Alex Barclay: Harm's Reach

‘So, on the work front,’ said Dr Lone. ‘You solved the murder of that poor pregnant woman.’

Ren nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And did you engage in any risky behavior while doing that?’ said Lone.

‘I did not,’ said Ren.

‘Good for you,’ said Lone.

Emotions: under control.

‘But one of my best friends — his wife has terminal cancer, which is heartbreaking,’ said Ren. ‘They’re an amazing couple. They’ve been married forever. They’ve got these wonderful children...’

‘Love is a wonderful thing,’ said Lone. There was a hopeful look in his eye.

Silence. Bird song. Cicadas.

‘But she has cancer,’ said Ren. ‘He’s losing her. I’m not sure how wonderful love is.’

Ren was lying in bed beside a sleeping Ben Rader. He had arrived that night. They had gone to Gaffney’s, Everett was there, Janine was there. Everyone was welcoming, everyone partied.

Ren lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her head still swimming a little.

This was the best night I’ve had in I can’t remember. I love this beautiful man lying beside me. And he loves me.

How did I get so lucky?

She took a deep breath.

I should have worked out Ingrid Prince sooner. I could have been sharper.

Ren looked down at Ben and wondered if she could wake up beside him every morning. She hadn’t lived with anyone in almost two years... since Vincent. She didn’t particularly like living alone, but then, if she was living with someone... if she was living with Ben... what if he was a total nightmare?

I like things the way they are. I don’t like change.

Trigger.

But Ben is easy. He’s laid back. Nothing upsets him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him complain.

That’s weird.

He doesn’t get stressed out about anything.

That’s even weirder.

He’s such a brilliant cook.

He tidies up after himself!

He’s so organized.

Oh my God.

I am the nightmare to live with.

He is the one who needs to give all this some serious consideration.

She looked down at him.

Conor Gorman reminded me of you; the darkness, the edge, the magnetism. Maybe loving you blinded me to that. If I didn’t love you, maybe I would have looked closer at him. I wouldn’t have believed he was good, like you are.

Maybe I can’t do this job and love. Maybe love and work are incompatible. That’s depressing. Why am I having sad thoughts? I’m a happy person. My default setting is happy. This was a great night. Do I just believe that goodness is wrong?

She stroked Ben’s face.

I’d keep sleeping if I were you. Things are easier with me when you’re asleep.

She stared at the ceiling a little more, waited for her body to relax, her mind to quiet. An hour passed. Finally, she got up and went into the bathroom.

Ooh... looking good.

I would have worked out Ingrid Prince sooner... if I wasn’t... repressed.

If my thoughts weren’t...

Inhibited.

Reined in.

Ren opened the medicine cabinet and took out her bottle of pills. She shook one onto her palm.

Yes. I feel good.

But not amazing.

Still, though... stable is good.

She leaned on the sink.

And ordinary.

Remember: you can’t associate stability with ‘ordinariness’.

I feel good.

She sucked in a huge breath.

But not amazing.

She looked into the mirror.

I want to see giant pupils and sharper cheekbones. I want to feel hollowness in my lungs. I want my head to feel like it’s a vast hangar waiting to be filled with magical magic things. I want my heart to surge. I want to drink and fuck and laugh all night, every night.

She studied the pill...

Stabilizer, stabilize thyself!

She tipped her hand.

Ha!

The small white pill slid down the plughole.

Ren looked back up at the mirror and smiled.

Come on, Mr Mania, take me back.

Supersize Me.

To Darley Anderson and all the team at the Darley Anderson Literary, TV and Film Agency, thank you so much for everything you do.

To my dear editor, Sarah Hodgson, respect and thanks for your wise words, trusted judgement, and support in ways too numerous to mention.

Thank you to Kate Stephenson for her excellence, positivity and calm.

Many thanks to Kate Elton and to everyone at HarperCollins who makes this happen.

To Rhian McKay, thank you for the copy-editing skills I am tempted to spell ‘skillz’.

To the powerhouse that is Moira Reilly, thank you, thank you, thank you for being a wonderful friend, supporter, and prophet of joy.

A big thank you to the kind and diligent Tony Purdue.

Thank you to the following experts and their generous research assistance — any errors are author-generated. Tell your friends.

A huge thank you goes to Jefferson County cold case detective, Cheryl Moore, for her generous awarding of time, enlightenment, advice, and late-night laughs.

To SSA Phil Niedringhaus, Man Most Likely to Fire Ren Bryce, thank you, as always, for your help and support, and for the seminar on multi-agency critical response.

To Becky Farr Seidel, thank you so much for answering my questions on charitable donations.

For insight into the fascinating science of genetics, thank you to Dr Arthur L. Beaudet, professor and chair of molecular and human genetics at Baylor College of Medicine.

To Thomas J. Ragonetti, thank you for your lawyerly instruction on wills and trusts, for your interest and support, and for introductions to helpful friends.

The revelation of writing this book has been the discovery of a real Pat Prince with astonishing echoes of the fictional one... minus the family skeletons. Pat Prince, you are the original and the best. Your emails are always an inspiration. Thank you for sharing your race car expertise, and thank you for ‘evil manners’.

To Sue Booth-Forbes, you are instrumental in all my tales coming to life. Thank you for the beautiful world of Anam Cara, expertly helmed, selflessly shared.

To Mary-Jane Robinson, gifted ghostwriter and anti-spectre; when you’re around, the room goes warm.

To Arthur Beesley, thank you for taking a machete to the undergrowth of financial shenanigans.

To all the readers who get in touch, and all who come to crime events, it is always a pleasure.

To my amazing family, thank you for being exactly that. Love you all to bittts.

To my wonderful friends — I don’t know how I got so lucky. But I do know I’m eternally grateful.

A defiant thank you to Paul Kelly, deflector of much-deserved thank yous.