Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

‘And Jesse, you are six years old,’ said the interviewer, ‘would you mind telling the viewers what kind of problems you might seek guidance for...?’

‘ Why , Lord Jesus, I might say, why are sinners so blind to your light? Why, when they can see all around them all that is good, all that you have created, how can they spite you with their adultery, their fornication?’

The interviewer looked almost frozen. She couldn’t ask what she wanted to ask. Instead, she just said, ‘Well, thank you, Jesse, for talking to us.’

Annd thank you for the ratings.

Ren pulled out the earphones.

She did another search and found one of Jesse’s more popular videos: Jesse Coombes, Austin, pink dress girl.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Ren to everyone. ‘Gather round for a flavor of the madness. This is Jesse Coombes at the height of his fame.’

She turned her computer screen to the rest of the office, shifted her seat so she could watch too and hit Play.

In the video, Jesse Coombes was no more than ten years old, dressed in neat navy blue pants, a white shirt and a gold-and-blue striped neck-tie. This time he had a headworn microphone. In the audience stood a girl of a similar age, looking at him adoringly, entranced, doing everything he was asking the crowd to do — clap, cry out, turn to the person beside them. The video cut to the girl at the end, when Jesse was meeting people. Her mother was behind her, pushing her toward him, like she was offering her as a sacrifice. Jesse Coombes’ eyes were glazed.

‘He has fans,’ said Ren. ‘He has mothers wanting to marry off their daughters to him. Mothers who are waiting until he grows up and is old enough to date. Creepsville.’

The comments below the video ran the full length of the spectrum.

‘I was lucky enough to see Jesse Coombes...’

‘Dude, that is some messed-up shit...’

‘Everyone KNOWS you like the flames.’

‘Creeeeepy...’

‘So moving...’

‘His message is true to this day...’

Lunacy is, indeed, in the eye of the beholder.

Gary leaned into the bullpen and called Ren out.

‘OK — what the hell?’ he said. ‘You’re on YouTube, when you should be—’

‘It’s not like I’m watching cat videos,’ said Ren. ‘It’s Laura Flynn. Howard Coombes, the evangelist — his son is staying at The Darned Heart.’

‘So?’ said Gary.

‘There’s something weird about the kid,’ said Ren. ‘I remember hearing a story... oh... now I remember... from a cop at a conference in Austin. It was a late night... I can’t remember the details... or the cop.’

Gary stared at her. ‘Quick... get the AUSA on the line.’

Funny .

‘The Laura Flynn case is not ours,’ said Gary. ‘And you know that no one is going to get near the son of Howard Coombes.’

‘I know that we’re not running the show,’ said Ren. ‘But—’

‘Ren of the “I know, buts”.’

‘I know—’ Stop .

‘You’re too involved,’ said Gary. ‘Focus on the bandits. I want them shut down.’

And I want you to shut the fuck UP. ‘OK,’ said Ren.

‘And don’t forget your appointment next week with—’

Yes, trust me, Gary. Trust me to take care of the appointment... that I had completely forgotten about.

‘I won’t,’ said Ren. She walked back into the bullpen, her blood pressure soaring.

She sat down at her desk and opened the bandits file. She spent two hours with it, stopping only to put in eye drops. She went back to it again for another hour.

Bullet/brain. Hot needles/eyes.

Ren watched the surveillance footage of the Conifer robbery again. And again. Everett brought her coffee and a custard Danish. She wanted to cry. She kept watching the screen.

Bingo.

She stood up from her desk. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’ Ha, Gary!

‘Got what?’ said Cliff.

Ren called Gary. ‘Can you come in here?’ she said.

‘Is it urgent?’

‘Yes.’ Thank you very much.

‘Based on my exhaustive research,’ Ren announced, ‘I can tell you with no small amount of authority that Conifer was not the Shark Bait Bandits. It was a copycat robbery.’

Cliff did one of his signature moves: forearms on the desk, chair wheeled closer.

‘I’m provisionally suggesting the Copier Bandits,’ said Ren. ‘Though, we may never encounter them again... it was probably a one-off.’

‘Go ahead,’ said Gary. He had his hands on his hips.

‘Exhibit A was an admin error on our part,’ said Ren. ‘Some of the Glendale photos on our site were from an old robbery in 2010. The photos had similar titles, so don’t go killing whoever did this. It was an easy mistake to make. And, hey, if they hadn’t made it, I wouldn’t have been so enlightened.

‘So, where you see this guy in the video clearly wearing one of those big green plastic watches, that was not part of our Shark Bait Bandits’ kit. So, whoever did the Conifer robbery got a bum steer when they researched the Shark Bait Bandits. I get why they chose them — their masks almost completely obscure their faces, and they’re easy to find in stores. One small detail, though, is that in the Aurora robbery, they’re the original brand. Our Conifer bandits are wearing knock-offs; they’re a fraction of the price.’

‘So, the Shark Bait Bandits are slightly less desperate for cash...’ said Cliff.

Ren laughed. ‘Exhibit B is that this dude’s belly is fake.’ She pointed to the guy in Conifer standing on the counter holding up the AK-47. ‘Because I’ve had fake, folding baby bumps on my mind recently, I looked back over this. There’s a moment here where the butt of the rifle sticks into his belly and it makes an indentation; a squishy-looking one. Our guy has a pillow up there, or padding of some kind, because he wants to look like our Shark Bait guy, who — you can see in the original videos — has a very real belly, because in one of them, it’s peeping out from under his shirt. Also, when our fake guy jumps down from the counter, you can see the belly fold.

‘My theory,’ said Ren, ‘is that the Conifer robbery was carried out by a couple of locals. Psychologically, they’re choosing their comfort zone because they’re amateurs, but they’re also trying to attach it to an outside gang they hope will never be caught.’

‘So we’re throwing Conifer back to JeffCo,’ said Gary.

‘Yup,’ said Ren.

‘Good work,’ said Gary. ‘Now, all we need to do is catch the real Shark Bait Bandits...’

Silent scream.

Ren called Janine when Gary left. ‘Hey there,’ she said. ‘I’m throwing a case in yo’ face.’

‘Have we moved on to rap?’ said Janine.

‘No, I’m staying country,’ said Ren. ‘But Safe Streets is passing the Conifer robbery back to you. We think it’s a copycat.’

‘Really?’ said Janine.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. She explained the details.

‘Well, done, lady,’ said Janine.

‘Now, gather round,’ said Ren, ‘and I’ll tell you the tale of the evangelist and The Darned Heart...’

Days passed with no new information on bandits, genuine or tribute. The Flynn case hovered, waiting for direction. Ren arrived at Safe Streets on an empty, tight stomach after a poor night’s sleep, filled with scattered, panicked thoughts.

Stand back, people. Do not approach the beast.

‘Good morning, Ren!’ said Everett.

She smiled. OK, that helps. Enforced interaction with kind humans.

‘I can see it,’ he said. ‘The lack-of-caffeine-thousand-yard stare...’