‘Are you OK?’
‘Ow,’ she said, sitting up. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Here,’ said one of them, taking her gently under the elbow, ‘let’s get you standing, see what the damage is.’
‘Oh, I’m scarred for life,’ said Ren. ‘It’s these boots,’ she said, kicking a foot out.
‘Ah, they were the fuckers. We thought it was us.’
She laughed. ‘No. I don’t know you well enough to work that out. No, these boots – already today – have been covered in bodily fluids …’ She paused to push her hair back behind her ear. They were staring at her. ‘At an autopsy!’ she said. ‘Jesus, guys.’
They laughed.
‘New boots for you, then,’ said one of them.
‘My most extreme excuse for a shopping trip yet,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘Any time.’
She gave them a small wave as she disappeared into the building.
Misty lay by the flagpole in the Sheriff’s Office reception, but stood up when Ren walked in.
‘Aw, hello, there,’ said Ren, ‘How cute are you?’
She walked over to her. Misty sat down and started barking.
‘Whoa,’ said Ren. ‘Not liking me very much.’
She took another step toward her. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m not all bad.’ She reached out under her collar to look for an ID, but she found nothing ‘And who might you be?’ Misty barked a few more times.
Bob strolled through reception. He looked down at Ren. ‘Are you causing a disturbance?’
‘Who’s the dawg?’
‘That is Misty, canine companion of Salem Swade, the Vietnam vet – our guy in the cabin. Hmm – she doesn’t seem to be a fan of yours.’
He reached out his hand to pull Ren up.
‘I’m a little hurt by that, actually,’ said Ren. ‘Dogs don’t usually bark at me.’
‘You’ll get over it,’ said Bob.
‘I think she’s looking for treats,’ said Ren.
‘She’s come to the wrong place,’ said Bob.
‘So,’ said Ren. ‘Fill me in on Salem Swade. I only had a short note on him for the briefing.’
‘Yeah, that was from me. Sorry about that. It’s just we’re used to him here. Basically, he showed up a couple days ago with tales of people up in the woods, wearing masks, some shit like that.’
‘Okaay.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘But, obviously, we can’t ignore the fact he saw Jean’s lesbo-mobile at the Brockton Filly the Monday after she finished up work.’
‘Sheriff Robert Gage, I would expect better from you,’ said Ren.
‘My sister calls it that herself,’ said Bob. ‘Give me a break.’
‘How did Mr Swade know it was Jean’s?’ She paused. ‘Don’t tell me – from the description in the paper.’
Bob smiled. ‘Why, yes.’
‘So, you’re used to him – meaning he shows up with revelations on every case you handle? Or just you’re used to him about the place?’
‘In fairness to Salem, he’s not a crank that way. But he does try to help us with things –’
‘Like, if he reads about them in the paper, for example?’
‘Well, we haven’t issued him with a police radio …’
Ren smiled.
‘… Miss Smarty Pants. And how else do concerned citizens know what the Sheriff’s Office needs?’
‘Pillow talk?’ said Ren.
Bob shook his head slowly. ‘What you’re seeing right now is a look known as “wistful”.’
‘Aw.’
‘Why don’t you come say hi to Mr Swade?’
‘Sure.’
Bob looked at the torn skin across her hand. ‘What happened to you?’
‘Dead people’s insides. Icy patch. Dumb boots. I’m going shopping later.’
‘My wife blames clothes for things too.’
Ren glanced down at him. ‘Does she blame your clothes… for that little problem you’re having?’
Mike was still giving Salem a hard time about identifying people through masks.
‘Damn right,’ Salem continued, nodding at Ren when he walked in. ‘Nothing wrong with these.’ He pointed two index fingers at his eyes.