Agent Ren Bryce Thriller Series Books 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss

She turned to them. ‘It’s John Prine. Genius. “She Is My Everything”. Go to iTunes. Anyone who can write “Jesus, The Missing Years” …’

‘Got my music here, anyone wants a listen,’ said Salem. He rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a pink iPod Shuffle and clipped it to his coat. He hung the headphones around his neck.

‘Well, fuck me,’ said Mike. ‘Where’d you get your hands on that? Where do you even charge it? You got a laptop in your other pants?’

Salem patted his pockets. ‘Can’t say that I do. The pod is from the kids work at the resort. Good kids. Take it in, charge it, load it, give it back to me at the Gold Pan.’

Bob laughed. ‘Well, why the hell not?’

‘Damn right,’ said Salem. ‘Beats that silence up in my cabin any day. That mountain silence. Sometimes it’s just got the wind to keep it company.’

‘Take a seat, Salem. What do you need to tell us?’

Salem shook off his parka. He was slight and wiry.

‘I hear stuff at night,’ he said, sitting down.

Behind his back, Mike stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Bob glanced up at him.

‘Go on,’ said Ren. ‘What do you hear?’

‘Voices.’

Mike gazed at the ceiling.

‘What kind of voices?’ said Bob.

‘Quiet ones.’

‘Do you have your headphones on when this happens, Salem?’ said Mike.

Salem turned around to him. ‘Now you tell me how I could hear a damn thing with headphones in my ears?’

‘Go ahead,’ said Ren.

‘I saw people with masks on,’ said Salem. ‘Some of them were in funny suits. And I’m not talking aliens,’ he said, turning back to Mike. ‘They were regular people.’

‘What were they doing?’ said Bob.

‘They were walking around, then they headed out, maybe to one of the other cabins.’ He shrugged. ‘It was hard to tell what the point of this was.’

‘What kind of masks?’ said Ren.

‘These kind,’ said Salem, slapping a hand over his mouth.

‘Not Hallowe’en masks,’ said Mike.

‘I told you – no,’ said Salem. ‘But it was dark.’

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘And you came in because you saw the posters up.’

‘Exactly,’ said Salem. ‘If you see something strange … Lord knows what it’s linked into. There’s a lot of links in the background of things, people need to trace.’

‘You’re right,’ said Ren. ‘Now, can you tell me about the car?’

‘Yes,’ said Salem. ‘I read about her missing car. A silver Subaru Forester. I recall seeing it in the parking lot of the Brockton Filly.’

‘When was that?’ said Ren.

‘It was a Monday night. The weekend after it said she went missing.’

‘Does January twelfth sound right to you?’ said Ren.

Salem nodded.

‘Had you seen her car there before?’

‘Might have,’ said Salem. ‘But I know I did that night.’

‘Did you see the missing woman, Jean Transom?’ said Ren. ‘If it helps, I can show you a photo of her.’

‘I saw the photo in the newspaper, but I’ll take another look.’

Ren laid it on the desk in front of him.

He shook his head. ‘Damn. I don’t know. I can’t say that I’ve seen that lady anywhere. But you just don’t know the links going on places.’

‘We’re keeping an eye out for them,’ said Ren. ‘Is there anything else you can think of?’

Salem shook his head and started standing up and putting on his coat. ‘I’m fairly medicated right now I’ve got to tell you. Thirteen meds last time I checked. I don’t know if they make me sharper. I can still get a little angry. But not so much.’

Ren shook his hand. ‘Well, you look after yourself, Salem, OK? And you know where to find us. And is there anywhere we can find you?’

‘My cabin – there’s no number on the door.’

Everyone waited for a laugh that didn’t come.

‘Bob, do you have a map of Quandary there?’ said Ren.

‘I do,’ he said, going to a file, searching through it and pulling one out.

Do you ever keep anything on top of your desk?

‘OK,’ said Ren to Salem, ‘would you mind marking round about where your cabin is on this map?’

Sure,’ he said, taking a red Sharpie she was holding out, marking the spot.

‘And what’s the best route to it?’ said Ren. ‘Like, the easiest.’