Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

‘You’re being so kind,’ said Robbie. ‘But I still think I’m damned.’

‘You know what they believe at The Darned Heart Ranch?’ said Ren.

Robbie waited.

‘That you can knit a problem away.’

‘What?’ He turned to her.

Ren was miming knitting. ‘You know... idle hands...’

For the first time in months, she heard Robbie’s wonderful laugh.

Ren drove home that night, thinking of the pain Robbie had been trying to hide and how heartbreaking it was that he had been suffering alone.

I hope you’ll be all right, Robbie Truax. You deserve to be.

Her cell phone rang. Yay, Janine!

‘Well,’ said Janine, ‘we got our guys for the Conifer robbery: it was, indeed, Morgan Greene with sidekick, another Kendall’s employee, Reece Gill. I think we also have them for the car at the ranch. Looks like an insurance job, but we can’t prove anything yet. That’s the only explanation I have for Greene and Gill still working for Kendall after he stiffed them back in March: he told them to burn out the car during the ranch job and they’d get their money when his insurance kicked in.’

‘Kendall was a little smarter, to give him his dues,’ said Ren. ‘He bypassed the insurance company hoops by having the Faules cover it. He probably persuaded them that the insurance company would go straight to the theory that one of the kids was responsible for the arson.’ She paused. ‘But the Faules must think someone was capable of this. Why else would they pay out all that money?’

‘That’s a good point,’ said Janine.

‘The Faules must have had proof,’ said Ren. ‘They must have either seen it happen or had proof that someone under their care did it. They know . They’re lying to us.’

‘The key is — are they lying because of something more sinister than just lighting a car on fire?’ said Janine.

‘I mean, if you just shot someone, you’re going to have blood all over you,’ said Ren. ‘You get back into a car, that’s going to have blood all over it.’

‘Exactly.’

‘If we’re going to get to the bottom of it,’ said Ren, ‘it’s Greene, Gill or Kendall who we’re going to have to put the pressure on...’

‘We can leave them stew a little while,’ said Janine. ‘Let them think about what’s in their best interests... I’ve already scared Greene, that he could be tied in to a high-profile homicide.’

‘What if it’s a high-profile resident at the ranch that’s the problem?’ said Ren.

‘You mean our firestarter, Jesse Coombes?’

Ren nodded. ‘No God-fearing petty criminal would want to stir up the wrath of Howard Coombes.’

‘That might explain why Greene went so weird about the whole thing,’ said Janine. ‘Jittery.’

‘Like the Faules.’

‘Greene is definitely sweating,’ said Janine. ‘Oh, and another piece of dramz — Burt Kendall didn’t donate the bus to the abbey. Apparently, an anonymous donor sent him a letter with a cashier’s check and told him to pretend he donated it. It would help the abbey, but it would also guarantee Burt Kendall the exposure in the newspaper and get him some goodwill. Win — win in his eyes. Except he was in so much crap, nothing would get him out of it.’

‘Did you see the letter?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Janine, ‘he got rid of it, but he did say it was postmarked Cheyenne. It arrived in the mail on April 7th, so it was probably sent the day before. I spoke with the bank and the check he received was dated March 31st.’

‘So, basically, whoever was paying for the bus was going to do it anyway, but was helping out Burt Kendall at the same time.’

‘It appears so,’ said Janine.

‘So, can we assume that whoever it was is acquainted with the abbey and with Burt Kendall? Someone local?’

‘Probably,’ said Janine. ‘But does any of this really matter to us? This anonymous donor is not a bad guy on the loose.’

‘Janine Hooks, I am shocked,’ said Ren. ‘It matters, it all matters. It’s Nancy Drew shit. It’s about solving things. Any things. All things.’

‘I’ve been getting it wrong all this time...’ said Janine.

‘Hold on — where was the check from?’ said Ren.

‘Butte, Montana,’ said Janine.

‘That’s where the Prince family is originally from...’ said Ren. ‘Everett’s been filling me in on Robert Prince’s various holdings.’

‘So...’ said Janine.

‘What do you make of that?’ said Ren.

‘An origami swan.’

‘Calming,’ said Ren.

‘Oh, and I spoke with Stateville,’ said Janine. ‘No visit from Laura Flynn to Derrick Charles. She’s not on his visitation list, she hasn’t put in a request to be on it.’

‘Shit,’ said Ren. ‘So... she just chose the Ramada nearby for the holy hell of it? Or could she have been meeting someone there?’

‘Kohler would have said if there was a known link between her and any of the other guests,’ said Janine.

Aaaagh. My instincts are failing me.

Is it the meds?

The following morning, Ren awoke to an email in her personal account that sent a bolt of panic through her. She read it again.

No. Not now. Please. No.

She called her brother, Matt.

‘I feel mean saying this,’ said Ren. ‘Really mean. But I just got an email from Annie. She’s coming home next month. I am about to be homeless.’

‘It’ll be nice for you to see her again?’ said Matt.

‘I know — I’m horrible,’ said Ren.

‘I’m kidding, I’m preying on your guilt,’ said Matt. ‘Shit. That’s a bummer. What are you going to do?’

Probably go off the rails...

‘Bear in mind... moving house, Ren. It’s a possible trigger for you...’

Triggers... the sparks that light the fuse that sends the bipolar person shooting into the atmosphere on a high or spiraling underground into darkness.

Ren leaned toward mania. She knew her triggers. Some were the things that affected everyone, sane or otherwise: stress, moving house, bereavement, the end of a relationship. Then there were triggers common to most bipolar people: travel, sleep-deprivation, tension at work/home, junk food, excess caffeine. Then there were the ones brought on specifically by her job: criminals and the high-energy pursuit thereof.

It was the best job in the world.

Adrenaline, adrenaline, adrenaline, mania.

Stress, stress, stress, mania.

Party on.

‘Are you there?’ said Matt.

Ren sighed. ‘Trigger Watch with Matthew Bryce...’

‘Shut it,’ said Matt. ‘And talk to Batman about these things.’

Dr Leonard Lone sat at his desk, part-framed by two leafy plants, one on each end of the window sill behind him. Outside, the sun was beating down and it seemed to be making him glow.

‘You know, Ren, that triggers are not respecters of medication,’ said Dr Lone. ‘If you can think of them, maybe, as kryptonite.’

Woo-hoo! Superhero stuff!

‘Triggers get through the net,’ said Lone. ‘They know where your weaknesses lie. As long as you know that you’re not invincible by being on meds.’

‘I’m too normal to feel invincible.’ Ren laughed. ‘You can’t feel invincible if all you’re doing is, like, washing the dishes.’

‘Do you wash the dishes a lot?’ said Lone.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘That was a bad example.’

‘Do you feel ordinary on medication?’ said Lone.

‘I know I’m ordinary,’ said Ren. But sometimes I’m Ren Rader! Fearless delusionist!

‘ You’re not ordinary,’ said Lone. ‘Trust me — you’re not someone I would ever file under the word “ordinary”.’