Killing Ways

They stared each other down.

‘How about we go through the night of her disappearance again?’ said Ren. ‘And how Briar was at work for the entire evening—’

‘And out making deliveries,’ said Gary.

‘All of which he appeared to have made in a reasonable time frame,’ said Ren. ‘Unless he has a cape somewhere …’

‘That entire shift was made up of his dope-smoking, mouth-breather friends,’ said Gary.

‘And we have video to back up most of his comings and goings,’ said Ren.

‘Most,’ said Gary. ‘And they’re in over-sized jackets and baseball caps, faces not very clear …’

Grrrrr.

The meeting broke up, and everyone returned to their desks through the haze of tension. Ren fired up her computer. A rubber band flew through the air and whipped her hair off her face. She looked up. Robbie was standing in the center of the room with a wooden gun. Ren laughed.

‘Beautiful shot.’

‘Thank you,’ said Robbie, blowing imaginary smoke from the top of the barrel.

‘But you do know you are now dead,’ said Ren. ‘There’s a price on your head. Fifty per cent off.’ She slid open her drawer to take her own wooden gun out.

No ammo. Shit.

Ren’s email pinged. She glanced at it. Gary.

Subject: BP support

Oh, here we go …

Tonight. Henderson Hotel.

Control explosion.

Ren went to Gary’s office. Her fist was poised to knock on the door, until she heard his rising voice.

‘Nothing!’ said Gary. ‘Nothing is wrong, Karen! Jesus Christ, I’m going to record it on a loop.’

Gary Dettling was calm, cool, rational, in control. He could rein in any emotion … until it came to his wife. He loved that she was crazy, he hated that she was crazy, she made him crazy.

But Ren knew that in some small way, Karen Dettling was bound to have made Gary more sympathetic to Ren’s own brand of crazy.

‘No, good. Go ahead!’ said Gary. He slammed the phone down hard.

Ren let out the breath she had been holding.

Fuckity fuck.

She knocked.

‘Yes!’ said Gary.

Ren opened the door and walked in. ‘Do you have any rubber bands?’

Gary frowned. ‘Yes.’

Ren walked over to his stash. ‘Can I just say I hate these passive-aggressive emails about meetings and appointments?’

‘They’re active-aggressive,’ said Gary. ‘And I can get even more active …’

Ren grabbed a fistful of rubber bands and walked out.

Why do you even keep them in here? You asshole.

When Ren went back to the bullpen, Janine and Everett were huddled together. They looked up.

‘Was he shouting at you?’ said Everett.

‘You could hear that out here?’ said Ren. ‘No – it wasn’t me. For once.’

‘Are you coming out tonight?’ said Janine.

‘No,’ said Everett, ‘she’s checking into a facility …’

‘You may be right,’ said Ren. ‘No, Janine. I was out last night, and the night before. I think even I need a break every now and then.’

‘Well, I’m ready to strap on my drinking boots,’ said Janine.

‘As am I,’ said Everett.

‘Damn you both!’ said Ren. ‘Well, if you’re going, Janine, would you like to stay in my place? Save your drinking money.’

‘Even better, thank you,’ said Janine.

‘I will try not to be bitter,’ said Ren.

‘Robbie’s going to come too,’ said Janine.

D’oh! Everett’s face …

Only Ren noticed. And only she could see the sparkle in Janine’s eyes.

Ren sat at her desk and thought about Hope Coulson – how she hadn’t driven home, how that likely meant that she had met with someone unexpectedly, that something had changed her plans.

‘I think someone was watching Hope Coulson,’ said Ren. ‘I think she was taken from right outside the church.’

‘Like she was bundled into the back of a van?’ said Everett.