Here, he said, pulling his cellphone off his belt and flipping it open. Here. He hit number two on his speed dial. He held the phone out to Bob. Bobs mouth opened, but didnt move. Here, said Transom, holding the phone to Ren. She took it from him and saw Jeans name flashing on the screen. She closed it gently.
Im so sorry, Patrick, but it was Jean, said Ren. The County Coroner, Denis Lasco, identified her body before the avalanche hit. He found her FBI credentials. The last time she was seen was ten days ago. She had gone on vacation, as you probably know. Thats all anybody knew. Following the avalanche, Sheriff Gage, Undersheriff Mike Delaney, and the coroner, Denis Lasco, went through what they had seen of the body and the clothing. They met with Jeans colleagues from Glenwood Springs, they studied photos, and they all agreed that it was Jean.
Bob had shifted forward in his seat, but hung there, mute. Transom was looking at him as if he would disagree with Ren. Ren spoke to draw his gaze back to her. I am so sorry, she said. So sorry. I wish I wasnt sitting here having to tell you this.
Transom was rigid. His eyes were running everywhere. Im sorry, he said, looking back to them both, I dont mean to be Im just wondering are you sure?
The front door opened and four kids in ski suits ran in, trailing snow behind them. The last one slipped on the wet floor and slammed his head into the side of the sofa. He burst out crying. Ren was the first to make it to him, lifting him up gently from the ground.
Youre OK, sweetheart, she said. That silly snow, making a mess on the floor. He looked up at her through his tears, wondering who she was and why she was carrying him. Ren looked past him, waiting for his mother. An over-made-up brunette came in the door, leaning down, rubbing snow off a giant black Newfoundland.
Ren was already walking toward her with her crying son.
Mrs Transom? said Ren.
Yes, she said, reaching out and taking her child in her arms. She looked around the room at everyone. She gave Ren an extra up-and-down.
Who are our guests, Patrick? she said.
He turned to the kids. Hey, guys. Straight to bed, OK? Youve had a late night. Take care of the little guy.
The eldest girl went to her mom and took her little brother.
This is my wife, Ellie, said Patrick, when the kids had all left.
Bob stood up. Hello Sheriff Bob Gage from Summit County.
And Im Special Agent Ren Bryce with the FBI.
Oh, said Ellie.
Jeans dead, said Patrick. His voice was flat.
Ellie looked at him like it was his abruptness that had caught her off guard, not what he was telling her.
Your sister, Jean?
Of course its my sister, Jean, said Patrick. Who else would it be?
What the hell is wrong with you? she snapped.
Ren stared at her. What the hell is wrong with you? Hes in shock, Mrs Transom. Please, sit down.
Im sorry. Ive never hes just not like that.
A real Southern Belle. Manners over all. Im sure he isnt, said Ren.
Ellie walked around the back of the sofa and came in to sit beside her husband, putting her hand on top of his. It was an odd connection.
Ren sat down beside Bob.
What happened? said Ellie.
We dont know yet, said Ren. But her body was found on Quandary
Oh my, she said. The missing body? That one?
I wish I could tell you something else, but yes, said Ren.
Are you going to recover it? she said. You are going to recover it.
Maybe not, said Transom.
They all looked at him.
I worked Ski Patrol, he said. I know how it goes. If its unstable up there, no ones going to go up, right? No point in risking real lives for a dead body. So youll have to wait months until the snow melts. Am I right?
Ren was happy to leave that one to Bob.
Well, if youve worked Ski Patrol he said.
So, OK, let me get this straight, said Ellie. You have no body, but youre saying Jean is dead.
Its Jean, honey, OK? said Transom. It is Jean. Do these people look like fools to you?
Again, Ellie looked like she was listening to a complete stranger. She looked at Ren. My husband is not normally
Mrs Transom, Im sorry, said Ren, but your husband is not normally told he has lost his only sister and her body may not be recovered for months.
Ren could feel Bobs thigh clench beside her.
Ellie turned to her husband. Oh, honey. This is terrible news. This is just terrible. Im so sorry, sweetheart. She started to cry. She put her arms around him. He fell against her and it was only then that Ren saw how close they really were.
Bob and Ren gave their speech and their cards and left the Transoms alone. Ren looked at Bob with sad eyes. She leaned on his arm to walk down the icy steps.
That was one hell of a lucky break, that he worked Ski Patrol, said Bob.
Can you imagine? said Ren. I cant believe we got off so lightly.
Christ, though, said Bob, we didnt even show him a photo, an ID, a scrap of clothing, nothing and he took our word.
He opened Rens door.
I know. But, she said, getting in, hes in total shock. He could come around and flip out. Or his wife could put pressure on him. Or on us. The media could get a hold of him
I dont know, said Bob, he seems a calm type of guy. Like that kind of outside influence wouldnt affect him.
But we only had two seconds with him before he realized something was wrong and started to react. I mean, what does two seconds tell you?
I just dont think hes the hysterical type
They drove in silence for a little while. Bob reached over and turned on the radio to Rens least favorite Seventies rock. She sat tight.
Transoms what? Twenty-eight, twenty-nine? said Ren. Their daughter must be seven. Is it me or are people who marry really young and have loads of kids trying to make up for a shitty childhood?
Spoken like the true single and childless.
Excuse me? said Ren, smiling.
How about, said Bob, their childhood was so amazing that they wanted to continue the tradition? said Bob.
Hmm, said Ren. I like your idea better.
There you go, said Bob. Be sunny.
9
The Firelight Inn stood at the cross-section of French Street and Wellington a beautiful clapboard Victorian house in a muted blue-gray from the Breckenridge town palette. A picket fence ran around the garden. The snow had drifted up to the window sills.
The Firelight Inn stood at the cross-section of French Street and Wellington a beautiful clapboard Victorian house in a muted blue-gray from the Breckenridge town palette. A picket fence ran around the garden. The snow had drifted up to the window sills.
Good night, said Bob. Sleep well. Seven fifteen at the office, OK?
Thanks, said Ren, waving him off, pushing in the front door to the inn. The hallway was covered in thick mats and clumps of snow. Rows of snowboards and skis lined the wall. The Firelight was half-inn, half-hostel. Ren had a cozy suite on the top floor, with an entrance from the house and an external staircase. When she got to her room, she walked over to the window and stared out at the white night.
She took out her cellphone and dialed. I love it, she said.
At the other end, Paul Louderback laughed. I knew you would.
When were you here?
Two summers ago. With Marianne and the kids. We took a suite
Me too.
With the separate stairs up? Above the hot tub?
Yes. Its great.
I thought you might like it. Marianne wanted to stay in one of the condos
Id rather
I know.
Condos are so the same everywhere, said Ren.
I know. Hey, dont forget to sign up for breakfast before you go to bed.
Do I call down? she said, looking for a phone that wasnt there.
Are you looking for a phone? She could hear the smile in his voice.
No, Im not.
Theres a list with a swinging pencil by the office, said Paul. You go down and tick the box for whatever you want. Its all really good.
Is there a box for the company of Paul Louderback?
Paul laughed. Yeah, for the crazies.
Exactly.
What was I thinking?
Ren laughed, then sighed. So Jean Transom. I dont know what you know at this stage. Did you hear that Denis Lasco, the coroner, is OK?
No. And ?
All he would commit to was GSW. He didnt have long with the body.
Right.
Hes going to be cautious. He blacked out, so hes doubting his memory number one. And number two, this is a federal agent were dealing with, a high-profile case. I doubt he wants to be the one making big statements, in case hes wrong. Or he derails the investigation. And? The body could show up in the morning and contradict anything he tells us.
Who found the body?
Anon, said Ren. I would venture a back-country skier who was not supposed to be where he was. And with the FBI all over it, he wont be showing his face any time soon.
I see, said Paul.
Can I ask? said Ren. Why me as case agent?
What do you mean?
Im flattered, but why am I the chosen one?
Desperation is a word that comes to mind.
I was thinking
You know why? said Paul. No body does it better.
Very funny.
Look, youre good at your job, said Paul. There it is. The thing you cant believe in.
Well, thank you for your faith.
And thank you in advance for solving the crime.
And thank you for the pressure.
Any time.
Oh you never answered me earlier. Did you know Jean? said Ren.
I didnt know her personally. But I taught her at the academy. She was quiet, kept to herself.
The poor woman.
I know. OK, I gotta go. Sleep well.
Thank you, said Ren. You too.
And dream gently.
She paused. Ill try. Damn you, Paul Louderback.
The South Ridge Seafood Grill was the kind of place that sucked you under its awning and through its open doors. It was on a quiet strip on Ridge Street, but had taken most of the Tuesday-night diners in Breck. It was the right size with the right atmosphere and the right food. Ren walked in and moved in to order beside the two guys at the bar whose heads were not hung over their beer. They were both drunk, wind-burned and fit, dressed in green and navy fleeces, black pants and boots.
Well, hello there, said the tall one, leaning an elbow on the back of his bar stool to turn to her.
Hi, said Ren.
Whats a pretty girl like you doing in the personal space of the elderly? he said.
How elderly? said Ren, raising an eyebrow.
Im sixty-two, hes seventy-two, he said, pointing to his short friend.