Time of Death

‘Could someone be that screwed up that they wouldn’t want to lower house prices in the area by reporting a rape – even if it was their own wife who was the victim?’

Ren shook her head. ‘Ugh.’ She walked out. She didn’t want to hear any more of Colin’s warped world view. The kitchen was empty, so she took a seat at the table.

What is it with some men? Do they get a high from lying to their wives? Do they just not care? Or is it that they’re afraid to face up to the truth?

Again her mind wandered back to Beau and the friends and neighbors who had drifted away from the family after his suicide. They were afraid of suicide, afraid of mental illness, afraid of losing their own mind or watching someone they cared about lose theirs. People looked for someone to blame for Beau’s suicide, because if there was no one to blame, then it could happen to them. People were angry at the Bryces for being guarded about the circumstances, as if – had they had heard all the details of Beau’s suicide – they could stop it from happening to their loved ones. People were afraid to talk to the Bryces about their loss because it would mean confronting someone else’s raw emotions and maybe having to face some raw emotions of their own.

It’s all about fear.

What would it be like for her parents now? They were the only ones who still lived in Catskill. They were good, kind people. And now, in their late seventies, they would be thrown into having to fight to preserve their son’s memory. Even though it was all a terrible mistake, that little idea had been implanted in people’s minds and would be hard to extract; Beau Bryce took his own life because he was guilty.

Work. Go back to something you can control.

Ren took her cup of coffee and returned to the bullpen. She stopped dead in the middle of the room.

‘Hey!’ She pointed at the television. ‘Someone – pump up the volume.’

Colin reached for the remote control.

‘The police are seeking the public’s help in locating missing Denver psychiatrist, Dr Helen Wheeler—’ Helen’s photo in the top right-hand corner of the screen…

‘Oh my God,’ said Ren.

‘What?’ said Cliff.

‘I know her.’

‘Yeah, you’re obviously her best client,’ said Colin.

If you only knew. ‘She’s a friend of mine. I consulted with her on cases a few times, actually. She’s a lovely woman. Shhh.’

‘Dr Wheeler was last seen as she left work four days ago on March eighth. She was due to speak at an event in Florida on March ninth, but she didn’t catch her flight that morning. Dr Wheeler is sixty-two years old, five-foot three, of medium build, with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in a full-length dark-gray coat over a pale gray wool pant suit.’

Ren felt her stomach sink. That was what she was wearing the last time I saw her.

Ren dialed Helen’s cell phone as she stood there. It was the only thing she could think of doing. She got voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.

Please be safe, wherever you are.

Two hours later, Ren called Helen’s office and spoke with her secretary. There was no update. Helen had been gone four days, that was all anyone knew.

Ren tried to work, but she was flooded with images of Beau. And worried about her parents. And wishing she could discuss it all with Helen, the one person who always managed to break the cycle. Ren felt a stab of selfishness at wanting Helen to be back to help her.

Helen wouldn’t take off and desert her patients. Helen Wheeler was sane. She was responsible. But then again, everyone thinks the same about me…OK, not everyone. But still…

Ren’s cell phone rang and she recognized the special ring tone for Matt. Work and Matt – the only calls guaranteed to get picked up.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘What the hell’s going on with the Parrys?’

‘I know. It’s nuts. I called Daryl Stroud – he’s a lieutenant now, can you believe it? – and he’s taking it seriously. Going by the book.’

‘You have to be shitting me.’

‘Nope. I cannot understand all this. It’s insane.’

‘Mom was saying something about cards in Rikers. Some playing card belonging to Louis—’

‘She had it all wrong. They’re cold-case cards, given to inmates to elicit tip-offs – I explained all that to her.’

‘She’s definitely not all there at the moment.’

‘While at other times…’

Matt laughed. It was short-lived. ‘This is so surreal. How does it all work?’

‘Catskill PD will investigate it, they have to. All we can do is sit back and wait for them to get a grip.’

‘But…who would have sent them our way? I can’t imagine some big inmate in Rikers saying, “Beau Bryce – that’s the guy you need to look at”.’

‘The tip’s not necessarily from Rikers,’ said Ren. ‘Those cards get posted online too – for years, in some cases – on missing persons websites. I mean, families will always want to know what happened to a missing or murdered loved one, so they’re happy to have the details plastered everywhere they can. Just about anyone could have called in the tip. It could be a timing coincidence that the cards came out this month. It could have been the publicity done on the release of the cards that prompted someone to call.’

‘What does Daryl think?’

‘That I’m an arrogant bitch. And that telling me he would treat it the same as any other investigation was going to reassure me. Yeah, right: “Great job on finding that stolen bicycle, Daryl, please apply those same skills to finding the guy who thinks my dead brother is a child killer.”’

‘Daryl’s one of the good guys, though?’

‘He is,’ said Ren. ‘I’m just being an arrogant bitch.’

‘No you’re not – everything you’ve said is what I was thinking.’

‘Has Mom talked to the Parrys?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, thank God. Stop her, could you? Because I already called Ricky—’

‘You did not.’

‘I had to, Matt. He’s the only one who could enlighten me…which he did not. In fact, he ended the conversation with “Why would Beau have killed himself if he wasn’t guilty?”’

‘Has he lost his mind? Am I missing something here? When did he go to the dark side? There I was, thinking he would be as upset as we were.’

‘Oh no,’ said Ren. ‘He’s probably just…I don’t know. Exhausted, at this stage. Quick to grab on to anything. I don’t know.’

‘It can’t have been easy for Ricky. God forgive me, but I think all the genetic blessings went to Louis—’

‘Like me in our family—’

‘As I was saying…’ said Matt. ‘You know what I mean: Louis got the cute looks, the musical talent…and he was such a delicate little thing. Ricky was this chubby—’

‘Louis was the piece of china, Ricky was the bull.’

‘Yes, Ren, yes. Anyway, look, there we are. The Parrys had their albatross with Louis and we had ours with Beau. Not to sound harsh—’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘At least we know what happened to Beau, however terrible that is. The Parrys might never know what happened to Louis.’

‘They definitely won’t know if they’re looking in our house for answers.’

Matt let out a breath. ‘Ren, I’m going to be devil’s advocate here. Or, rather, I’m going to tip-toe across the