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

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter 21

      Robbie dropped Ren at her house in Golden.

      ‘I won’t park in the driveway,’ said Robbie. ‘In case …’

      ‘In case what?’

      ‘Vincent might think … you and me …’

      ‘He knows me better than that,’ said Ren, too quickly. ‘What I mean is … he knows I wouldn’t run from him directly into the arms of another – albeit handsome – younger man.’

      ‘Your Jeep is looking very nice and shiny,’ said Robbie.

      ‘It is,’ said Ren. ‘I better head in. You can come with me if you like.’

      He glanced at her. She was half-smiling.

      ‘I don’t think there’ll be any reunion,’ said Ren.

      ‘I really like Vincent,’ said Robbie. ‘I approved of Vincent.’

      Ren smiled and patted him on the leg. ‘Thanks for the ride. See you back in Breck. I won’t be long.’

      Vincent came to the door barefoot and dressed in sweats. He had a bottle of Bud in his hand.

      ‘Hi,’ said Ren.

      ‘Hi.’

      ‘You’re drinking early.’

      ‘Well, it’s later than when I started …’

      ‘And when was that?’ said Ren.

      Vincent shrugged, slowly.

      ‘I … just dropped by for the Jeep and to pick up some stuff. Did you know it is almost impossible to find any nice underwear in Breckenridge?’

      ‘I did not,’ said Vincent.

      ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘It looks like I’ll be staying in Breck for the next while – which might make things a little easier.’

      ‘How do you figure that?’

      ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Give me a break.’ Her tone was gentle.

      ‘Why should I?’ said Vincent.

      ‘I’m not here for long, OK? I don’t want to get into anything.’

      ‘What’s going on?’

      ‘We’ve got a dead agent up there.’

      ‘I meant with us. But shit – who?’

      ‘Jean Transom. She worked out of Glenwood. Nice woman, according to everyone; great agent. No one knows what happened.’

      ‘Was it homicide?’

      ‘Yup. And the body’s gone.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘In that avalanche.’

      ‘I saw it on the news.’

      Ren nodded. ‘So, it’s all snowstorms and shit-storms. And I’m leading the case.’

      ‘Good for you.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      She looked past him. ‘Can I come in?’

      ‘Sure. Sorry.’ He stepped back.

      Ren walked past the kitchen and saw a pile of empty beer bottles on the floor and a bumper bottle of Advil, cap off, on the counter above them. What have I done to poor Vincent? She couldn’t look at him. She went quickly upstairs, gathered more than she needed, packed it into one of his nice suitcases and dragged it down to the hallway. Vincent was knocking back his beer and smiling sadly at her.

      ‘You know, some day, Ren? All those negative emotions you run away from will pick up the pace and they’ll catch up.’

      Ren shrugged. ‘If they haven’t yet …’

      ‘They will. I shouldn’t care, but I do.’

      ‘Look, I’m about to work an important –’

      ‘You need to work on yourself.’

      Ren rolled her eyes. ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Christ, how can you take responsibility in work like that and, like, absolutely none in your personal life?’

      ‘That’s not true and you know it. It just feels true to you right now.’

      ‘It is true.’

      ‘Whatever. You love holding things over me, don’t you? You’re all stable and reliable, and I’m on the run from shit.’

      ‘You’re the only person I know who says “whatever” and then keeps on defending themselves. Most people say “whatever” and they mean “whatever”. They mean “whatever you think”, so they don’t bother saying any more.’

      ‘Jesus, you are anal. You try to shut me up based on linguistics? You think that’s going to work?’

      ‘Oh Lord, no. Nothing works with you. Nothing.’

      Ren stared at him, her eyes alight.

      ‘So, do you think you’re better off without me?’ said Vincent.

      ‘What do you want me to say to that?’ said Ren. ‘No answer is good. I’m fine, OK?’

      ‘I know I shouldn’t, and I don’t really want to, actually, but I care about you, Ren. So much.’ He touched a hand to her cheek.

      She looked into his eyes and could feel hers well up too. ‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Shit.’

      ‘Hey, at least you’re having an emotion,’ said Vincent.

      * * *

      Salem Swade looked like he’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel he had no recollection of going into; it was in the angles of his thin gray hair, the speed of his blinks, how he spun on his heels.

      He stood, dressed in a giant green parka, gray cotton pants and leg-warmers, with the smoking attorneys outside the Sheriff’s Office. He had watercolor-blue eyes that should have been called striking or beautiful, but on a disheveled old man, talking and walking alone down Main Street, people looked at them like they were stolen.

      ‘You dudes are slaves,’ said Salem, smiling.

      The attorneys СКАЧАТЬ