There was a knock on the door and Ruddock walked in. Sign-in for the search is kicking off, if youd like to come out.
OK, said Gary.
So, said Ruddock, nodding toward the screen. What do you think?
Theyre both lying, said Gary and Ren at exactly the same time.
8
Jimmy Lyle was driving, happily, freely, down the west coast. Home, in whatever altered state he had left it, was far enough behind him to bring comfort. He was taking quiet roads, darker ones, roads less traveled. He didnt want to be pulled over, he didnt want the trunk of his car to be searched.
The day he had the shit beaten out of him by the pond was coming up on Valentines Day: after the operations, as he looked around the hospital with his unbandaged eye, he caught sight of heart-shaped balloons, bunches of flowers, cards, an air of buoyancy. Jimmy hadnt a face for Valentines Day, hadnt a heart for love. He had seen it go wrong too soon. His wild and beautiful mother married his sensible teacher father. She walked out on them when Jimmy was eight years old, his fathers heart spiked on her stiletto as she made her glamorous exit. She had loved Jimmy deeply, and suddenly she was gone, and his father looked at him across the table of their first dinner alone like he was a dog who he now needed to find a home for. He kept him, though. Jimmy made sure to be indispensable. He cooked his father breakfast the very next morning and Outside Jimmy and Inside Jimmy were born; one the white, tranquil, opaque shell, the other the dark, crimson, screaming, angry, bleeding, weeping soul it covered.
The day Jimmy had left the hospital, he went via the cancer ward. He stole some things, some personal effects. He found an empty room and changed. He could barely look at himself in the mirror.
Afterward, as Jimmy stood, eyes on the floor, waiting for the elevator, he had heard a gasp beside him. It was to his right it was always to his right. He turned to see a little girl standing there, wide-eyed.
She cried out. Mommy, Mommy!
Jimmy froze. The little girls mother scooped her up in her arms.
What happened to that ladys face? said the little girl, pointing to Jimmy.
Im so sorry, said the woman. I dont know what to say. Im trying to teach her... shes only three years old. She...
Jimmy smiled. Its OK, he said. Shes just a little kid. They say what they think, dont they? We could all learn from that.
The mothers shoulders relaxed. The little girl slowly turned to Jimmy, her head bowed. She looked up at him through teary eyes.
I had an accident when I was a little girl, he said.
The mother looked at him nervously, not sure what he was going to say next, not knowing whether or not he would say something that would scar her child.
So, said Jimmy, you need to listen to your mama when she tells you to stay away from boiling water.
The little girl was transfixed, horrified. The mother nodded, took a few steps backward. Thank you, she said. You have a good day.
You too, said Jimmy.
Jimmy walked through those hospital doors, holding a bunch of red roses close to his face on one side, holding a still-buoyant balloon on the other.
I HEART YOU, it said.
I FUCK YOU UP, thought Jimmy. I ABANDON YOU.
He remembered picking flowers from the back garden for a woman once, and, even while he was handing them to her, thinking exactly those words. And later, doing exactly those things.
There were good people who had scars, people who had to fight every day to bring others past the outside to the beauty underneath. Jimmy Lyles face and body, with their layer upon layer of damage, were the perfect complement to his soul.
9
Ren and Gary stood in the parking lot of Tate PD, watching the volunteers arrive. A table had been set up to sign them in, manned by two members of Team Adam. Ren watched as they went through a process theyd gone through countless times before Team Adam was a program run by the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. It was made up of retired law enforcement officers, who, like CARD, had specialist expertise, and mobilized as soon as they heard a report of a missing child anywhere in the US.
Ren studied the crowd. Sometimes I feel so guilty thinking some of the shit I think about these kind people, she said. Theyre here sacrificing whatever it is their day would have held, while some stranger lady is thinking theyre Ted Danson. I mean, Ted Bundy. Hello? Charles Manson, maybe?
Gary glanced at her briefly.
You know, said Ren, it still blows my mind how often the guilty party shows up. Whatever about the ones who are so close to the victims that it would be suspicious if they didnt show. But Im thinking of those peripheral nutjobs who put themselves in the frame by hanging around. The ones who might never have been on our radar otherwise and they cant see how thats what theyre doing. I mean, even if you change channels on your television in a micro-second these days, theres a crime show helping your ass out with these things.
We like the dumb ones, said Gary.
Ren scanned the crowd again.
Is there a psycho among you?
Gil Wiley was moving through the line, greeting the people he knew.
Wiley looks like hes on the campaign trail, said Ren. His voice... its like its being garbled for a TV interview to protect his identity. Like we should only ever be seeing him in sil-you-ette.
Gary held in a laugh, but still managed a low-volume sound of approval.
Its not Denver cold, said Ren, but its still cold. That Puffa jacket might have been fine for the walk to school, but if Caleb Veirs been out overnight...
Gary nodded. I know.
People continued to arrive, and the crowd began to expand toward them.
Rens heart started to pound.
Oh, no, please dont do this. Not here.
She swallowed. She swallowed again.
No, no, no. Not now. Not here.
And the sensation struck, again.
Drowning, drowning.
Keep it together, bitch.
Gary... One word, and it came out like it had needed the Heimlich maneuver to make it.
Oh, God. My legs.
She pressed her hand against her thigh.
Like thats going to help.
Gary, she said. Im not feeling a lot like being around big groups of people.
He turned to her. He was waiting for more.
Breathe. Breathe.
Speak.
Speak!
Ren? said Gary.
Crowds people Im going to pass out dont you wont stop breathe in out in out breathe I cant youre going to pass out.
Gary took her to one side. Are you OK?
Im... Im feeling overwhelmed.
He studied her face.
Oh, no. Not the grave concern. No fucking way.
I just need a moment, said Ren, Im fine.
No youre not.
I just... dont feel like being in the thick of this right now, said Ren, or, like, in the middle of search teams or lunches where I have to do small talk with people. I just
If thats how youre feeling, said Gary, Im glad you told me. So I know to make sure you do exactly those things.
You have got to be shitting me. I cant believe I said lunches. Jesus.
Come on, Ren what did you think I was going to say? He was looking straight ahead. Do you think Im carrying around free passes for people? No. Youre here one hundred per cent or youre not here at all. Thats how this works. They were the conditions. He paused. I know youre not a big fan of conditions, Ren. He looked at her. Ive got your back. Conditionally.
Great. Greaaaat. Thank you.
The good news is, said Gary, theres only one condition that you do the best job you can. And that means being no more special than the next investigator or the next. Or the one standing beside you minus half his left triceps.
Ooh, even you know that sounds like its a competition.
A touch of awareness flickered in Garys eyes.
I, however, will give you a free pass for that, said Ren.
She had been in the room, inches from him, watching as the bullet ripped through his arm, and the memory still drove a spike of pain through her core.
I think you need to see Dr Lone more often, said Gary. Dr Leonard Lone was Rens psychiatrist. Her job was dependent on regular visits with him. Every two weeks is clearly not enough.
Sweet Jesus. Gather yourself. Do not let him see you like this again. OK, said Ren. Oh. Fucking. Kay.
Ren slapped a studied frown on her face as her heart pounded.
Fake it til you make it.
She drew subtle, slow, deep breaths through her nostrils as she scanned the crowd again. She saw a pretty blonde in her mid-forties, dressed in a pink zip-up fleece, lycra pants, and bright pink sneakers wrap her arms around a lanky, shaven-headed young man who looked to be in his early twenties.
Skin and bones and an air of the unwashed.
The woman squeezed him tight. It was a maternal gesture, and he didnt fight it. There was profound sadness in both their faces.
Ren turned to Gary. Excuse me for two seconds.
She walked toward the embracing pair, looking at a point past them, pausing as she reached them to take out her phone and pretend to text.
This is a grieving town, the woman was saying. A grieving town.
Grieving agent finds spiritual home.
Im praying for him, said the woman, squeezing his arm. Praying for him night and day.
But hes only just gone missing. Theres only been one night and one day.
Thank you, said the young man. I appreciate it. And I know Aunt Shannon will too.
Im lost...
Hopefully, said the woman, therell be a more positive outcome for Caleb Veir.
Oh. OK. Shes talking about the other boy... the one who drowned: Aaron Fuller.
Oh. OK. Shes talking about the other boy... the one who drowned: Aaron Fuller.
Yes, said the young man. I couldnt not come to help today.
Good for you, said the woman.
She left quickly, and as Ren looked up, there was no one between her and the young man, and they locked eyes. He gave her a small nod, then turned and walked toward the line of volunteers.
When Ren went back over to Gary, Ruddock was standing with him, looking in her direction, but following the path of the young man.
Who is that guy? said Ren.
Interesting you should ask, said Ruddock. Hes a former inmate of BRCI, got out last summer: Seth Fuller. Hes a cousin of Aaron, the boy who drowned. He lives with his aunt out at The Crow Bar on Lake Verny. She owns it. In fact, she bought it from John Veir he bought it when he came back from one of his tours of duty. He was going to set up a dive school there, or do boat tours, but it never really worked out for him, so he had to sell up.