I really wish one conversation could go by without you asking me that, said Ren. Let me spell it out again: I. Am. Taking. My. Meds. Yes I am taking them.
I am taking them, and I will continue to take them for the rest of my life, because I believe that not taking them killed my friends, and killed my boyfriend. Theres the reality: my friends, my boyfriend, my loved ones, are dead because I didnt open a packet of pills and swallow them down with a glass of water like a good mental patient. Because I was too busy being mental. And wanting to feel good. I was too busy getting drunk, flirting with strangers, and deliberately ensnaring the man who went on to kill my friends, and my boyfriend, and I feel sick.
She dropped the phone, jumped up, ran for the bathroom, leaned over the toilet and threw up.
I am going to choke on this reality he wants me to face...
She walked back into the bedroom. She could hear Dr Lones voice through the phone.
Ren? Ren?
She put the phone up to her ear. Sorry. I ate some crappy sandwich earlier. I need to take five minutes before I join the team for dinner. Thanks for the call.
Is everything OK? said Lone.
Oh, fuck off. Everyone, just fuck the fuck off.
15
Ren showered, dressed, and stood in front of the mirror.
Ugh.
She grabbed her bag and did a quick no-makeup makeup job. She blasted her hair with the hairdryer, ran her fingers through it, left it down. It was five inches below her shoulders.
I have long hair now.
The last time I got this cut, Ben was alive.
Stop. It hurts. And it changes nothing.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Your mascara. Go.
Her cell phone rang. Gary.
Hey, said Ren.
You ready?
Yes.
Meet you outside. Paul and Sylvie are at the bar.
Ren went out into the hallway. Gary appeared from his room, freshly showered.
Handsome.
Look, I know how you feel about Sylvie, said Gary, as they walked to the elevator.
Jesus, why are we talking about her again?
How I feel about her is irrelevant, said Ren. How I feel about Karen your wife of almost twenty years is ultimately too. I do want you to be happy, said Ren. Just... I cant see how this is doing it for you.
I thought I was going to die in that shooting, said Gary. When I was laying there and I thought it was all over, I kept thinking about Sylvie. I
In what way? said Ren.
What? What do you mean
Im serious, said Ren. Were you thinking about how much you loved her and didnt want to die because youd never see her again? Or were you thinking, If Im going to die, I want the love of my life by my side, and the face you saw was Sylvies? Or were you running through the showreel thinking of her ass?
Jesus, Ren
I just feel no one else will ask you the difficult shit. Your buddies arent going to
No one else knows.
What? said Ren. Well, that must be exhausting. She paused. Does Sylvie think youre going to leave Karen for her?
He nodded.
And hows that working out for you? said Ren. What is wrong with me? I feel mean.
Gary said nothing.
Oh, said Ren. I get it. Do you think youre going to leave Karen for her?
He gave her a side glance, but didnt answer.
They arrived at the bar. Sitting on the arm of a sofa, dressed in a navy-blue suit, was Paul Louderback, his arms folded, his long legs crossed. He looked like he was cut-and-pasted from an elegant drawing room. He saw Ren, smiled warmly, stood up.
My heart...
Hes married.
Ben is dead.
Nice.
Standing beside Paul, with her back to them, was Sylvie Ross, her thick sandy hair in a high ponytail. She was dressed in a white shirt, slim-fit gray pants, pointed black heels.
Great ass. Poor shoe choice.
Sylvie turned around, and her face lit up as she saw Gary over Rens shoulder.
God, is that what that looks like?
I still dont know if you and Paul Louderback have slept together. Do I need to sleep with Gary to even this all out?
Everyone greeted each other, everyone was professional.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave.
Gary and Ren filled Sylvie and Paul in on the case over dinner.
Paul youll be taking charge of the command center, said Gary. Im guessing the best thing for Sylvie to start with tomorrow is talking to Caleb Veirs friends.
Paul nodded.
Sure, said Sylvie. Not a problem.
She is freakishly intense with him.
Oh, now I get it: yes, Gary nearly died, and Sylvie realized uh-oh how much she loves him.
It appears to be an alarming amount.
Sylvie started to pour Ren more wine. Ren held up her hand. Im good, thanks.
Gary and Paul both stared at her.
Thanks, guys, said Ren. Thanks.
An hour later, Sylvie was the first to excuse herself. Gary left thirty minutes later.
When they were gone, Paul made a show of checking his watch. Half an hour... standard time for one lover to ask another to wait before running up to join them? There was a sparkle in his eye.
Behave, said Ren.
Come on...
Im committing to nada.
So, are they? said Paul.
No, theyre not, said Ren.
OK, said Paul, with no conviction.
And no one should use the word lover.
I have definitely heard you say Im a lover, not a fighter.
No one other than me, then...
He smiled. Now that I have cornered you alone, he said, how are you doing? Really doing? You were very quiet over dinner.
I was enjoying everyone else, said Ren. Im finding it hard to raise my game.
You were perfectly pleasant, but...
You were perfectly pleasant, but...
Struggling I know.
Thats understandable, after what youve been through.
Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. I keep crying randomly. You dont cry. Tears well, you blink, theyre gone. And you think the feelings go with them.
Its not random, said Paul. Were talking about your boyfriend, your friends, your colleagues
Its all so weird, said Ren. Im not a widow; Ben and I werent long-term loves. Just a year. But I did love him.
You dont know what love is. Youre not a victim. You dont know how to love. And he doesnt want to hear about love.
Have you thought about grief counseling? said Paul.
Id rather shoot myself in the ass.
Vivid, said Paul.
Ren smiled, took a drink. But enough about me how are you doing? Hows Marianne?
Well, he said, drawing out the word, the easy answer would be great...
Oh, no, no, no, no. Do not appear available to me.
Shall I go on? he said.
Please do. Not.
Its a dramatic move, getting back with your ex-wife, said Paul. Its exciting at the start, everyone is happy the kids, our families, our friends well, most of them but then, the door is closed at night, everyones going about their business, and were just there, the two of us, and... He shrugged. Its like what people say about funerals: once its over, everyone disappears and youre left on your own and... Jesus Christ, Ren I cant believe I just started talking about funerals. That was the most
Ren shook her head. Stop. I get it. I know what youre saying. Dont tiptoe around me or I will shoot myself in the ass. Just, be normal. Please dont look at me like Im a victim. I cant deal with that. Relax in the knowledge that I know youre not an insensitive prick.
OK, said Paul. OK. Im sorry. Thanks.
No need to be, said Ren. Tears welled in her eyes again. Ugh. This is getting ridiculous.
Stop...
I just... lost so many people I loved, said Ren.
Paul reached out and squeezed her hand. She looked up at him through tears.
At least I have you.
Well, Im still here, said Paul. He blushed. Not saying that you love me, or loved me, but, I just mean... whats wrong with me tonight?
Ren laughed, and wiped her eyes.
Of course I loved you. In my own special and fearful way. But I have no idea what it is Im feeling right now.
Safe?
You... unsettle me, Ren Bryce.
Jesus.
Maybe I like being unsettled.
Ren laughed. I beg to differ.
Why are you laughing? said Paul.
It was just your delivery...
She checked her watch. It was 11 p.m. OK, Im wide awake. Im going to take a drive.
What? said Paul. Now?
Ren nodded. Every second counts.
And every second out there is one less second I spend alone in my bed with nothing but my own mind to fuck me.
Do you want company? said Paul.
Mos def not. No, thank you.
Ren drove out of the parking lot and read the sign: left was Tate, right was Lake Verny.
The Crow Bar will still be open. I can ask about John Veir, I can check out Seth Fuller.
I can throw myself into the beautiful, icy, moonlit water.
16
Seth Fuller stood on the bottom step of The Crow Bar, clutching the handrail. Eyes closed, he sucked air through his nose, held it, exhaled slowly through his mouth 7-11 breathing: he had been taught how to do this by the psychologist at BRCI. He had been embarrassed at first, sitting in front of this nerdy guy, Lockwood, in his brown round-neck sweater and red shirt, closing his eyes and counting in for seven, counting out for eleven.
Youve got this, Seth, Lockwood used to say. And if youve got this, youll see... youve got the rest of your life.
Seth thought it was a pretty sweeping statement, but he liked the idea of having the rest of his life. He just wasnt sure if he really did, and that, if so, hed ever be able to breathe properly through it.
He leaned hard on the handrail and vaulted up the steps. He walked into the bar, pulled a fifty-dollar note out of his back pocket and slapped it on to the counter in front of Shannon. He nodded toward Clyde Brimmer.
Shannon frowned. Where did you get that?
Seth smiled his lazy smile. I choose to take no offense at the tone of your remark.
Im serious.
Dont be, said Seth. A friend of a friend of a friend.
Shannon rolled her eyes, but there was anger in them. You better not be
Im not be, said Seth. Dont worry.
Goddammit, said Shannon. The town is crawling with police.
Well, if it helps, said Seth, I won it playing pool with the police. Gil Wiley. You can ask him yourself.
Jesus, Seth why do you have to create mysteries for no reason? said Shannon. Whats the point? Friend of a friend of a friend. Why would you want to cause more stress for me than Im already under?
Im sorry, Aunt Shannon. I wasnt thinking...
I worry, she said. So easily now. I get these spikes of anxiety in my chest and once theyre dug in there, theyre real hard to get rid of. She touched a hand to his cheek, but didnt let it stay there long. And shouldnt Wiley be taking care of things at home instead of out playing pool with