Harm’s Reach

‘Also, has anything else come up on Robert Prince … like issues with women?’

‘Nothing serious,’ said Eli. ‘I know a cop who worked private security for him a few times. He said he was a real control freak. That was it. Really cared about his image. He made his date change that night. They went to pick her up, she came down in a really short dress and he got out of the car, went back into her apartment with her and when they came back down, she was wearing something a lot more conservative …’

‘No black eye or split lip …’ said Ren.

‘Nope,’ said Eli. ‘Really, Prince just came across to him as a rich jerk. But I guess he does have an image to protect … and this lady wasn’t quite tying into it.’

‘No escort or hooker tales?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Eli, ‘but you know he can afford to be a very careful man if that’s what he’s into.’

‘I know …’ said Ren. ‘OK, thanks for that.’

‘Any time,’ said Eli.

Ren put down the phone. ‘Prince is a control freak,’ said Ren. ‘That’s all we’ve got. And Eli will look into the Order of Secret Handshakes.’

‘Another thought,’ said Janine. ‘A less conspiratorial one – if Laura Flynn had a psychology degree, could she have been going for a job at the ranch?’

‘That’s going to be part of my angle when we go and talk to the private folks of The Darned Heart Ranch. Firstly, I’m all about the employees, not the “guests”. Then – bam! – burning car.’

Detective Kohler stuck his head into the office. ‘Briefing here at six p.m. Ren, Robbie – can you make it?’

‘We sure can,’ said Ren. ‘In the meantime, we’re going to speak with the Faules, see if anyone saw anything, if they know anything more about the car, and if they’re harboring murderous, pyromaniac teens.’

‘OK,’ said Kohler, ‘we’ll see you later.’

Ren turned to Janine. ‘Do you think the parents of the teens know about the Faules’ trusting approach?’

‘Lord, no,’ said Janine. ‘It’s not like they would say that out loud. But, in the Faules’ defense, look at the adjoining property: an abbey. And it’s only the abbey boundary that is really crossable, unless you’re Bear Grylls. The Faules aren’t stupid. If the kids wander into the abbey, they’ll be seen, they’ll be pretty safe, and more than likely, they’ll be treated compassionately if they’re discovered. Obviously, a couple of the kids have strayed further, which is where we came in. What they do is prey on some kindly visitor to the abbey to drop them into town. Or they hide in the back of a truck. Or they reach out to one of the teen volunteers that come in and out of the abbey.’

‘So Kristen Faule thinks she’s got some kind of magic wand that will transform these kids,’ said Ren. ‘When it’s highly likely that most of them have been blackmailed into going there in the first place and are just biding their time. “You won’t get a car for your sixteenth birthday if you don’t get a handle on your behavior/you are forbidden to see your boyfriend or girlfriend/we’ll take away your iPad, trauma of traumas” …’

‘We were simple children, really …’ said Janine.

‘We were,’ said Ren. ‘It’s shitty that some of these parents are sending their kids off just to get them out from under their feet, to get a break from all their drama, or worse, that they want to protect their own reputation. I think the minority are the ones who want their child to be happy and healthy and … fixed. It’s a great thing what the Faules do. I’m sure they’ve helped a lot of kids … I just suspect some of these kids are beyond help.’

13 (#ulink_5e43a401-75eb-5393-9793-b080a2a6e476)

The sign for The Darned Heart Ranch arced over the iron entry gates, the words rendered in oxblood metal. Ren had parked outside the metal art shop in Conifer the day before; all metal signs had been jumping out at her ever since. She drove up the dusty driveway. Robbie had opened a map of the ranch on his iPad.

‘The ranch is laid out like an actual diagram of the heart,’ said Robbie. ‘We are currently driving up the inferior vena cava.’

‘And what does that do?’ said Ren.

‘It carries de-oxygenated blood from the lower half of the body to the right atrium.’

Ren looked at him. ‘Wow. I wasn’t actually expecting an answer.’

They pulled into the parking lot. Ren looked at the map. The main office of the ranch was a three-thousand-square-foot log cabin tucked into the right ventricle; there were recreational areas in the left atrium, troubled teen residences in the superior vena cava. There were stables, a tack room, a hayloft and maintenance units tucked into the cardiac muscle. Beside that was a school with several classrooms, beside that an indoor basketball court and a separate shower house and toilet block. There was a separate two-story building close by that housed staff. And a three-bed ranch-style home where the Faules lived.

‘It’s kind of a mix of old and new,’ said Ren. ‘OK – let’s go. See if we can make a cardiac arrest …’

Robbie was staring out the window.

You don’t laugh at my jokes any more.

‘Are you OK, Robbie?’ said Ren. ‘I mean, am I OK? Have I done something?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Because if you don’t change that attitude, young man, I’m going to leave you here, let them beat the trouble out of you …’

Robbie smiled.

That’s better … a little better …

They got out of the Jeep. Ren looked around.

‘Can you take some photos of the vehicles parked here?’ she said.

Robbie used his iPad to quickly take a few dozen shots from different angles.

‘Some very nice cars,’ said Ren. ‘Look at this fleet of four …’ Black, sleek, top-of-the-range executive vans. ‘Ferriers of children to rehab. What a strange world we live in.’

They walked through the parking lot.

‘Looks like someone jizzed up the side of that one,’ said Ren, pointing to another black car.

‘How do you just come out with things like that?’ said Robbie.

‘It’s shameful,’ said Ren. ‘I apologize. But it’s a ranch for teens … hormones are rampant.’

‘That doesn’t mean—’

‘Robbie, I’m kidding. Jesus. I don’t think a kid’s been out here jacking off. It doesn’t even look like jizz. Relax.’

They went into the reception of the main building, showed their badges and asked to speak with Kristen Faule.

‘Sure,’ said the girl at the desk, ‘please, take a seat.’

Kristen Faule arrived within ten minutes. She looked to be in her mid-forties, her snowy blonde hair tied back into a plait that reached halfway down her back. The only makeup she wore was to define her eyebrows and darken her lashes.

‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce,’ said Ren, ‘and this is Detective Robbie Truax. We’re from the Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force in Denver. Thank you for seeing us.’

‘My pleasure,’ she said. ‘Come on through to my office. My husband is on his way, he’ll join us there.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ren.