Blood Loss

‘My resentment, I can at least direct at Gary,’ said Ren.

‘Yup,’ said Paul. ‘Rest is for … other people.’

‘Not pussies, then?’ said Ren.

He smiled. ‘Can I join you?’

‘Of course you can,’ said Ren. Whose bed am I supposed to be in?

‘Can I get you a coffee?’

‘The least you could do for beating me to the suite at The Firelight?’ said Ren. ‘I’m presuming it was you.’

‘Guilty.’

‘Damn you.’

‘Did you get a room there at least?’ said Paul.

‘Yes,’ said Ren.

‘Well, that’s something …’

Something … what? ‘I’m still working on this,’ she said, pointing to her coffee. ‘Take a seat. Where are the other CARD shufflers?’

‘Shuffling in a less cozy setting. Two of them will be with the Merritts at their hotel in case anyone calls.’ He paused. ‘I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad you’re here.’

Stop. Stop. Stop. ‘Me too.’

Four hours, six espressos, and twenty-five pages of notes later, Ren laid down her pen. Opposite her, Paul had his head buried in a file folder. She looked around and realized that The Crown had really filled up since they had arrived. She watched parents watching their children. By the counter, a stack of newspapers showed the faces of two girls whose parents cared for them no less, but who, through an unknown series of events, for reasons Ren was trying to uncover, had vanished.

Families came to Breckenridge for fresh air, for powdery snow, for warm drinks and hot fires. They came for their breath to be taken by the stark outline of four Rocky Mountain Peaks against the night sky, not by the stark truth of the fragility of happiness, or security, or life.

‘Out of curiosity,’ said Ren, ‘why didn’t you let me know you were in Denver?’

Paul looked up at her. ‘Abject fear.’

‘Thought as much …’ said Ren.

‘OK, honestly?’ said Paul. ‘You’re terrible company. And very hard on the eye.’

‘True,’ said Ren.

After a long silence, Paul spoke. ‘The fear part is true …’ he said. ‘I was afraid that you’d drawn a line under us the last time.’

Yes — a lasting line, like a line drawn on a steamed-up mirror. She had a flash of Ben Rader in her shower.

‘Whatever “us” means,’ said Paul.

Us means you and your wife and me and … deep breath … Ben Rader … maybe … I don’t know. Or you and me. And never to be.

22

Ren left Paul Louderback and walked down the steps of The Crown. Under the twinkle of fairy lights, she could see posters of Shelby and Laurie taped onto lamp-posts and in store windows. She got into the Jeep and called Matt on the short drive to The Firelight Inn.

‘I think I would have to be electrocuted or strangled by a string of fairy lights to ever fall out of love with them,’ said Ren.

‘Good to know,’ said Matt. ‘Should I add this information to your existing instructions for your funeral?’

‘Ooh — yes,’ said Ren. ‘Good idea.’

‘Maybe the priest could wear them.’

‘Speaking of dying,’ said Ren. ‘Or nearly dying … I’m in Breck and guess who shows up?’

‘Too tired. Tell me.’

‘Paul. Paul Louderback.’

Matt paused. ‘The PT instructor guy? The married guy?’

‘Yup,’ said Ren.

‘Oh, no,’ said Matt. ‘Where did he come from?’

‘D.C. And what do you mean “oh no”?’

‘Just … you could do without the complication.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Ren.

‘Why is he there?’ said Matt.

‘To mess with my head,’ said Ren. ‘This is all about me … obviously.’

‘And … how was it?’ said Matt.

‘You’d think I’d be over him by now …’

‘You are over him,’ said Matt. ‘This is just a little dramz. And you like the dramz.’

‘I do. But, it was a little … bam!’

‘Didn’t you sort this all out the last time?’ said Matt. ‘Didn’t you decide-’

‘Yes, yes, I know.’

‘Well, then. You’ve had the conversation. Don’t go back. And what about the new guy?’

‘I know. I know,’ said Ren. ‘But I can’t help how I feel. How I felt when I saw Paul.’

‘You can’t help how you feel, but you can help what you do about how you feel.’

‘I know, but … I’m not great at helping myself,’ said Ren.

‘Paul Louderback is — let’s not forget — married,’ said Matt.

‘I know,’ said Ren.

‘You said yourself you wouldn’t go near a married man.’

‘But I still have feelings for him …’

‘And so the cycle goes,’ said Matt.

‘What-’

‘Ren? Just get off the bike.’

Ren took the next turn onto French Street. A Missing poster for Shelby Royce was pinned to a tree and looked almost fluorescent in the glaring white light of a street lamp.

‘Oh my God, Matt,’ said Ren. ‘I gotta go.’

The poster was just like the other ones lined along the street. Except this one had something extra. Across her pretty face, someone had scrawled: WHORE.

Ren pulled in to the curb. She grabbed an envelope from her bag, put on her gloves, and got out of the Jeep. She took a photo of the poster with her phone, unpinned it, and put the paper and pins into the envelope.

What kind of sick bastard …

Ren checked the clock. She was due back to work in less than an hour. She turned the Jeep around and drove back to the office.

No point sleeping now.

Gary looked up as Ren walked in, then glanced at the clock.

What are you, the fucking slumber police?

‘Hi,’ said Ren. She sat at her desk, then realized that Paul Louderback was sitting two desks away.

‘Am I in some time-space continuum?’ she said.

‘I didn’t have a bed-time,’ he said. ‘Did you go back to the Inn?’

‘Shh,’ said Ren. ‘Of course I did.’

He smiled.