Alex Barclay - Blood Loss

‘I knew nothing about a connection until afterward. I know as much as you do.’

She nodded. ‘So why were you watching the Merritts’ house?’

Taber stared at her. ‘Uh … I know it sounds dumb, but I wanted to find a way to give back the money Mark Whaley paid me: to get it back to his daughter … ’

WTF? ‘How did you think you were going to do that?’ said Ren. ‘Give money to a little girl and expect that to not be noticed?’

‘No, not just give it to her like that. Just, maybe to leave an anonymous package in the mailbox.’

Ren frowned. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your time.’

Taber Grace sat down at his desk. His heart was pounding. His shirt was soaked in sweat. His hand was shaking as he picked up the phone.

‘Did you get all that?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said the voice at the other end.

‘Then tell me where … tell me where my wife and son are.’

‘Isn’t she your ex-wife?’ said the voice.

‘Screw you,’ said Taber. ‘Screw you.’

Ren walked away from her meeting with Taber Grace in a trance.

I could not have had this all wrong. All this time? I’m trying to clear the name of a man with a thing for teenage girls?

She remembered Matt: ‘I’m concerned your judgment is impaired … that’s what happens.’

Oh my God. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I can’t trust myself. Maybe I can’t trust anything.

Ren went through her conversation with Taber Grace over and over.

Or maybe I just can’t trust Matt .

Then she remembered one thing Taber Grace had said: ‘I was able to access Mark’s computer … and what I found there wasn’t very pleasant. Photos of teens. Lots of them. The same ones your agents are about to find.’

Oh. My. God. He could only have known that we were about to access Mark Whaley’s computer if Nolan Carr had told him. Taber Grace was lying. But why would he lie?

Ren called Cliff.

‘Cliff, it’s Ren. Is there anything you can tell me about Taber Grace?’

Silence.

‘He’s a good guy,’ said Cliff. ‘And he’s an excellent P.I. He’s an IT expert, obviously.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Better than Grabien.’

I love it.

‘I met with him,’ said Ren. ‘He says he was hired by Mark Whaley, because Whaley suspected MeesterBrandt of illegal practices and he wanted to blow the whistle, and to have as much evidence as possible to back that up. Instead, what Taber Grace discovered, apparently, was evidence that Mark Whaley was into teenage girls …’

‘Really?’ said Cliff. ‘Did that ring true to you? We found nothing like that.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘No. Cliff, why was Taber Grace fired?’

‘I don’t know why he was fired, just that he was,’ said Cliff. ‘And I was sad to see him go. Afterwards, I know that his wife tried to kill herself, and that it was really hard on him. Taber Grace’s life took a sad turn. It was like it just drifted away from him. One thing I do know, married or not, he would do absolutely anything for Melissa and Taber Jr.’

‘Like lie in a big way?’ said Ren.

‘If they were in any danger, Ren, you bet your ass. I’d do the same myself, and I wouldn’t lose one night’s sleep over it.’

Ren’s phone rang. It was Glenn Buddy.

‘Meet me at Fuller Park by Humboldt Street and 29th,’ he said. ‘We’ve had a report of an attempted rape.’

‘Shit,’ said Ren. ‘Bad news is I’m forty-five minutes away.’

‘Could you swing by anyway — we’ll probably still be there, we need to talk to as many people there as we can.’

‘Sure,’ said Ren.

Thirty minutes later, Ren pulled in behind Glenn Buddy’s car. She could see him in the driver’s seat. She knocked on the passenger window and he told her to hop in.

‘Turns out,’ said Glenn, ‘that the park is practically empty, because of the last rape. There was barely anyone there to ask questions to.’

‘And what about the victim?’ said Ren.

‘We took her down to the station to try to work with the forensic artist,’ said Glenn.

‘So, my work here is done,’ said Ren.

‘Yup, sorry I didn’t text you, but I figured you were only a few minutes away at that stage.’

‘That’s OK,’ said Ren. ‘Depending on what the victim says, if he fits the bill, we’ll at least have a fourth location — enough to get a decent geographical profile.’

Glenn nodded.

‘You know who to call at the FBI for that,’ said Ren.

‘Yup, thanks,’ said Glenn.

Ren got back in her car and pulled out. She took a right onto 29th Avenue. She started to drive back to the office. Then she thought of Bradley Temple, MD. Then she thought of Gary’s words.

Back off. Until we have proof, back off.

Bradley Temple could have proof.

Casinos. Losing money.

What would I do if I wanted a man with a gambling problem in my pocket? Bring him to Vegas, shower him with money and strippers, then ask for one teeny-tiny favor. Then repeat. For two decades.

Ren drove toward the left-hand turn-off for Steele Street. Gary’s words were there, solid, at the forefront of her mind: ‘I don’t understand. I don’t understand you at all.’

Me neither.

She took the left.

Dr Bradley Temple had a medical practice attached to his home on Steele Street. Ren rang the doorbell — there was no answer. She looked at the sign with the opening hours. It was 5 p.m. She was half an hour too early for his evening clinic.

It’s a sign. Go back to the office. Do not incur the wrath of Gary Dettling.

She was turning to leave when a teenage boy walked up the path toward her, shrugging off his backpack.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Are you looking for the doctor?’

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I see I’m a little early.’

‘You can wait if you like,’ he said.

‘And can I ask who you are?’ said Ren.

‘Cameron, I’m Dr Temple’s son.’

Cameron, the Vegas tearaway, all growed up.

‘I’m Ren.’

‘Let me open the waiting room door,’ he said. He started to unlock the front door. ‘I have to open it from inside the house,’ he said.

It started to snow. Ren pulled up her hood.

‘You can come inside for a minute,’ he said.

‘I can wait here,’ said Ren. ‘It’s fine. Or, I can go to my car. I’m not sure your father would want me in his waiting room if he’s not here.’

‘It’s cool,’ said Cameron. ‘I’ve done it before. You need a security code to get into his office, so …’ He shrugged.

‘OK, thanks,’ said Ren. She walked into the house.

‘I’ll be right back,’ said Cameron.

Ren took out her BlackBerry and checked her email. One had come in from Glenn Buddy with an attachment. She was about to open it, but she was distracted by a door further down the hallway, banging softly. She walked toward it. Her phone started ringing. Glenn.

‘Hey,’ said Ren.

‘Did you get a look at the geo-profile?’ said Glenn.

‘The email just came in,’ said Ren.

‘You’re not going to believe this,’ said Glenn. ‘That Rigg Raskin kid just called me. He found out about the lightning strikes. What happened was this kid in school, in art class, signed all his paintings that way, like a graffiti artist has a tag. So the day of the party, the guy organizing it thought it would be cool to rip off this guy’s tag for the route to the asylum. It really pissed this kid off, he went crazy. So, I don’t know, maybe this artist guy showed up to-’

The door swung back on its hinges beside Ren.