Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

Janine nodded her support.

‘Thank you, both,’ said Robert. ‘I appreciate it. Because the rest of the world is going to think “He still has his millions, what has he got to worry about?” As if you can only be wealthy if you trade your humanity for it.’

‘It’s been a very difficult time for you,’ said Ren.

‘And will continue to be,’ said Robert. ‘At least with the land and the charity, I can do something. I can focus on that. What’s your favorite charity, Agent Bryce, Detective Hooks?’

Oh, no. Please don’t do this to me. I thought you were a killer.

‘I’m serious,’ said Robert. He smiled. ‘Please, allow me to make a small donation. I would never have... I... you saved me.’

I suspected you. I suspected you. I thought you were the controlling sociopath and your beautiful wife was the victim. Jesus Christ. You owe me nothing. I owe you.

‘People will benefit from this,’ said Robert. ‘I know you had to look into me as a suspect. I understand that... if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. It is. It is. It is. ‘We can discuss that later.’

‘OK,’ said Robert. ‘I will hold you to that.’

‘Now, can you tell us about Delores Ward?’ said Ren.

‘Well, back in November, I found a letter from my grandfather to his law firm, requesting that they transfer a tract of land to the woman whose details they had previously been apprised of; those details were not included in the letter I found. I called the law firm, they said that they could not, by law, speak to me, that it was a private matter between this woman and my grandfather. They wouldn’t tell me what their relationship was, nothing. I put a private investigator on the case. He tracked the deeds to Delores Ward of Evergreen Abbey, but said that she had died in childbirth in 1957, a year before the transfer was made. So I knew there was some form of identity theft at play. I called the abbey to ask them what they knew about Delores Ward, and they asked me would I like to speak with her. You can imagine my surprise that Delores Ward was “alive”. Of course, I hung up the phone. The following day, I was on a flight to Denver and I arrived at the abbey asking to meet her.’

‘So, you got to speak with her?’ said Ren.

‘I did,’ said Robert. ‘I heard her whole sorry tale. You know, Evergreen Abbey was the only shelter she had heard of for women. Walter had spoken highly of it, and of his uncle... but then he had hinted that his own time there had come to an abrupt end. Delores wondered was that because of his uncle realizing there was something not quite right with Walter. After all, she grew up in Butte, she had heard the rumors about the Orchard Girls. She chose to go to the abbey, to tell Fr Dan her story. He was a priest — she figured that she could confide in him, and, of course, she was right. But Angelo Marianelli managed to track her down, and she was forced to kill him in self-defense. Once Delores knew that Walter had stooped to this new low of ordering her murder, she returned to Butte one last time and that’s how she got him to sign over the land. She said if anything came of her terrible ordeal, it would be her ability to carry out charitable works.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how ashamed I am of what my grandfather did. But we agreed to make it right in the only way we could at this stage, which was to set up ACORA in honor of my mother and of Virginia Leinster. He looked up at them. ‘Did you see the postcards on Delores Ward’s wall?’

Ren nodded.

‘They’re “from” her family,’ said Robert. ‘The family who died in the fire. Any time she went on one of her trips, she wrote postcards to herself and signed their names.’

The next day, Ren arrived into Safe Streets and threw her bag onto her chair. It missed and landed on the floor. She heard a clatter of plastic.

‘Please let that not be my new compact,’ she said.

Cliff was smiling up at her, but there was something sad in it. ‘Coffee?’ he said.

‘You know I love you,’ said Ren, ‘but you know you favor a weaker format.’

Cliff walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You can make your own. You’re coming with me.’

‘Out?’ said Ren.

‘Well... to the conference room.’

‘Okaaay,’ said Ren. ‘Have you got a stripper lined up for me, balloons, high-school friends I haven’t seen for years?’

They made coffee and went into the conference room and sat down.

Ren pointed to Cliff’s mug. ‘See, I worry when I see a translucent rim around the edge of coffee. I detect weakness.’

Cliff looked down. ‘I could do with some strength.’

‘Hey,’ said Ren. ‘How are you doing?’ You look shattered.

‘Ren, we got some bad news a couple weeks ago,’ said Cliff. ‘Brenda’s cancer is back...’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘ No. But...’ I thought she got the all-clear.

‘I know,’ said Cliff. ‘Nine years... we thought she was out of the woods.’

‘And... what have they said?’ said Ren. How can this be happening to you wonderful people?

‘Aw, sweetheart,’ said Cliff. ‘Don’t you set me off...’

He patted her hand. She grasped his hands across the table.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘How is Brenda holding up? How are you? How are the girls?’

‘The doctors are saying six months,’ said Cliff. ‘We’ve had a little time to bend our brains around it but, to be honest, I can only say this to you... it hasn’t made one bit of difference. I’m a mess.’ He broke down. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ said Ren. ‘It’s me, here.’

‘I’m lying to her,’ said Cliff. ‘I’m telling her I’m fine, we’re going to be fine, and I’m not... and we’re not...’

What can I possibly say to that? ‘If there’s anything you need...’

‘I’m going to take time out,’ said Cliff. ‘I’m going to go back to the Sheriff’s Office in JeffCo. I need to be more available for Brenda and the girls, I need to have a shorter commute.’

‘You’ll be working with Janine,’ said Ren. ‘She’ll keep an eye on you.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m glad to hear that you were able to make arrangements that will hopefully make things a little easier.’ She paused. ‘I’m going to miss you so much. The office won’t be the same. You are such a huge part of why I look forward to coming in in the morning.’

‘Thank you, Renald. You too.’

Ren started to cry. She got up and hugged him. ‘I love you, Clifford James,’ she said. ‘This isn’t right.’

Everything’s changing.

No. No. No.

Trigger.

When Ren got back to her desk, there was an email from Gary to ask the team to gather in the bullpen at two thirty p.m. Ren had re-read the mail several times looking for clues as to subject matter.

To know whether I should feel nervous.

Zero clues. Damn you, Dettling.

Her phone rang. ‘Ren — it’s Gary — can I see you for five minutes before the meeting?’

Noooooooooooooooooo! ‘Sure, no problem.’

At two twenty p.m., Ren sat down in Gary’s office.

Minimalist, mahogany, monument to control.

I have spent less time here in the last five months than I have...

Too much math.

Gary was sitting back in his chair looking unnaturally relaxed.

Almost like he has no words of censure in mind.

‘You know,’ said Gary, ‘this is the first time at the end of a big case that I haven’t almost fired you.’

Do not mention meds.