Killing Ways. Alex Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ time to look. Devin was a smart and bubbly young student who lived across the street from Annie, and adored Misty as much as Ren and Janine did.

      ‘If you need anything, just ring my bell,’ said Lorrie. ‘I’m 28A.’

      ‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you.’

       Never gonna happen.

      Ren took the elevator alone to the fifth floor. She unlocked the door to her apartment, and went in, hit with the smell of paint.

       At least I have fresh new walls. There are positives.

      She dropped her briefcase in the hallway and went to the kitchen. She took out a St Émilion red, uncorked it, poured a glass. She opened the refrigerator. There was a bag of arugula, a block of parmesan, some fillet steak.

       Not hungry enough to make great effort.

      She threw together a salad of arugula and parmesan, cracked some black pepper over it, soaked it in balsamic vinegar and a dash of olive oil and sat back on the sofa to eat.

      Her phone beeped with a text from her boyfriend. She had been going out with Ben Rader for ten months. He was an FBI Agent in D.C., keen to make a bigger commitment than Ren was willing to. She had deflected his offer to look for a transfer to Denver so they could move in together. He hadn’t even made the suggestion that she move to D.C. But she loved him, and he loved her. It was only the lying about the meds that stood between them. One giant pharmaceutical wall.

      Ren ate half the salad before she set it aside. She pulled a bright red cushion onto her lap, set her laptop on it and opened Hope Coulson’s Facebook account. She spent over an hour going through it. She was struck by one thing: Hope always posted photos from her nights out, throughout the night, and always commented on the event the following day: Blast in XYZ bar with m’girls! or Me&J in XYZ’s. Except for one Friday night, two weeks before she went missing.

       Hmm. Why the deviation?

      That day, Facebook showed that Hope Coulson went for a late lunch with her girlfriends for one of their birthdays, and posted photos over the course of the afternoon. The next photo uploaded was at 7 p.m., taken in a sports bar – a loved-up selfie with Jonathan. The next photo, in a different bar, was taken at 10 p.m. and was just of Jonathan. And that was it; no comment on the night the following day. And the next post was on Monday afternoon, when she had finished work.

       Something about that isn’t right. She was drinking at lunch, kept going when she went to meet Jonathan, didn’t appear in a photo herself. Because she was too drunk? She had a kindergarten-teacher reputation to uphold. Or maybe something happened. Did they have a fight? Maybe whatever happened that night sent her into hiding the following day. Maybe the night was not a night worth writing about for whatever reason …

      Ren put down the glass of wine.

      She texted Janine. FOMO. Fear of Missing Out.

      She got a text right back: You know where to find me. Robbie left early on. Everett just gone . . .

      Four hours later, Ren was leaning into the mirror in the ladies’ room of Gaffney’s, her makeup bag open on the wet tiles.

       Why can’t there be raised shelves away from the sinks? How hard can that be, people?

      Janine arrived, passing two girls who had been taking selfies together before they left.

      ‘I’m so old,’ said Ren. ‘The idea of constantly updating social media when I’m trying to get hammered is hellish. I hate even being around people who do that. Relax, everyone. And get the fuck out of my face.’

      ‘I know,’ said Janine. ‘But at least it helps us do our job … suckers!’

      ‘Speaking of which – Hope Coulson was out two weeks before she went missing, then thirty-six hours disappeared into a black social media hole, which was not her style. I’m just wondering, did something happen? And we know I don’t like to wonder for too long. I like to go out there and find the fuck out.’ She ran her finger under each eye to tidy up her mascara. ‘I need to speak with Briar again.’

      ‘You heard he’s lawyered up, though …’

      Ren turned to her.

      ‘Oh, I know that face,’ said Janine. ‘Don’t go there without the lawyer.’

      ‘I just have a couple of tiny questions …’

      ‘Oh, they’re cool with the tiny ones … phew.’

      ‘But I don’t think he’s a suspect,’ said Ren.

      ‘Not the point. Don’t risk it. Gary will go apeshit. And speaking of risking shit, whatever you’re about to do here, don’t.’

      ‘I was about to put some lip gloss on,’ said Ren. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

      ‘You know what I mean,’ said Janine. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you and that guy out there, but …’

      ‘I’m fine,’ said Ren. ‘Don’t worry. I have zero interest in him.’

      ‘Hmm. I’m not sure he feels the same way.’

      ‘That’s his problem.’

      Janine studied her in the mirror.

      ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ said Ren. ‘The guy’s not even drinking.’

      ‘I don’t think a man needs to be drinking to make a move on you,’ said Janine. She paused. ‘Anyhoo, I think I’m about ready to call it a night.’

      ‘Noooo,’ said Ren.

      Janine nodded. ‘I’m exhausted. Do you mind?’

      ‘No, but I’m wiiide awake – do you mind if I stay?’

      ‘Not at all,’ said Janine. ‘I’ll see you back at the ranch.’ She hugged Ren, and pulled back. ‘I know Gary’s not actually here, but you seem to be in his crosshairs. I’m not sure it’s to do with all this partying, but—’

      ‘Fuck Gary!’

       6

      Ren was dancing hard and fast, bright-eyed and soaring, wild of heart and intentions. The people around her were happy and free and smiling and a reflection of her. They moved together, buoyant and powerful. Two guys joined her on the dance floor – one in front, one behind.

       I may be old enough to be the front guy’s mother. He has no clue. Or does he?

      He was smiling at her with his gorgeous, perfect teeth.

      Ren smiled back.

       Boom-boom-BOOM. Boom-boom-BOOM. Boom-boom-BOOOOOM.

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