Killing Ways

34

It was two days before Ren and Robbie could return to work — two days of the Shooting Incident Review team poring over the scene of the shooting, analyzing the trajectory of the bullets, the results of Kurt Vine’s autopsy, interviewing Ren and Robbie to determine whether or not they followed procedure. The report would come back describing events from the moment they arrived at Kurt Vine’s house to when emergency services arrived at the scene.

The body in the box was that of Amanda Petrie. Whether she had been alive when Ren arrived was impossible to tell, but she had certainly been alive when she was cuffed inside it at the wrists and ankles. The box had been rescued by firefighters before the flames had reached it, preserving the cold facts of the brutality Amanda Petrie had suffered before she died. She had been beaten, raped, and stabbed, then locked away in a box that had been tailor-made to take a captive, a box that appeared to be a much-used, years-old prison.

Ren walked down the hallway into Safe Streets.

‘My girl is back!’ said Everett, coming toward her. He hugged her.

Ren pulled away, grabbing his arm. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you—’

‘Ooh — nice perfume,’ said Everett at the same time. ‘Very nice. Fresh like laundry and—’

Ren was shaking her head. ‘Are you serious? This is not about the perfume. It’s what the perfume is covering up. The shower in the filthy man-gym was broken. I boxed for one hour before I knew that. And the water is cold here. Some fuck-up with the heating.’

Everett rolled his eyes. ‘You’re hardly a sweaty lumberjack.’

She released his arm. ‘Do I not absolutely stink? I won’t go as far as to smell my armpit. I can barely even say the word.’

‘So, seriously — you were taking me aside to tell me about the shower...’

Ren nodded. ‘I didn’t want you to think this was a new direction I was going in.’

‘In your absence, I’ve been going through a list I compiled of all the other freaks who play Hufuki. Three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-seven of them across the country. Forty-nine of them were twelve years old. Can you believe that?’

‘I think the world is too much for me,’ said Ren. I need comfort. I want to hide away.

She left him and went into the bullpen. There were boxes and books and other random objects stacked on top of Everett’s desk. She glanced across the room, where Everett’s laptop was now on a perpendicular desk by the window, facing away from her.

Oh my God. Everett has requested to be moved away from me.

He hates me.

Be cool.

Everett came back from the kitchen with coffee for both of them.

Ren gestured to his new desk. ‘What’s all this?’

‘Gary told me to move.’

‘For good?’ Panic. Panic.

‘I hope not — I won’t be able to see your purty face.’

‘Nor I yours. Farewell, sweet prince.’

Ren went to the kitchen to make coffee. Robbie was sitting at the table drinking hot chocolate.

You’re like a little boy sometimes.

He glanced up at her.

No smile. No warmth.

Shit.

She sat down with her coffee beside him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I really am.’

He still looked livid. ‘That was officially the most terrifying thing I’ve ever gone through.’

‘I know that—’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I really don’t think you do. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t have done what you did if you had a clue what the reality of that situation was.’

‘What? I didn’t—’

‘Ren, I covered your ass in that interview with the Shooting Review team. I watered down some of your actions. And I’m sitting here thinking, was that the right thing to do? Like, was that actually a dangerous thing to do? What if I had thrown caution to the wind too and I had run after you into that burning building, and we were both out in the open? We could have gotten killed. You’re my friend, Ren. If you had gone in there for any longer, or made it back in there the second time, I think I might have gone in after you. I would have taken that risk. And I shouldn’t have to. It was so unpredictable, and you made it more so.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘But... we’re fine. We made it. It’s OK.’

He just looked at her, stood up, shook his head, and walked out.

Gary came in as she was still sitting there.

‘Hi,’ said Gary.

‘Hi,’ said Ren. ‘I was wondering why you moved Everett...’

‘Is it bothering you?’ said Gary.

You and your penetrating gaze. You know it’s fucking bothering me. ‘No — I just thought he fit in so well where he was. I think we work well together. I just don’t get why you moved him. I’d just like to understand the thinking behind it.’ Because I feel like you are testing me, that you’re rearranging the pieces on the board to see how I’ll react. Because I don’t feel like I can handle change right now. And I think you know that. And you’re manipulating it. You’re screwing with me to see if I’ll break.

‘There’s a problem with the wiring at his desk,’ said Gary. ‘There’s an electrician coming in to look at the sockets. I’d rather he was not electrocuted before then.’

Oh. ‘When is the electrician coming?’

Gary’s tone was patient. ‘Next week. Don’t look so traumatized.’

‘I’m not.’ Leave me alone. Are you trying to provoke me? A whole week, though?

‘And at least your buddy, Rodney Viezel, will have his concerns addressed.’

‘No more calls to me!’ said Ren.

Everett knocked on the open door.

‘Can I have a word?’ he said.

‘Go ahead,’ said Gary.

‘So, I’ve been looking into Kurt Vine’s financials,’ said Everett, ‘and eleven months ago, someone wired ten thousand dollars into his bank account, via his website donation facility. I haven’t been able to trace where it came from.’

‘A one-off payment?’ said Gary.

‘Yes,’ said Everett.

‘What’s on this guy’s web pages?’ said Gary.

‘He was a photographer,’ said Everett. ‘Took arty photos of abandoned buildings... including one where a series of rapes happened...’

‘If I wanted an accomplice in my dastardly acts, I think trolling for one in a fucked-up underground gaming site might be a plan,’ said Ren. ‘Or targeting the creator of a website about abandonment and places where women were raped.’

‘Was he being paid up front for services to be delivered at a later date?’ said Gary.

‘My gut is telling me there’s more to this guy,’ said Ren. ‘He was chosen very specifically by the killer to either facilitate or enhance the rape/killing experience. Everett, did Kurt Vine look like a rapist to you?’

Everett opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t get a chance.

‘Until we know more, we don’t know what Vine’s involvement was,’ said Gary.

‘Unknown unknowns?’ said Ren.

Gary did not crack a smile.

‘The key is,’ said Ren, ‘what did Kurt Vine have that his accomplice slash overlord does not?’ She paused. ‘I think it’s more than just a remote property.’ She paused. ‘Oh my God. What if it’s Colin Grabien? He never had any respect for women. He always treated them like shit. And he would happily kill me if he got a chance. Like, I firmly believe that deep down, he hates women. And right up at the surface, he hates me.’

Everett glanced at Gary, his face registering a flicker of a frown at the same time.

What the hell is that look about?

‘It’s not Colin Grabien, Ren,’ said Gary. His voice was flat.

How can you be so sure?

Gary left, and as he was walking out the door, turned back to Ren.

‘Can you please meet me in my office when you’re done?’

‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘No problem.’

Everett looked at her and made a face.

Ren rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a thing we do...’

‘Robbie doesn’t seem very happy with you,’ said Everett.

‘About the shooting?’ said Ren.

‘I presume so.’

‘Did he say something?’

‘No, but he wouldn’t. You know that.’

‘Do you think he said something to Gary?’

‘No, no. Not his style either.’

‘I didn’t mean to freak him out,’ said Ren. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’

Ren knocked on Gary’s door.

‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Take a seat, Ren.’

Ominous.

‘Are you taking your meds?’ he said. His eyes were cold, straight, narrow.

‘What?’ Do not drop eye contact with this man. ‘Are you serious? Yes, I am taking my meds. Of course I am...’

‘And just so we’re real clear here,’ said Gary. ‘I will never ask you that question again.’

Ren nodded. ‘Thank you.’ And thank God.

‘And you’re happy with your answer,’ said Gary. ‘That’s your answer.’

‘Yes! Of course.’ Her heart was beginning to thump. ‘Is this because of my Colin Grabien theory? I was kidding!’ To a degree.

Gary stared at her. ‘You’ve a great imagination, Ren, right?’

Shit. Where’s this going...

‘So,’ said Gary, ‘we’re in this beautiful building, it’s historic, it’s Olde Denver, so it will make this task a little easier. There’s no sign over the door, no sign sign. But I need you to picture one—’

What the...

‘Every time you walk up the steps of this building,’ said Gary, ‘where you work, where you uphold the law, where you uphold my laws, where you honor victims, where you honor your colleagues, where you are responsible for their safety and the safety of others, where you work hard to get justice for victims of violent crimes, I don’t want you to picture Federal Bureau of Investigation spoiling our original late-1800s timber doors. I need you to picture this sign: Last Chance Saloon.’

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘The Last Chance Saloon,’ said Gary, ‘is a dry bar.’ He paused. ‘And it’s an honesty bar.’

Oh, God.

‘And,’ said Gary. ‘I’m done serving mavericks.’

He slid a piece of paper across the desk. Dr Lone, today, 1 p.m.

Ren left the office without saying a word. She walked down the hallway, upright and composed.

How he had the balls to talk to me about honesty bars.

Seriously.

If I was a different person, with the information I have, I could hang him.

In the town square.

Right outside his fucking saloon.