Time of Death

Louis and a few of his other students with us, but they didn’t all have the money and Mom and Dad couldn’t afford to pay for everyone.’

Daryl’s silences were getting noisy. ‘Ren, if I go ahead and this is another—’

‘I will not keep bothering you about this, Daryl, I promise. Remember, I am desperate. I admit it. More than anything in this world right now, I want Beau to have the untarnished memory he deserves. Sure, who cares what other people think? But this is an exception for me. I do care. He was my wonderful, gorgeous, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly brother. And my parents are devastated.’

‘I know,’ said Daryl. ‘I’ve seen them. Your father…has aged. And your mother is well, trying to put on a brave face. Jay’s been checking in with us a lot…’

‘What?’

‘Yes. He’s a good guy, Jay. He got very emotional on one particular visit.’

Well, holy shit. ‘He…visited?’

‘Yes. Mainly phone calls, but he visited that one time.’

‘Wow…you must be having Bryce overload.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Daryl. ‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. It’s just…I can’t bear to think of the Parrys’ agony. I mean, terrible as it was, at least we all know what happened to Beau. To lose a child and not know – I couldn’t cope with that. You might as well write off your entire life from that point on.’

‘OK…let me go check out a few things,’ said Daryl. ‘I appreciate you calling. You could…have taken care of this yourself.’ He paused. ‘But I’m sure you’re very busy with the—’

‘It’s not that I’m too busy, Daryl. It’s your investigation.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’ve nothing to thank me for. Best of luck with it.’

51

There was no point in trying to grab any more sleep. And right now, Ren did not want to sleep. Mania is fuelled by sleep deprivation. And bipolar people like mania. It’s the party part.

I get so much more done.

Bipolar self-medication covered anything from coffee to Coors to Coke to coke. Few bipolar people would admit wanting to kick mania into action. No therapist would recommend it. Unless they’d experienced what mania really is – living the best, most productive day of your life on a loop. It’s when the world is an incredible place, no matter what shit is going on in your life or in someone else’s life, no matter what part you played in any of it. Bipolar people can fiddle while Rome burns.

Until they wake up one morning and wish they had never been born. They’ve spent a thousand dollars, slept with a string of strangers, alienated everyone who has ever cared about them…until the next time. But the low is like the pain of childbirth; by the time mania comes around again, you’ve forgotten the depth of the low that will follow. You kid yourself – this time, the high won’t end; this time will be painless.

Ren drank a pot of coffee and could feel the hyper-alertness kick in.

Bring it on.

She started to think about Mia Hammond and how her world was about to be turned upside down…again. Her entire life had been defined by her parents’ actions and their consequences. Mia Hammond was like a ball in a pinball machine, an innocent party, still not free from being shunted around, almost thirty years later. And it was about to get worse.

Ren frowned. Where was Mia Hammond when Peter Everett was screwing her mother? Would Trudie Hammond have just left her asleep with no guarantee that she wouldn’t wake up? What did cheating parents do? Would they have sex in the room where their kids slept?

Peter Everett hadn’t mentioned Mia. Was he too ashamed to say that a two-year-old child walked in on them? Or was there all along? Was that what pushed Douglas Hammond over the edge?

Ren dialed Mia Hammond’s number.

‘Mia, hi, it’s Ren Bryce. I need your help. It’s about your parents. Can you answer something for me?’

‘I guess.’

‘You were there the day that your mother…died. But you didn’t wake up until the police got there.’

‘Yes…’

‘Did your mom look after you full time?’

‘I guess so.’

‘You don’t know for sure?’

‘Well, I know I had a nanny for the rest of my childhood. Because Daddy was alone. He worked.’

‘Did you have grandparents near by?’

‘No. Why?’

I have a hard time believing you slept through everything. ‘Just asking,’ said Ren. ‘I’m sorry for bothering you.’

Ren called Billy on her way to the office and arranged to meet him after work for alcohol and moral support.

When she got to her desk, the phone was ringing.

‘Ren, it’s Daryl. We looked at the orchestra. There were three other missing children corresponding to towns they were playing over the eight months they were in the country.’

‘Holy shit.’

‘I know. And here’s where you come in – I could try and get in touch with the authorities in the Czech Republic, but I think you’d be able to turn it around quicker.’

‘That’s no problem,’ said Ren. ‘I’ll get on the phone, right away. Thank you. I’ll keep you posted.’

Please let this be it.

The rest of Ren’s day passed in a haze of trying to avoid every case she was supposed to be working on. Every time Gary came into the room, her heart started to pound. She expected to be brought into his office and fired because he had just watched a copy of the DVD. Her nerves were jangled, her veins pumping coffee and all the other caffeine-filled liquids she could suck through a straw. She could not get out of work quick enough.

Billy Waites was waiting for her in a bar on Larimer Street. She told him about Ricky Parry. She told him about Peter Everett. But even Billy could not be told about Javier Luis or James Laker. She could not bear to say those giant failures out loud. She looked at him.

You will think you are another mistake I made. And you’re not. And the circumstances were different. And I was trying to rescue Gavino Val Pando at the time, but it may not look that way. I am flawed. And I know you know that. But if I say any more out loud, I will fall apart.

Billy handed her a box.

‘Hello,’ said Ren. ‘What’s this? Can I open it?’

‘No.’

Ren smiled and opened it. It was a wooden circle, the size of a dinner plate, with circular grooves carved into it that all led to a central point shaped like a flower with six petals. She frowned. ‘It’s a labyrinth.’

‘Yes,’ said Billy. He took a packet of sand out of his pocket and began filling all the grooves with it. ‘It’s from Chartres. In France. It’s a replica of a labyrinth that’s on the floor of the cathedral there.’

‘So it has no hedges, at least,’ said Ren.

‘No. What you do is you walk all the way around it and then you come up the middle—’

‘Like Trivial Pursuit…’

‘Yeah, Ren. Sure. And when you come to the central area, you go into each of those six little petal things and you pray about something that you are grateful for.’

Ren smiled. ‘That’s beautiful.’