‘I apologize. But damn you. I’m mad as hell.’ He stopped. ‘And tell me about Erubiel Diaz,’ said Gary. ‘The guy shows up in hospital almost debilitated with no marks except for abrasions to the inner thighs and knees. His statement says, “Some guy jumped on me, poked me in the neck and the face, did some weird shit to my stomach and my privates …”’
Ren slowed, then stopped. ‘Hmm. Offhand? Sounds to me like Erubiel Diaz was loitering in the parking lot of the Brockton Filly with intent. He may have been wearing baggy work-out pants to conceal a Velcro-fastening groin guard. I would guess that an unsporting man like Mr Diaz would be wearing such protection only because he intended to rape a woman – a slight-looking, though deceptively strong brunette – who he expected to instinctively go for his “privates” to fend him off: his genital area would be covered, yet quickly exposed when he needed it to be. Which is why, in fact, the FBI trains us to collapse the knee of an assailant, so his own weight can be used as a weapon against him. Which leads me back to Mr Diaz. I’m guessing he received a downward kick to the left knee, which felled him. I believe his mention of “being poked” is related to pressure point jabs to the neck and face. Ouch. As for the abrasions to his inner thighs, it sounds to me like his groin guard was forcibly removed – to reveal a tiny penis – by either the woman he tried to attack or the “man” he says jumped on him …’
Gary rubbed his face. ‘Jesus Christ Almighty.’
‘The attacker at least drove him to the hospital, while avoiding the security cameras.’
‘Lucky for us, Mr Diaz does not want to press charges,’ said Gary.
‘And who would he press charges against?’
Gary shook his head. ‘Jesus Christ, is all I can say.’
They walked on in silence.
‘Don’t you feel bad when they talk like that, Warwick and Monahan?’ said Ren. ‘When they think all UCEs get really close to the bad guys? I’m like, shit, I’m not actually getting too tied up with these dirtbags. I couldn’t give a shit about them.’
He looked at her like she was nuts. ‘And then there’s little Gavino Val Pando …’
That night, Ren sat on the sofa in her suite, reading the same trash she’d tried to read the last time. There was a knock on the internal door that led down to the hot tub.
‘Ren?’
‘Yes.’ She started to get up.
‘It’s Billy.’
She walked to the door and opened it.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Of course you can.’
‘I’m sorry. I thought the outside door would be watched.’
‘I’m not that important,’ she said, smiling.
‘Maybe they think I am,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what they think now.’
They sat on opposite ends of the sofa.
They talked their way around all the questions they wanted to ask each other. They let the same playlist play on a loop – plaintive music, beautiful lyrics. There was a sweet, awkward silence.
‘Billy,’ said Ren, ‘this is terrible and I don’t know how to say it … but I guess I owe it to you. I know it’s not right, but I guess, I’ve wondered all along if you were …’
He waited. ‘Say it.’
‘Playing me.’
Billy frowned. ‘What, like I had other chicks on the –’
‘Well, that too, if I’m honest,’ said Ren. ‘But no – just that maybe you wanted something else from me. An FBI agent to, you know, cover your …’
She was not prepared for the hurt in his face.
He turned away, shaking his head slowly. ‘But, I’ve never even … why would you think that?’
‘I …’
‘Paranoia,’ he answered for her.
‘But look at how you came to be what you are …’
‘What the hell does that mean?’ He stood up.
‘Well … drugs. Dealing. And wire taps. And codes. I’m sorry, but what do you expect?’
‘Shit, I don’t know – that someone who fucks me might give a shit. Might, maybe, trust me.’
‘
‘Don’t go there,’ said Billy. ‘Don’t get all Little Miss Shocked, so you can throw this back at me. You can
She raised her head.
‘Do you want to know what you really saw hiding behind my eyes? I’ll tell you the truth, Ren. If you can handle it.’
‘OK. I like the truth.’
He smiled. ‘I know that. So here it is. You looked at me and what you saw was … fear.’ He let out a breath. ‘Because I always knew you would go.’
Ren opened her mouth. ‘But –’
‘I felt like you were on loan to me,’ said Billy. ‘It was like driving a Maserati on vacation across some exotic country.’ He let out a breath. ‘But no one can be on vacation forever.’
A tear fell down Ren’s cheek.
‘I’ve nothing to lose here,’ said Billy. ‘So I want you to know that I …’
She held her hand to his lips. ‘Don’t love me, Billy. Please don’t. I can’t handle it.’
‘Hey, neither can I. I’m like those women who write to Jeffrey Dahmer.’
Ren laughed loud. ‘
Billy smiled. ‘I
‘Thank you,’ said Ren.
‘So stop beating yourself up,’ he said.
‘You are wonderful, Billy. Fuck the drugs, the violence …’
He smiled.
‘You put up with a lot of shit to be with me,’ said Ren.
‘I saw
‘I really wish I didn’t associate you with something I shouldn’t be doing,’ said Ren. ‘I wish you never came mixed with guilt and worry and secrets. It breaks my heart. But I can’t change that. All I can do is tell you that …’
‘That …’
‘I loved you, Billy. As much as I could.’ Tears streamed down her face.
‘Thank you,’ said Billy. ‘You’ve been the best vacation I’ve ever had.’
‘And you’ve given me the best hotels.’
67
The summer rain in Denver always emptied quickly and heavily from black clouds. Ren ran from the Jeep into the old red-brick building, ten minutes late for her appointment. She was dressed in a pink tracksuit, no makeup.
There was no one at the reception desk. The waiting room was empty, the tables scattered with obscure magazines on crafts and interiors. Ren picked one up – how to liven up denim with prints of the Great Masters. There was a small photo on the cover of a girl with the
