Alex Barclay - Blood Runs Cold

Bob gave her a big-deal shrug.

‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘So … why do you think the body was left on Quandary Peak?’

‘Because that’s where she was killed,’ said Bob, deadpan.

‘Jurisdiction-wise, the Sheriff’s Office has got the unincorporated parts of the county. Anything not in the township is yours, right?’ said Ren.

‘Right,’ said Bob. He paused. ‘Aha — you’re saying this could be a killer who just wants me to take charge of the investigation, knowing that the case will never be solved …’

Ren laughed. ‘Shame on you. But you know what I mean about Quandary Peak.’

He shrugged. ‘It might have some significance. Or it might not.’

‘I’d understand if they were going to throw the body down a mine shaft,’ said Ren, ‘it’s a good place to dump a corpse. Not convenient, though. But leaving it just laying there …’

‘We don’t know where that body started out,’ said Bob.

‘Yeah, but it’s not likely it was in a mine,’ said Ren. ‘The killer would have to be some mean weightlifting, skiing, Houdini.’

‘It could have been opportunistic,’ said Bob. ‘Someone’s up there, runs into her, kills her.’

‘If I was hiding out in below freezing, I’d be too numb to pounce on anyone. I don’t know, but I guess I’m imagining a struggle between two people in snowsuits, like inflatable Sumo wrestlers. It wouldn’t be easy.’

‘Not everyone wants easy. And not everyone kills in slim-fitting clothing.’

Ren smiled. ‘And no body, no trace, no prints …’

‘Yup. The lab is not going to be our friend on this one.’

‘But time is,’ said Ren, standing up. ‘Can you get all your guys together?’

‘Sure.’

‘OK. I’ll get Gary, we’ll go talk to them. I’d like them to be very visibly all over town right away. Plagues of locusts. We have agents coming in from all over, but me, Colin, Cliff and Robbie will be working out of here for as long as we need to.’

‘Is that so?’ He smiled.

‘If you’ll have us …’ she said, smiling back. ‘Oh, and if your guys could report back to me directly, that would be great.’

Her cellphone rang. ‘Excuse me for one second,’ she said.

‘Agent Bryce, hello — it’s Patrick Transom here.’

‘Oh, hello, Mr Transom.’ She looked up at Bob and shrugged.

‘I was speaking with Sheriff Gage and I know that Jean’s body hasn’t been found. He said the next step was just to wait. That’s a very hard thing to do. Have you or does the FBI have a different view on that?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ren. ‘Nature isn’t helping any of us on this one. We went up as soon as we could, and that’s all we can do right now.’

‘OK,’ said Patrick. ‘OK. Uh … I was down at the trailhead and I saw you leave early. I didn’t get a chance to go over and talk to you. I was just wondering if there was somewhere important you needed to be …’

What? ‘I’m sorry, I …’

‘Oh,’ said Patrick, ‘just that — were you called away from the scene to, I don’t know, investigate a lead or something?’

Jesus Christ . ‘No, I wasn’t,’ said Ren.

‘OK. Then why — ’

‘My colleagues have given me a full report of their visit to Quandary Peak, Mr Transom. And I have another meeting to attend now, I’m afraid.’

‘Sheriff Gage said that there was no trace evidence found.’

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate the massive disturbance of an avalanche. But despite what …’ you see on television ‘… you might think, very few cases are solved because of trace evidence. It’s usually down to good old-fashioned investigation. And as you know, we have the best resources possible at our disposal.’

‘Yes, that’s true. Well, I’ll let you get to your meeting. Thank you for taking my call.’

‘Any time,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sorry we were unable to recover Jean’s body today, Mr Transom. I really am.’

‘Me, too.’

‘Take care.’ Ren put the phone down. She looked at Bob. ‘Wow. Intense.’

‘“Good old-fashioned investigation”,’ said Bob. ‘I liked that.’

‘Shut up.’

‘What was the “no, I wasn’t” all about?’

‘He spotted me leaving the trailhead early. It was a bit creepy.’

‘That’s not creepy. He was there, you were walking by. It’s not like he’s showing you grainy footage he took of you on his cellphone from your backyard.’

‘That is true,’ said Ren. ‘I just don’t like the feeling of being watched.’

‘Gives you the feebie-jeebies?’

Ren smiled. ‘I just hope he’s not going to be on my back for this. He’s a nice man, but …’

‘Don’t worry about that for now, Ren.’

‘I know, I know. I overthink.’

‘I underthink.’

‘Yin-yang.’

‘Dumb-dumber.’

Mike Delaney walked in to Bob’s office with two large bottles of water and a giant, battered-looking bottle of Vitamin C tablets. He handed them to Ren.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How you doing?’

‘Much better, thank you. Dr Barger confirmed our findings …’

He smiled.

‘Thanks for these,’ said Ren. ‘You’re very kind. Now, what I also need is a list of people who regularly go up Quandary Peak.’

Bob and Mike shot glances at each other.

‘Undersheriff Delaney,’ said Bob, ‘could you call in the three thousand residents and, let me see, five thousand tourons currently spending time in Breckenridge. Rustle up some sandwiches and soup, keep them talky.’

‘Tourons?’ said Ren.

‘Tourist plus moron,’ said Bob.

Ren smiled. ‘What I meant,’ she said, ‘was, you know, people who have a reason to be up there — ’

‘I repeat,’ said Bob, ‘Undersheriff Delaney …’

Ren laughed. ‘For example, Search and Rescue, Forest Services, the groomers, gondola people …’

‘People employed to be up there,’ said Bob. ‘Does it matter? Employed, up there to ski, up there to snowboard, up there for the holy hell of it …’

‘Just go with me,’ said Ren. ‘Please. I have to start somewhere and I might as well have a list that doesn’t run into the — as you may have mentioned a few times — thousands.’

Bob smiled. ‘OK, we’ll put that together, but it’ll still be a long list.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Ren. ‘With the kind help of your team, we should be able to get through it quickly enough. And, Bob …? You should move your desk. It’s bad Feng Shui to have your back to the door. Something about being stabbed in the back.’

Bob smiled.

‘Anyway, thanks again,’ said Ren.

‘I’ll call if I need any more decorating help,’ said Bob.

‘I’ll draw you up some plans …’ said Ren. ‘OK, I’m going to head over to Glenwood. And when I get back, I’ll be just three doors down from you with the other Safe Streeters. Please thank whoever had to vacate that nice office for us.’

‘Yeah,’ said Bob. ‘Your desk’s the one facing away from the door.’

Conoco was Ren’s last landmark when she drove off I-70. She took the next left and swung into the small parking lot of the Glenwood Springs RA. She looked up at the building: three stories, pale yellow brick, normal. No history like the Livestock Exchange Building — not a place to harbor a giant urinal. She walked into the quiet foyer and took the elevator to the third floor. The door was jammed open. She rang the bell and walked in.

‘Hello? Agent Gressett? Agent Austerval?’

‘Hello,’ she heard back. ‘Be right with you.’ Tiny Gressett came out with one hand on his belt. ‘Oh … Ren. It’s nice to see you again.’