Alex Barclay - The Drowning Child

‘Sickly in what way?’ said Ren.

‘Chest problems,’ said Sylvie. ‘His mother had mentioned he had pneumonia a couple of times when he was younger, but the teacher says he hasn’t been ill since she’s known him. On to Caleb’s two best friends: the united message I got was that Caleb hated his father. They both used that word. Apparently, John Veir was never happy with anything Caleb did. Caleb thought living in the house was like being in a prison or in the army. And he hated being at home with just his dad.’

‘Jesus,’ said Ren. ‘Any mention of whether things ever got physical?’

‘One friend said that Caleb wouldn’t take his hat off for a few weeks after Christmas. The other, however, said he was there when Caleb took it off and that it had been covering a bump. He asked Caleb about it – Caleb told him he fell, which, of course, means nothing.’

‘And what about how Caleb got along with his mom?’ said Ren.

‘Well, this is where it gets interesting,’ said Sylvie, ‘According to both boys, he used to be very close to his mother, but there was a change in recent months. He and his mother were fighting too and they said he could be really rude to her, which they hadn’t seen before. But we have to remember, he’s twelve years old. That’s the kind of age where there’s a shift in the dynamics. He liked his Aunt Alice, but it wasn’t like he talked about her that much. They all knew she’d been on a television show recently, though, and, apparently, he seemed really proud of that.’

‘It’s still weird that he called her that morning,’ said Ren.

‘What’s even weirder is that I haven’t had any coffee yet,’ said Sylvie. ‘Anyone want any?’

‘We just got some – thank you, though,’ said Ren.

‘OK,’ said Sylvie. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it.’ She looked from one to the other, and left.

‘So,’ said Paul. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Well,’ said Ren, ‘I’d like to talk to Clyde Brimmer... under the radar of Gil Wiley. Fancy a drive?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And under the radar of Ruddock too,’ said Ren. ‘I know this might be a quaint town, but I’m thinking he leans a little too much toward the sunny side of life.’

‘How terrible of him,’ said Paul.

‘Like, he was talking about bad shit happening “around” Brimmer over the years,’ said Ren, ‘but not at all questioning whether Brimmer could actually have been involved in it.’

‘Maybe not out loud,’ said Paul. ‘Or maybe Ruddock just knows the guy and trusts him.’

‘Have I turned into one of those suspicious-of-everyone-and-everything people?’ said Ren.

‘Turned into?’

Ren laughed.

As Paul drove through the town, Ren pointed out the black ribbons on the trees.

‘So sad,’ she said.

‘At least there are yellow ones on some of them,’ said Paul.

‘I didn’t even notice,’ said Ren. ‘All I see is black.’ She smiled.

Paul squeezed her hand.

Ooh.

She turned to him.

He is so handsome.

This is a disaster.

‘What I didn’t get to finish earlier,’ said Paul, ‘when we were so rudely interrupted by onion fumes – was about the girls.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ren. ‘You said you were working through it. Through what?’

‘The divorce.’

‘Oh.’

Uh. Oh.

Run.

Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

Grow up.

Run.

Ren picked up her purse from the passenger well of the car, and started searching through it for gum.

Fuckity fuck. This is a development I could do without.

‘I thought,’ said Ren, pulling out a packet of gum, offering him one without looking, ‘that you and Marianne were still—’

‘Cinnamon?’ said Paul. ‘No thanks.’

Ren popped a piece of gum in her mouth. ‘How can you not love that burn?’

‘You left last night,’ said Paul. ‘We were cut short earlier... when I was trying to tell you.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ren. ‘How are you doing?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s the right thing.’

As it was the last time.

‘It’s a complex situation. I—’

I don’t want to hear your depressing shit. I’ve got my own depressing shit. And people are dead in mine. ‘Sorry,’ said Ren, ‘I just remembered I have to call someone before now.’

I can’t believe I just said that. Jesus.

And now you have to make the call in front of him. Think quickly, bitch.

As she scrolled through her Contacts, they arrived at Clyde Brimmer’s house.

Ren looked up at it. ‘It looks like it was blown here by a tornado. I have a feeling it will be rancid.’

‘I see your feeling and raise it.’ He got out of the car, leaned into her. ‘Let me do the recce. Sit tight.’

Ren watched as he went up to the door and knocked on it. He turned around to her with a face of faux terror. She laughed.

Clyde Brimmer appeared at the door, barefoot and bleary-eyed.

Ren’s phone beeped with a text. She looked down.

Joe Lucchesi.

Something shifted in her chest.

Oh, no: do not like this man either. You can’t handle damage.

You fucking are damage.

Joe was the ex-NYPD homicide detective who came to Denver to work the Duke Rawlins investigation alongside her. Ren opened his text.

Hey there...

Don’t ‘Hey there’ me. It’s adorable. Even without a comma. Men are crap at punctuation.

She read on.

… i hope life is treating you well.

Capitalize your fucking i’s!

… x

Her heart surged.

From one fucking ‘x’. How old am I?

She thought of the first time she saw Joe, when she was waiting to pick him up at Denver airport. He walked through Arrivals, handsome, muscular, holding his beautiful sleeping daughter in his arms. She felt an instant attraction that vanished because they clashed, but returned when he apologized, and remained, despite him telling her she reminded him of his late wife.

She remembered the night they had slept in the same bed, and how she had run from it the next morning, because she was with Ben.

Joe Lucchesi... another man of mine wrapped up in guilt.

And more...

Her stomach tightened at the thought; the other memories, the horrifying ones: she and Joe had been the only two there at the harrowing peak of the investigation, when Duke Rawlins announced that he was the father of Grace, that beautiful sleeping daughter: eight years earlier, Duke Rawlins had drugged and raped Joe’s wife, and she had died in childbirth.

Stop.

She thought of replying to the text.

To say what? We’ve seen too much. We are forever altered.

She thought of Joe’s face, his eyes, his strength.

He is so sexy. He is kind. He is a wonderful father.

She thought of his pain, his anger, his tears.

He is... wildly damaged.

Run.

Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

Run.

Two for one!

She glanced up at the house. Clyde Brimmer was taking a while to process whatever Paul was saying to him.

Are you kidding me, though? Ben. Joe. Paul.

Emotional.

Overload.

Paul turned back to Ren, gave her a thumbs-halfway-up before he disappeared through the front door.

The place half-stinks?

Ren went into the house.

The place half-stinks .

Paul was alone in the living room. He raised his eyebrows when she walked in. ‘Well?’

‘Good call,’ said Ren. ‘I can just about handle this.’ She looked around. ‘So many questionable surfaces...’