Blood Loss

‘No-one meets me for another reason,’ said Lasco.

‘Aw that’s not true,’ said Ren.

‘It’s the way I like it,’ said Lasco.

‘That’s not true either,’ said Ren.

Lasco trudged a little closer to the body.

‘Trust me it’s a dead body,’ said Bob Gage.

Lasco was known for his reluctance to commit to anything at a scene.

Bob kept talking. ‘Female, sixteen years old, photo’s been all over the newspapers recently, gunshot wound to the chest. Resulting in? The girl’s dead.’

‘I have yet to confirm her demise,’ said Lasco.

‘This is what you’re dealing with,’ said Bob to Ren.

‘What we’re dealing with is all of you dancing jigs on crime scenes,’ said Lasco. ‘Can we all please stand back? Right the way back. All of you.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said Bob. ‘We’ve done this before.’

‘With varying degrees of success,’ said Lasco. ‘And when I say success, I mean “effective evidence preservation on the part of the Sheriff’s Office”.’

Bob’s eyes flashed. He didn’t reply, but turned and retraced his steps to the trees. Ren did the same. Bob’s cell phone rang.

‘Let the shitstorm commence,’ he said, as he hit Answer.

Ren noticed a green and navy parka lying against the tree trunk beside her.

‘I’ve seen that before,’ said Ren, turning to Bob reflexively.

Bob had walked away.

Ren heard Mike Delaney’s voice behind her. ‘Yes, you have,’ he said. ‘And the owner is in his shirt a hundred yards away, minus his face.’

29

Mark Whaley was slumped against a tree trunk, with most of his skull missing. The shotgun had fallen away from his body and lay half-covered in snow. His pale blue shirt was filthy and sweat-stained. His beige pants had turned a yellow-gray and were soiled. Like Shelby Royce, he was lightly dusted with snow.

‘Please tell me Laurie Whaley isn’t around here somewhere …’ said Ren.

‘Search and Rescue is on its way,’ said Mike. ‘We’ll find her if she is.’

Bob came back to them. He stood over the body, shaking his head.

‘Murder-suicide?’ he said.

‘Looks like it,’ said Mike.

‘These big business guys,’ said Bob. ‘They just can’t help themselves. Whipping their dicks and their wallets out.’

‘Power and money, power and money,’ said Mike.

‘Beautifully put, everyone,’ said Ren.

It looks like Erica Whaley didn’t know her husband. She didn’t know him at all.

Denis Lasco appeared behind them.

Bob spoke loud: ‘Male, forty-nine years old, name of Mark Whaley, photo’s all over the newspapers. Gunshot wound to the head. Resulting in? The guy’s dead. Very cold. Ice cold, brewed in the Rocky Mountains.’

‘I will be ignoring you from now on,’ said Lasco.

Gary came up beside Ren.

‘I’m going to go with Detective Owens to notify the Royces. But I want you to go back there later today with Bob and go through Shelby Royce’s room again. It’s been searched, but it hasn’t been searched by a female.’

There was no sexism. Sometimes it did make a difference.

Ren nodded. ‘OK. Am I looking for anything in particular?’

‘Every particular,’ said Gary.

‘At least you’re taking care of the notification,’ said Ren.

‘I’ve built up a rapport with the Royces.’

Oh no. Please don’t make me.

‘You know what I’m going to ask you to do,’ said Gary.

Ren and Bob arrived at the Whaleys’ hotel room and knocked on the door. From inside, they could hear someone rush toward them. They glanced at each other. Erica Whaley unlocked the door and pulled it open. She crumpled to the floor in front of them before they had even spoken.

‘What happened?’ said Erica, already crying. ‘What happened? What happened?’

Ren crouched down beside her, and laid her hand gently on Erica’s arm. ‘Let’s take you inside, let’s get you to the sofa.’

‘Who is it?’ said Erica as Ren helped her to her feet. She clung to her. ‘Who is it? Who did you find? Is it Mark? Is it Laurie? Who is it?’

Ren’s eyes started to well.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Then the tears were gone.

‘Let’s get you sitting down, Mrs Whaley,’ said Bob. ‘Let me help you.’

When she was sitting down, Ren sat beside her. Erica gripped Ren’s hands.

‘We’ve found your husband,’ said Ren. ‘And I’m afraid the news is not good.’

Erica blinked several times. ‘Is he … is he … are you saying he’s … dead?’

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I’m afraid your husband is dead.’

‘But … but … what happened?’ said Erica.

‘We can’t say for definite until we get the coroner’s report,’ said Ren. ‘But we suspect that your husband took his own life.’

‘No,’ said Erica. ‘No, he would never do that. Mark would absolutely never do that. I know him. I know him.’ She glanced to Bob, then back at Ren. ‘Laurie! Where’s Laurie? Did you find Laurie?’

‘No, ma’am,’ said Bob. ‘But we have officers out there looking for her.’

‘I love him so much,’ said Erica. ‘Oh my God, I love him so much.’

‘I know you do,’ said Ren. ‘I know you do.’ Ren looked at Bob over Erica’s head.

Erica raised her head suddenly. ‘Shelby Royce,’ she said. ‘Did you find Shelby Royce?’

Bob Gage stepped in and told her the worst news she was ever likely to hear. Ren watched as Erica retreated somewhere so far away from this new reality that it was shocking to watch.

‘Jonathan!’ Erica cried. ‘Jonathan!’

Jonathan Meester rushed out from the bedroom. He ran to Erica. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Ren and Bob. ‘I had to take a call. I … what’s going on?’

Erica could barely speak, but managed to get out what happened.

‘No,’ said Jonathan. ‘No. This has to be a mistake. This can’t be … this is a mistake. Mark would never do this. He would never harm another living being. I’ve known him my whole life. He’d never do anything like this. And he’d never leave Erica and the kids. Never.’

Ren could hear Bob’s cell phone ring. He picked up.

‘What the-?’ he said. Pause. ‘Are you sure?’

He walked into the hallway. Ren followed.

‘You better be one hundred percent-’ Bob was saying.

Ren could hear a man raising his voice at the other end of the line: ‘Jesus, Bob. Of course I am! For Christ’s-’

Bob was already hanging up. He turned to Ren. ‘That was Mike. Gary’s on his way for you. You’re going to Denver Children’s Hospital.’

‘What’s going on?’ said Ren.