

Ren hovered in the foyer of The Darned Heart, rummaging through her purse for her keys. She could hear footsteps behind her, quickening footsteps. She turned around. Kristen Faule was coming down the hallway toward her. When she reached her, she grabbed Ren’s arm. Hard.

What the fuck?

‘Please,’ said Kristen. ‘I know what I did was wrong, but...’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s just...’

Ren gently pulled her arm away.

‘Agent Bryce, can you please do something for me?’ Her face looked suddenly haunted.

What the— ‘Yes...’ said Ren.

Kristen locked eyes with her. ‘Can you make sure that Derrick Charles doesn’t ever see daylight?’