Well? said Gary, looking up, hands on his hips. He was a fit and handsome man of few words.
I am tiring of you, Gary. The look that says impress me, prove yourself to me every time. Your smart-ass bullshit. Everything.
Early morning landfill search it is! said Ren.
Garys face said it all.
Ren looked at Everett. I dont know about you, but is Briar just a dumb asshole?
Thats in no doubt, said Everett.
I get that he doesnt have a face for TV, said Ren, and that indefinably weird shit falls out of his mouth, but... She shrugged. Does he say things that raise my suspicion because he is guilty or because he is just dumb, dumb, dumb? Because he has no filter? Because he cannot understand that in an interview with a Fed, you might want to not say some of the shit your low-flying brain fires out? I mean, even if you just imagine the physical distance between your brain and your mouth thats time to pause, isnt it? Pause while its at your nostrils or something. God, do you ever feel like the world is just populated with a lot of really dumb people? His face! I want to slap it.
She drew breath.
You are all looking at me funny. Am I talking too fast again? Keep up, bitches. Jesus.
So, heres what we know, said Ren. Hope Coulson was last seen, alone, at eight thirty p.m. leaving Good Shepherd Church on East 7th Avenue where shed gone to host a youth meeting. Everyone else had left ahead of her a person walking by IDd her. She was to drive right home thats what she told Jonathan. He was out working at the pizza place, her last text to him at eight fifteen p.m. was See you at home, kiss kiss. Thats it. We have no witnesses. There are no HALO cams in the immediate vicinity.
Denver had over one hundred HALO High Activity Location Observation cameras, all monitored from a central location by DPD.
Hope Coulsons car was still in the church parking lot the next morning, said Ren. Did she leave her car because she was planning on drinking? Wouldnt she need her car to get to work the next morning? Was she having an affair? In that case, again, why wouldnt she drive home if she was planning to take a guy back there? Unless she was going back to his place. She shrugged. And if she was going for a drink alone, wouldnt she have chosen somewhere near her apartment? She was a twenty-minute drive from there. So she either walked a route with no HALO cams, or someone drove by and picked her up. But this cant have been pre-arranged on her phone, because there were no calls or texts to indicate that. And nothing came up with friends, family, acquaintances, work, church members, etc. The neighborhood canvas came up empty. We have a list of vehicles and owners with no priors.
Could something have happened at the church? said Everett. I dont know someone made a pass at her. Maybe she needed to go have a drink, calm down... she decided to have another... He paused. Yet, no one from the local bars IDd her. Her face has been everywhere. At this point, we would have heard something.
My gut is just not liking Jonathan Briar for this, said Ren.
How many times has the partner killed the wife or girlfriend in the house at night, then claimed they never made it home? said Gary.
Many, many times, said Ren. Just this is not one of them.
As everyone dispersed, Ren sat down at her desk and dragged her keyboard toward her. She started typing up her notes, super speedy. Her phone rang.
Go away.
She kept typing.
Fuck. Off.
The phone kept ringing.
Her cell phone beeped.
Jesus Christ.
She glanced at the text. It was from Gary: Pick up.
She picked up. Hi.
Can you come into my office, please?
Sure, said Ren. Whats the emergency? Nothing you can say over the phone?
Silence.
Alrighty then.
She walked into Garys office.
You stink, said Gary.
Wait til you smell me after the landfill search, said Ren, sitting down.
Gary was staring at her.
Hold on are you serious? said Ren. What do you mean stink? Literally?
In a way that tells me if I dont open a window, Ill have to check my own blood-alcohol level.
Oh.
Shit.
Please tell me, said Gary, that you did not go drinking last night with some lost soul you picked up at your meeting.
Jesus Christ, said Ren. I didnt even have a meeting last night. Which is the truth.
Just remember youre not there to make friends, said Gary. Or even eye contact. The rule is you walk in there alone, you walk out alone.
Thats me Renegade. She fired an imaginary gun. She paused. Was that your way of trying to find out if Im going to my meetings?
He eyeballed her. Lose the tone. This is about my concern that you are over the blood-alcohol level this morning.
I apologize for my tone, said Ren. And yes, I did drink last night. As people often do after work, meeting or no meeting. Is that forbidden? Is the whole of Safe Streets fired? Stop. Talking.
Gary dared her to hold eye contact with him.
Im sorry, said Ren.
Go.
Eight hours later, Ren and Everett were six drinks down in a new bar off Sixteenth Street.
Do not let me drink tonight, said Ren.
They laughed. Ren looked around her. There is nothing more unattractive to me than a group of men in their late forties in leisurewear on a night out, said Ren. Especially the ones who were once hot, you can see the traces, and now theyre just beat-down and filled with loss and white carbs.
Jesus, Ren. Everett craned his neck. I need to see who you are savaging. Filled with loss and white carbs...
I know, I know, said Ren. And, really, can something be filled with loss? Like, with an absence of something. But why abandon all hope at that age? Youve half your life left. Go to the fucking gym. Like Ben. Like Gary. Like you. And I say this while not actually finding super-buff bodies attractive.
Which makes no sense, said Everett.
I maintain that a lot of unhappiness in life is caused by people trying to make sense of things, said Ren. Try this: for one week when someone says something strange to you, just say to yourself interesting and senseless, goodbye. Like, goodbye to considering it any further.
If I did that, I dont think I could actually carry out my job, said Everett.
OK maybe restrict it just to things I say.
The things I can do with those reclaimed hours, said Everett. Go to the gym, for example.
Shall we dance? said Ren. Its filthy rap.
Yes, we shall, said Everett.
They hit the empty dance floor and immediately drew attention. Everett was clean-cut, dark-haired, side-parted kind of handsome. Ren had an exotic look of wild abandon.
And so they danced, and the eyes of the onlookers fell upon them! said Ren into his ear.
Shall we dance? said Ren. Its filthy rap.
Yes, we shall, said Everett.
They hit the empty dance floor and immediately drew attention. Everett was clean-cut, dark-haired, side-parted kind of handsome. Ren had an exotic look of wild abandon.
And so they danced, and the eyes of the onlookers fell upon them! said Ren into his ear.
This is high-larious!
Everett was laughing at her, but when he really started to move, Ren was the one who had to fall away to the side she was laughing so hard. He was an excellent dancer.
They went back to the bar and slumped into their seats.
I am soooo shitfaced. I think I look like a whore when I dance the way I really want to dance.
I agree, said Everett. Dont ever change.
And you dance like no one is looking, said Ren. Pinterest gold.
At two a.m., a cab with Ren in it pulled up outside the home of Annie Lowell, a dear Bryce family friend, who had allowed Ren to house-sit her beautiful, historic home while she was touring Europe.
This is me! said Ren, reaching forward and handing the driver twenty dollars.
She looked out the window. Then back at the driver.
Oh, shit, she said. Im sorry. I dont live here any more.
3
It was a beautiful ninety-degree morning in Denver: the landfill site sweltered under the same sun that was giving everyone elses day a glorious start. Ren was sitting in the passenger seat of her Jeep.
This cannot be my life.
Outside, the rest of Safe Streets were already dressed in white Tyvek suits, Kevlar gloves, and black half-face masks, sharing a range of looks that covered misery, repulsion, sorrow, and panic.
The panic was flickering in the eyes of Janine Hooks, Rens closest friend, and ex-Jefferson County cold case detective. Janine had joined Safe Streets three months earlier. She was a brilliant, thorough investigator with a sharp, wise mind and a heart of gold. Ren was certain Janine had an eating disorder, but had never dared to raise it.
It breaks my heart how tiny you look inside your suit.
Janine was staring down at her feet, lining the tips of her boots up.
Terrified about wearing a mask. Or shy around Robbie.
Robbie Truax was ex-Aurora PD, with Safe Streets from the beginning. Janine had met him first through Ren, and was comfortable liking him from afar, a little less so now that they were up-close colleagues.
Everett came into Rens line of vision, walking her way. He pulled open the door of the Jeep.
Hows my girl?
Seriously, said Ren, I have zero idea how I got into the apartment I did not remember I lived in.
Too much grammar in that sentence...
But you look fine thats not fair, said Ren. I dont think I can go through with this.
You can. You can always puke into the mask.
Jesus Christ. Thanks. My ultimate nightmare.
Fifteen minutes and one fake urgent phone call later, Ren was suited up with the others.
I made it.
They stood in a group, still apart from the other searchers.
OK, said Ren. Lets go through the hand signals again...
Everyone looked at her. She pushed her hand into the circle, low down, and raised her middle finger. Fuck. This.
The others smiled.
And fuck this heat.
Ren surveyed the landscape ahead of them: rotting food, filthy diapers, decaying animals... stop the inventory of this hellhole.
Stretched out before us, said Ren, is a landscape that looks like how my mouth feels. There may be a cadaver in both. May your masks serve and protect you.
She walked toward the rest of the searchers: Denver PD detectives, Sheriffs Office investigators, landfill site workers, and volunteers.
Volunteers, you extraordinary people. Have you no place else to be? God bless you all.
They moved in and began the search. It was as hot, foul and arduous as they expected. Two days later, they were back. Four days. Five. On day six, the body of Hope Coulson, hanging from black plastic coming undone, was hoisted from a stinking mound of lifes waste and set on the ground at the feet of the Safe Streets team. Janine Hooks eagle eye had spotted the bag, the Duck tape wrapped around it at each end with extra at the center.