Blood Runs Cold

‘What?’ said Little Dick. ‘I don’t know if we can let you do that. Can we?’

‘It would be a first,’ said Mauser.

‘I’ve got an early start,’ said Ren.

‘What do you do?’ said Mauser, handing her a glass of wine.

‘Oh, OK,’ she said. ‘Thank you. What do I do? Mainly not talk about my job.’

‘Little Dick here’s a DDS,’ said Mauser.

‘A what?’ said Ren.

‘Doesn’t Do Shit,’ said Mauser. He reared back with a crazy, infectious laugh that made Ren laugh even harder. Little Dick gave what was obviously his trademark shrug.

‘And what do you do, Mauser?’ said Ren.

‘I come from a distinguished line.’

‘Of what?’ said Ren.

‘Of bullshit.’

‘You are so funny,’ said Ren.

‘You mean it’s not our bodies you’re interested in?’ said Mauser.

‘Not if you keep calling him Little Dick,’ said Ren.

‘He’d need to do you three times to give you twelve inches,’ said Mauser.

Ren laughed loud and hard. ‘You guys …’

The barman walked their way with a tray.

‘Oh God,’ said Ren, ‘what are these?’

‘Mind Erasers,’ said the barman, lining up six glasses filled with liquid in a shade of wrong.

‘Six,’ said Ren, deadpan. ‘There are three of us.’

‘Yeah, but you forget you’ve drunk the first one,’ said Mauser.

‘You sure do,’ said Little Dick.

‘They got twenty on their tab already,’ said the barman, smiling. ‘It’s like, bam – Will Smith, Men in Black.’

Mauser smiled. ‘This is what stranger danger is all about.’

Ren laughed. ‘But I’m really not drinking,’ she said, sliding her two toward her. She sucked each one up through a black straw. ‘Wow.’

Mauser raised his. Little Dick followed. ‘And we’ll go again, sir,’ said Mauser to the barman.

‘Ooh,’ said Ren.

An hour later, Mauser was leaning in to her. ‘I’m not an advice column here, but this Vincent guy is insane. That’s all I’ll say.’

‘Letting a pretty girl like you go,’ said Little Dick.

‘Aw, Vincent’s a really good guy –’ said Ren.

‘Insane!’ said Mauser.

‘Insane!’ said Little Dick.

‘I’m the insane one,’ said Ren.

‘Really?’ Mauser slapped the bar in front of them and looked at her with dancing eyes. ‘Join the party, sweetheart.’

And she did, smiling a slow-spreading MindErasersmile.

10 (#ulink_b93b006c-4df4-561d-98cc-9df7b1575ff1)

Breckenridge was between busy holiday weekends – Martin Luther King Day had just passed and Presidents’ Day was a month away. Kids were back at school. It was seven a.m. and skiers and snowboarders were heading to breakfast early before they hit slopes they were about to find out were quieter than they expected.

Bob Gage sat in Daylight Donuts spinning the playing card he was given when he placed his order. The ace of spades. He nodded his head to the beat. He was on his second coffee when a waitress walked by with the matching card and stepped back a few paces to his table to lay down her tray. She handed him a plate of bacon, egg, biscuits and gravy. His cellphone started to ring. He mouthed a thank you to her as he answered it.

‘Sheriff Gage? It’s Patrick Transom. I’m sorry. I tried to be understanding. I mean, I do understand. But I’ve had time to think about everything and … I want my sister. I need my sister back. I’m not going to wait months for warm weather to …’ His voice caught. ‘I … understand that Search and Rescue doesn’t want to go back up there. But I do. I’m an –’

‘Mr Transom, you’re right. It’s not safe up there. A snow assessment’s being done this morning, but –’

‘I don’t care if it’s not safe,’ said Patrick. ‘I want to –’

‘We cannot let you do that,’ said Bob. ‘It’s a crime scene up there as far as we’re concerned. We can’t let anyone in there. I’m sure you understand that. You probably haven’t slept, and maybe this seems like the only solution right now …’

‘If the snow report is good, if the conditions are stable enough, can I go?’

‘No. But …’ He paused. ‘OK … if the snow report comes back good, we’ll head on up there.’ He pushed his plate away from him. ‘I’ll get in touch with Search and Rescue.’

Gary Dettling pulled up into the small driveway at the Firelight Inn. The street was quiet. He turned off the engine and waited. After five minutes, he texted Ren. He got no reply. He knocked at the door of the inn. The owner was on his way out with a snow shovel.

‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Gary. ‘I’m looking for a woman checked in last night, Ren Bryce?’

‘Oh, yes … I’m sure she’s gone already.’

‘What?’

‘About twenty minutes ago.’