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

‘Hmm, which would I prefer – strings or a hand up my butt?’

Paul laughed.

‘But if we were going Sesame Street,’ said Ren, ‘wouldn’t I be Oscar? The one in the trash can.’

‘Aw.’ He laughed.

‘This is actually not funny,’ said Ren. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t go to Glenwood.’

‘And why do you have to?’

‘Well, if you’re not responsible, then I would say … payback.’

‘For what?’ said Paul.

Ren paused. ‘Shenanigans.’

‘Riiight. I won’t ask. But … what did you do?’

‘Behavior unbecoming of an agent. How about that?’

‘OK. But … I will find out.’

‘No. You won’t.’

‘Just for shits and giggles.’

‘Jesus, this really is not funny.’

‘I’m sorry. But that T in TDY does stand for temporary. And, well, someone had to fill in for Jean.’

‘Yeah, maybe someone a little more Glenwood-friendly. And Tiny Gressett-friendly. And Todd, for that matter. They hate me.’

‘Poor baby.’

‘Shut up.’ She shouted.

‘Relax.’

‘Don’t tell me to fucking relax. I’m trying to go along with your lighthearted bullshit because I… like you, but I’m totally freaking out here and you’re just messing with me.’

‘I am taking you seriously, but –’

‘It’s my career, OK? You’re established, I have to –’

‘You’re established too. What are you talking about? You’ve been doing this ten years, for Christ’s sake. Why would I get you on to the Transom case if I didn’t think you were competent?’

‘Because … I don’t know. You feel sorry for me?’

‘Don’t be an idiot. And don’t be so paranoid.’

‘Don’t call me paranoid. That’s not fair.’

‘Well, you’re acting that way.’

‘No, I’m not. I’m afraid I’ve fucked up my entire career –’

‘Well, you haven’t, OK? I’m not hearing big bad Ren Bryce whispers around the office. Around anywhere. You need to get some perspective. A good night’s sleep, a good meal …’

‘Now you sound like my mom.’

‘Me and who?’

‘Just Vincent.’ She let out a breath. ‘I’m just … I can’t face it all. I’m sick of being tired. I’m sick of running around. I’m not sick of the inn. I love it here. And now I have to leave. And I’ll be in a tan motel room.’

‘Ask for a pink one.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Paul. Look, I gotta go.’

‘I’m sorry, two-two-three. I was trying to make you smile.’

‘You usually do. Goodnight.’ She hung up.

Two-two-three; he hasn’t said that in a while.

She lay back on the bed, held the phone over her face and scrolled down to Helen’s number. After a minute staring at it, she hit B for Billy.

Ren’s makeup had worn off, her nose and her eyes were red when the knock came at the door to the outside stairs.

‘Hey,’ said Billy. ‘What’s up? You OK?’ Ren shook her head, said nothing, just went back to where she was lying on the sofa. He sat beside her and guided her head gently on to his lap. He stroked her face until it got wet with tears. She sat up eventually and grabbed a handkerchief from the night stand. She looked at him with sad eyes.

‘What’s up?’ he said.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘Where? Now?’

‘No. I’ve been … transferred. To Glenwood.’

‘What? Why?’

Here goes. ‘Resources and funding and … stuff.’

‘The FBI is not short of funds.’

‘It’s not that. Look, to be honest, I don’t know why they’re doing this to me. And I’m not happy.’

‘Well, that explains the tears then …’