Killing Ways

58

Ren sat in the Jeep outside Dr Lone’s office. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel, her forehead leaning against them.

I can’t go back to work.

I feel weird.

I have to go back to work.

She sucked in a huge breath that felt like it wasn’t enough, that she needed more.

I have to go to work.

I might have a meltdown. No I won’t. I will.

She started the engine and, instead of taking the turn that would take her to Safe Streets, she took the turn to take her home.

She sat at the edge of the stiff sofa in the cramped apartment.

I hate this place.

I need to be at work.

I feel weird. I’m jumping out of my skin. I’m always jumping out of my skin.

She studied the wall for two hours, getting up and down every fifteen minutes.

This is aggravating. Too many pictures. Too many documents and words and faces.

She went into the kitchen and got a cardboard box. She came back into the living room and started to take everything down. She organized them into neat piles on the coffee table, on the sofa, on the floor. The top page on one of the piles had two words: Grace Lucchesi.

You are a beautiful little girl, and, I hope, a one hundred per cent healthy girl. And you’re a heroine to have rescued your damaged father. He’s a good man.

And, hey, aren’t we all damaged?

The doorbell rang, several times. Ren went over to the intercom. She saw Janine’s worried face on the screen.

She picked up. ‘Janine!’

‘Are you OK?’ said Janine. ‘I tried your phone a hundred times.’

Role reversal.

‘Come up,’ said Ren.

Ren stood, almost suspended in the apartment doorway. Janine pushed gently past. ‘Where did you go this afternoon? I covered for you with Gary, but he was not happy.’

She hovered in front of Ren.

‘Are you OK?’ said Janine.

No. I feel a little insane.

Ren shook her head. She started to cry.

Janine moved to her, hugging her, guiding her into the living room. She took the stacks of paper and put them down carefully on the floor. They didn’t speak, Janine just let her cry.

‘What time is it?’ said Ren.

‘Five thirty.’

‘Shit.’

‘Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, beer, wine?’

Ren laughed. ‘Wine, wine, wine.’ She let out a breath. ‘Thank you for coming over.’

‘Of course I was going to come over,’ said Janine. ‘What’s up?’

‘Ugh... I... spent the night with Joe Lucchesi.’

‘What?’

Ren nodded. ‘I know. We went out, we got hammered, I went back to his room. We... didn’t have sex. But... you know, I woke up in his bed.’

‘Oh...’ She paused. ‘Are you sure nothing happened?’

‘Oh my God — totally. He told me. And I remembered... eventually. He was really nice. He’s a really nice guy.’

Janine’s eyes widened.

‘He’s screwed-up, though,’ said Ren. ‘Duke Rawlins screwed him up bad.’

‘I’m not surprised...’

‘At either,’ said Ren.

‘Well...’

‘I know you’ve tried to save me from this kind of shit before,’ said Ren.

‘That’s not the point, though. I just don’t want you to end up like this.’

Tears welled in Ren’s eyes. ‘I know. I love you for that.’

‘Are you going to tell Ben?’

Ren shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Should I? It was a mistake. I don’t want to throw away everything we have because of drunken bullshit.’

The tears started to fall.

‘We need tea immediately.’ Janine stood up.

I want to be like you, Janine Hooks. You’re sane. You’re reliable. You’re wonderful. You do not screw up. I am a perpetual disappointment.

Janine paused. ‘You took down your Wall of Horrors, I now realize.’

It was freaking me out.

Ren curled into the sofa, watching the peaceful wall.

This has helped.

Janine came back in with a tray of tea and biscuits.

‘And the whole world was set to rights,’ said Janine.

I just love you.

I feel so guilty. I can’t even tell you the crazy thoughts I had about your poor friend, Terri. And what Duke Rawlins might have done to you. There’s crazy and there’s crazy: the scary, genuine, can’t-even-make-a-joke-about-it kind.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Ren. ‘I just remembered what I did last night. When Joe went to the bathroom... I got Camille’s number from his phone — the nanny.’ Ren checked her Contacts. ‘Look!’

‘Why?’ said Janine.

‘I was so worried,’ said Ren. ‘Worried that his family’s not safe. It was for reassurance. I have it, in case I need it. But I couldn’t ask Joe for it because he’d think I was nuts.’

Janine’s look told her she agreed. ‘Now,’ said Janine, ‘To take us away from all things drunken and personal, why don’t we talk about the case?’

‘That,’ said Ren, ‘would be perfect.’

Her phone rang. Joe Lucchesi.

‘It’s him!’ said Ren.

‘Answer it!’ said Janine.

‘I feel about fourteen!’ Ren picked up.

‘Hey,’ said Joe.

‘Hello, there.’

‘I’m calling with some very good news,’ said Joe. ‘Grace and I were at the doctor this afternoon, and she’s all good. Test results were clear. She is fighting fit.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ said Ren. ‘Thank God. That’s wonderful to hear.’

‘It is, it is,’ said Joe. ‘And I wanted to say thank you for last night, I had fun, it was what I needed. The hangover this morning — not so much.’

‘Oh, I know that feeling,’ said Ren. ‘And thank you too. It was hilarious.’

‘I won’t see you tomorrow at the office — it’s Shaun’s graduation.’

‘What are you doing after?’ Which sounds like a come-on.

Janine was rolling her eyes in agreement.

‘Shaun’s got a wild night planned,’ said Joe. ‘I’m going to go ahead up to Breck — we’ve got two nights there — he’ll follow me up the next day if his head is still working.’

‘Be careful out there,’ said Ren.

‘I’m always careful.’

You’re so serious.

Bomb explodes in auditorium. Jesus, Worst-Case Scenario again.

‘I think we’re all safe at a graduation,’ said Joe. ‘We’re lucky Duke Rawlins doesn’t like the grand public gestures.’

Yet.

Monster... mutating.

Stop.

‘Have fun,’ said Ren. ‘Tell Shaun I said congratulations.’

‘I will. See you in a couple of days.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ said Ren.

Janine looked at her when she hung up. ‘Looking forward to what?’

‘Nothing,’ said Ren, ‘it’s just an expression. Seeing him in work — that’s all.’

‘Back to the case,’ said Janine.

‘I can’t get the Kurt Vine thing out of my head,’ said Ren. ‘The real connection. And it’s still freaking me out that Joe hasn’t made Grace safe.’

‘How do you know that?’ said Janine.

‘Well, he didn’t say he was going to Breck alone...’

‘Probably because it would have sounded like he was inviting you.’

‘True...’ Ren sighed. ‘It’s all rather exhausting.’

‘Let’s check out Vine’s website,’ said Ren. ‘If that was his first point of contact with Duke Rawlins — if that’s how Rawlins found him, I’d like to know what it was that drew him in.’

They opened up ForTheForgotten.net.

They scrolled through the images.

‘He wasn’t a bad photographer...’ said Janine.

‘Oh,’ said Ren, pointing to the screen. ‘These ones were in the Denver Post after that retrospective series on asylums. And then... the rapes happened. It’s Kennington — that was the building Everett was talking about.’

Ren could feel Janine tense beside her. They both knew that the Kennington rapist, now in prison, had attempted to rape Ren. Janine simply squeezed Ren’s forearm, and stuck with the task at hand.

God bless you.

‘And look at all the eerie woodland shots,’ said Janine.

‘This kind of shit fascinates me too, though,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m still going to decide he’s a psycho and I’m not.’

‘Look at this place — the Ostler Building — it’s an old toy factory,’ said Janine, pointing. ‘“Creepsville” as you would say.’

‘Don’t touch my screen,’ said Ren.

‘Sorry,’ said Janine.

‘Where is this place?’ said Ren. ‘Oh... it’s in RiNo by the railroad, near my filthy man-gym. Yikes. I think you can see that from Safe Streets. I always thought that part was just a chimney.’

‘These external shots are old, though,’ said Janine. ‘They’re vintage. Sixties looking.’

‘Yes, because I think we may have noticed if there was a giant cut-out doll’s head towering over RiNo. Vine must have found the building, bought the vintage shots of it online somewhere. Or found the photos, then tracked down the building. I mean, you can’t get more abandoned than that.’

‘And yes,’ said Janine, ‘look at the inside — there’s the head propped up against the wall.’

‘Jesus — a flat, timber doll’s head,’ said Ren, ‘beside a plastic bucket filled with regular dolls’ heads... terror overload.’

‘Why are dolls heads so sinister?’ said Janine.

‘Because they rotate three-sixty, their dead eyes blink twice, and, at night, they push nightmares — via your tear ducts — into the back of your eyeballs.’

‘Did someone actually tell you that?’

‘My brother, Jay,’ said Ren. ‘No wonder I’m screwed up. And he said they block up your tear ducts so you can’t cry, so no one can hear you cry.’ She looked at Janine. ‘I think you need to stay over tonight...’