Alex Barclay 4-Book Thriller Collection: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss, Harm’s Reach

They walked up the first steep incline and through the trees. Ren stopped when the path leveled and the clearing revealed the spectacular view across the valley.

‘It’s so beautiful up here,’ she said, moving off again. ‘I don’t think I can face seeing Jean … like she is.’ She paused. ‘It’ll be hard, I guess.’

‘You don’t have to –’

Ren smiled patiently.

‘It was worth a try,’ said Mike. He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s just do it.’

Up ahead, one of the young detectives sat on a log with an attractive, fit-looking blonde woman who had just sat up from having her head between her knees. Her skin was the palest gray, her eyes rimmed red. She was in light hiking clothes, with a fleece wrapped around her waist. There were flecks of dried vomit on her sneakers.

The detective stood up. ‘This, uh … lady found the body,’ he said to Ren. He turned to the woman. ‘She is the FBI.’

‘The entire FBI,’ said Ren. She smiled. ‘I’m so sorry you had to see that,’ she said. ‘It can’t have been pleasant.’

‘I needed to pee … that’s how I found the body,’ said the woman. ‘I didn’t actually … hit the body or anything.’

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Well, we’re going to go ahead up.’

‘Good luck with your investigation,’ said the woman. She groaned and leaned into the undergrowth and threw up.

Ren’s cellphone started to ring. It was Paul Louderback.

‘Hello?’

‘Ren, hi. It’s me. I got a call from Gary.’

‘Yup – I’m on my way to the scene right now.’

‘Oh, OK. I was going to ask you.’

Ren could hear a child screaming in the background.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Paul. ‘I’m in a madhouse. We’re packing for … Breckenridge.’

‘What?’

‘Well, this is when we come – same time every year. For the Gold Panning championships. The kids love it. And they always find some gold.’ Ren could hear the smile in his voice. ‘They just don’t realize their daddy has dropped it in their pans when they’re not looking.’

‘That is so sweet,’ said Ren. There’s so much ofyour life I don’t know about.

‘So, yes, the timing’s a little strange.’

‘Well, if the body was ever going to show, it was going to be around now.’

‘True,’ said Paul.

‘I’ll call you when I know more,’ said Ren.

‘Good luck.’

Ren and Mike followed the snaking path up through the trees. They passed hikers who had been at the summit when the body had been found and who had been rushed down to the bottom.

‘“I didn’t hit the body” – I liked that,’ said Ren.

‘I know.’

They hiked for another forty minutes until they came to the bottom of a rich, green space that sloped left off the main trail. They ducked under the crime scene tape and made their way down.

Denis Lasco stood up and waved. ‘Anyone got water?’

‘Sure,’ said Ren, handing him her bottle.

‘Hey, Ren,’ said Bob. His tanned face was sweaty and blotched red. ‘Ladies always carry Kleenex, right?’

‘Not this lady,’ said Ren. ‘You’ll have to use your shirt. How’ve you been?’

‘I dropped fourteen pounds,’ said Bob, patting his stomach.

‘I think I found it,’ said Ren, patting her hips.

‘Finders keepers,’ said Bob. ‘Did you find anything else I lost? My self-respect, my dignity?’

Everyone laughed, then hung in silence for a moment.

‘Right,’ said Ren, ‘now that we’ve gotten through our defensive laughter …’

Bob gave a sad smile. ‘Wait ’til you see this,’ he said, gesturing behind him.

Ren felt rooted, but she was quickly car-crash drawn to the body. ‘Whoa … ly fuck. That is … Jesus Christ.’ She held a hand to her mouth, squeezing her nostrils shut at the same time.

‘Holy shit,’ said Mike, moving up behind her and quickly turning away.

They had lost Jean Transom’s body once – nature had swept it away and kept it hidden for months. And they had almost lost it a second time – to the mercy of the sun, the animals and the insects. Ren had seen bodies like this before – split-screens; one half of the body exposed to different elements than the other – one side mummified by a heater, the other turned toward a window open to the cold; a head on a pillow, a body cooking inside an electric blanket.

The left side of Jean Transom’s body lay under a fallen tree. The right side, turned away from the splintered trunk, was marbled, bloated and blistering. Her hands and fingers were curled and desiccated. One eyelid had been stripped away by birds, her eyeball pecked out. There was little flesh left on her face – the rest had been eaten, then pared back to the bone by maggots. Her teeth were exposed, her face frozen and grotesque.

Ren looked up at the sky to hold back tears. She said a silent prayer, then looked down at the body that lay at her feet.

I wish you could have been found perfectly preserved,Jean Transom.

Chapter 49 (#ulink_0460b34f-12e0-5d83-ba8d-a16be22dbc46)

Dr Tolman worked with his assistant on Jean Transom’s autopsy. Denis Lasco, Ren Bryce, Paul Louderback, Bob Gage and Todd Austerval watched, suited up, masked and wearing booties Ren had brought for everyone.

Ren hadn’t eaten for fifteen hours. Her head was spinning and the only thing that was keeping her concentrating on an empty stomach was Jean Transom, her sweet, simple life, her easy-listening CDs, her pastel shirts, her teddy bears …

‘She has an extensive tattoo,’ said Tolman.