Blood Runs Cold

jeans. Jesus Christ.

A grim-faced woman came out from the room behind the desk. Ren had a small flash of irritation. She was replacing the regular receptionist, the one that could make Ren feel better just by her presence.

‘Who are you here to see?’ said the woman, without bothering to look up. There were two offices off the waiting area – dermatologist and psychiatrist.

Breakouts/breakdowns.

‘Dr Helen Wheeler,’ said Ren.

‘Pardon me?’

‘Dr Helen Wheeler.’

The woman finally looked up. ‘Oh. Dr Wheeler’s gone for the evening.’

‘I … are you sure? I really need to see her. I …’ … don’t think I will make it through the night.

The woman gave her a God-bless-the-mentally-ill smile.

Bad sparks flew.

‘Hey, Ren,’ said Helen, walking into the waiting room.

Ren glanced at the receptionist and back at Helen. ‘Hi, Helen. Sorry I’m late.’

Helen led her into the office and closed the door. ‘Well … finally you make it back in to me.’

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Being forced by Gary Dettling had nothing to do with it …’

Helen smiled. ‘Well, whatever it takes, I guess. Sit down. How are you holding up?’

Ren didn’t speak.

‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’ said Helen.

‘No,’ said Ren, drawing out the vowel.

‘That’s OK,’ said Helen.

‘Agent in not-talking-about-shooting shocker.’

‘Yes,’ said Helen. ‘I may have come across that before.’

‘But you’ve broken them all down, right? Every time.’

Helen smiled. ‘You bet.’

They sat in silence for twenty minutes.

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘I left Vincent. I left Billy. I was faced with the failure of a massive investigation. A long-dead case, responsible for me almost losing my mind, has come back to haunt me. I miss Vincent. I cannot believe what happened to Jean Transom. I can’t believe there are people out there who do that kind of shit. And I can’t believe how easy it is for me not to have a flicker of emotion about any of it.’ She burst into tears.

Helen let her cry. She handed her a Kleenex. She didn’t watch the clock.

‘I … I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘I …’

‘Don’t be,’ said Helen.

‘I feel like everything is falling apart.’

‘Why do you feel that?’

‘Everyone who comes near me is hurt or dies. ’

‘Ren,’ said Helen gently, ‘that is not true.’

‘It is. I ruin everything. I drag people down.’

Ren cried harder.

‘I understand how it could appear that way right now,’ said Helen. ‘You’ve been through a lot. And you probably have been running on empty for quite some time.’

Ren nodded.

‘You have done a great job, Ren. You set out to solve this case. And you achieved that. And you solved another case that you weren’t even assigned to.’

‘Yeah, because that’s professional, getting sidetracked.’

‘Ren, everyone gets sidetracked at work. We just don’t all end up arresting people as a result.’

Ren laughed. ‘I need another Kleenex.’

Helen handed her one. ‘You can’t keep beating yourself up.’

‘Watch me.’

‘I don’t want to. I want you to get better. Maybe we need to take a look at how you’ve been.’

Ren stared at the floor. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Do you think you may have felt your trust slipping away?’

‘I’m an FBI agent,’ said Ren, deadpan.

Helen smiled, ‘Seriously.’

‘I’m not paranoid, OK? People were out to get me …’

‘Everyone? Were they? Didn’t you express concerns about Paul, Billy, even Vincent at one point …’

‘But they were all hiding things.’

‘They weren’t out to get you, though. There was no big conspiracy to wreck your career or your life.’

‘Yeah, well, sometimes it didn’t feel that way.’

‘I understand that.’

‘Don’t I need to be a little paranoid to do my job?’ said Ren.

‘Maybe, but in the rest of your life? No. And they’re all tied up together. Can you see that?’

‘Anyway,’ said Ren, ‘everyone has two sides. Jean Transom: two people. Malcolm Wardwell: two people. Jason Wardwell, Billy Waites, Paul Louderback …’

‘I don’t know who all those people are, but …’

‘I’ll take myself as I am and –’

‘Yes – sometimes you’re so happy you’ll explode and then … the dark side. Can you see how that brings you down?’

‘I’m on an even keel right now.’

Helen looked at her.

‘I am. Stop. I’m fine.’ Tears flowed down her face.

‘There’s no middle ground for you, Ren. Can you see that?’

‘Stop asking me can I see things.’

‘Either someone loves you or hates you,’ said Helen. ‘There’s no room for someone just to be annoyed at you. Or to maybe be frustrated. Most people operate somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, not at either end, Ren.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s why it’s called bi-polar …’ Shit.

Helen waited.

‘Ren, you know you have a condition …

‘Ah,’ said Ren, ‘that explains why I never getunconditional love.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve got to go. Thank you.’

Helen slid back in her chair and stood up. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I will be,’ said Ren. She pointed at the prescription pad and the pen in Helen’s hand. ‘I don’t want meds right now. But I promise I’ll come back if I do. And I give you my permission to call Gary and check in with him. And whatever he says, I’ll go along with that.’

Helen paused. ‘OK, Ren. I’m going to go with you on this.’

‘Thank you. And don’t worry – I have a plan.’ She smiled. ‘Like most lunatics.’

Helen smiled. ‘What kind of plan?’

‘To meet up with a friend. So I can be the one who takes care of someone for a change.’

68

Ren drove through Clear Creek County and thought of the crooked man ripped apart and discarded in the river. Domenica Val Pando had gone to his family, taken his mother’s hands in hers and promised them she would