Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

‘Well, I’ve got a lot of experience,’ he said.

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Ren saw the beginning or end of at least five raised white scars under his left shirt-sleeve.

‘I know where these kids are coming from,’ he said.

Ren nodded. ‘It’s great that they have this facility, that there’s help out there.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Are you here for work?’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Ren. ‘I’m part of the team investigating the shooting down on Stoney Pass Road.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘That was a terrible tragedy,’ he said. ‘Hard to believe it could happen somewhere like this.’

‘Did you speak with anyone from the Sheriff’s Office?’ said Ren.

He shook his head. ‘No, but I guess Kristen has me on their list and they’ll be coming my way. A lot of my colleagues have spoken to them already.’

He bowed, looked like he was going to tip an invisible hat, and walked away.

Strange young man. And strangely familiar.

Ren arrived back into the Kristen Faule’s office. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried so many times to quit...’

Kristen gave a tight smile.

Ren turned to Robbie. ‘Well, I think we’re about done here, Detective?’

He nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘If you need anything else, do let us know,’ said Kenneth.

‘Oh, we will ,’ said Ren. ‘How many kids are staying here? Can I ask that at least?’

Kenneth and Kristen glanced at each other.

‘Forty-three,’ said Kenneth. It looked like Kristen had no plans to answer the question.

‘Well, thank you both for your time,’ said Ren.

Ren and Robbie walked out to the Jeep.

‘My eyes,’ said Ren. ‘Everything in that room was knitted. It’s like the yarn version of Willy Wonka’s factory.’

‘Chain smoker, Ren...’

‘Yes, I know. I met one of the — very young — counselors out there,’ she said. ‘Definitely a cutter. Scars up his arms... he looked so sad.’

‘Well, they’re probably the best ones to help,’ said Robbie. They got into the Jeep.

‘Or keep you mired in your issues,’ said Ren. ‘I’d like to see hope beaming out from every pore of my counselor. One thing I know is that the Faules are a defensive pair. I am seeing headlines: Faule from Grace .’ She started the engine and drove slowly down the drive.

‘You just want these people to be corrupt,’ said Robbie. ‘You can’t deal with the wholesomeness.’

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Wholesomeness is a huge part of my life. It is what I aspire and fail to live up to daily.’

Robbie snorted.

What is with sweet Robbie suddenly thinking I’m a cynic?

‘OK, are you ready to put your lil-ole-lady charms to work?’ said Ren.

‘Charms...’ said Robbie.

‘Stop that,’ said Ren. ‘I guess the best thing to do is drive through the abbey grounds as far as we can to the cabin of this nun-in-everything-but-name. Actually, here — take my notebook — look to the last few pages. I wrote her name down.’

He flipped through the pages. ‘Delores Ward?’ he said. ‘Cabin Lady?’

‘That’s her,’ said Ren. ‘Best-case scenario for the Faules: a spark from dying embers set off a vehicle fire. Worst-case scenario: a kid took the car for a great escape, needed an alternative ride to get any further, tried to carjack Laura Flynn, failed, killed her, returned to the ranch and destroyed the evidence.’

Robbie knocked on Delores Ward’s door.

‘Solid,’ he said.

‘Important to note...’ said Ren. ‘Door of faux-nun: solid. Check.’

Robbie gave her a patient look.

They could hear the shuffle of feet from inside.

‘Slippers: cozy,’ said Ren.

Delores Ward looked out the small window and they raised their badges. She let them in. The room was all autumn shades of timber, upholstery, fabric, and ornaments. It was neat and tidy. One miniature white fan in the corner was struggling to cool hot air that smelled of damp and wintergreen.

It was hard to know: were the cabin’s dimensions a form of self-denial, or like the drawing tight of a comfort blanket — the world was vast, the abbey imposing; the cabin, just right?

Ren was drawn to the wall covered with dozens of old postcards.

‘How can I help you?’ said Delores.

Let me tear the postcards from your wall! Let me know who wrote to you, Delores Ward. Who did you mean something to, who helped to brighten your little home with four-by-six windows onto the world?

‘We’re here to ask you a few questions about yesterday,’ said Ren. She and Robbie had moved to the long window that overlooked the boundary between the abbey and the ranch.

‘Please take a seat,’ said Delores. ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’

Ren and Robbie sat on the brown sofa underneath the window.

Delores went to the sink and began taking down cups, setting them on a tray. Her movements were slow and almost soundless. She was a woman blessed with good genes. Her skin had barely slackened and any lines she had were concentrated around her eyes. She had short hair in shades of gray, cut as if it were just the practical thing to do, no different to clipping her fingernails.

She poured coffee into two mugs and was about to carry the tray to the table, when Robbie jumped up and did it for her.

‘Thank you,’ she said. She smiled. Robbie drew smiles from people in the same way babies did.

Delores pulled up a stool in front of them.

‘Please, sit here,’ said Ren, standing up.

‘No, no,’ said Delores. ‘I’m fine right here.’

Ren picked up her coffee.

No cookies. And I’m starving. Focus.

‘Now, what can I help you with?’ said Delores.

‘That’s ranch property right through there — at the other side of those trees,’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Delores. ‘There would have been more trees if not for the Hayman fire, ten years back. It thinned out a lot of them.’ She paused. ‘It turns out, this is ranch property too.’

‘I know,’ said Ren, ‘we’re not here about that.’

‘Good!’ said Delores. ‘I’m tired of the whole thing.’

‘Boundary issues are no fun,’ said Ren. ‘But I heard the Faules have been quite understanding.’

Delores raised her eyebrows. ‘They’re playing the long game.’ She paused. ‘They’ve probably put my details into a death clock.’

‘How do you even know what a death clock is?’ said Ren, laughing.

‘Oh, one of the kids from the ranch told me one time,’ said Delores. ‘Sometimes they come to dinner. You never know what they’ll come out with.’

‘We were wondering if you saw anyone hanging around the vehicles over there yesterday around midday?’ said Ren.

‘My eyesight is not what it used to be,’ said Delores, ‘but I know that I heard some voices... male, hard to say what age, though.’

‘Would you have any idea what time that was at?’ said Ren.

‘That could have been anywhere between ten and noon... I went to the chapel then.’

‘Is there anything you could think of that might narrow that timeframe down?’ said Ren. ‘Were you listening to a particular show on the radio, was it before or after you ate your breakfast?’

‘Oh, I have my breakfast at six a.m., sweetheart,’ said Delores.

‘Good for you,’ said Ren.

‘I can’t think of anything in particular that would narrow the time down, no,’ said Delores.

‘Did you take a coffee break?’ said Ren. From what, I don’t know...

‘No,’ said Delores. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.’

‘That’s OK,’ said Ren. ‘Do you see much of the kids from the ranch, apart from when they stop by the abbey?’