Blood Loss

returned safe,’ said Colin. ‘The end.’

Gary stared at him. ‘Colin, I’d like you to go to the autopsies with Ren, Robbie and Bob.’

‘But-’ said Colin.

‘It matters what happened in that room,’ said Gary.

Colin’s jaw twitched.

You can’t hide behind your computer screen now, you dickhead.

32

Taber Grace still had the client file. It was fatter than it used to be. For days it had been like a lump lodged in his throat. Now it was sitting on top of his shredder, where he stockpiled papers until he could bear the sound of the motor grinding through secrets. Or when he needed a little more time to think about whether he really wanted to make something disappear.

He checked his phone. There were seven missed calls from Melissa. And five messages.

‘It’s me. We need to talk.’

‘Tabe, where are you?’

‘Taber, wherever you are, please call.’

‘Call me, please. I’m starting to get worried.’

‘Taber, it’s Melissa again, I don’t care if you can’t talk right now, but just let me know you’re OK. Just send me a text …’

He called her. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

‘Thank God,’ said Melissa. ‘I was worried. So was TJ.’

‘I texted TJ. He’s fine.’

‘Well, TJ and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms …’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Missy. He’ll come around.’

‘I just wanted to know that you’re alive. You’ve kinda disappeared since … everything. I was afraid you’d never want to talk to me again.’

‘No,’ said Taber. ‘No.’

‘I was worried about you.’

‘There’s no need, but thanks for your concern.’

‘OK … thanks for letting me know,’ said Melissa. ‘Thanks for calling.’

‘Take care.’

‘You too.’

Taber Grace closed his eyes and the scene in the kitchen kicked off again, like a movie, the images even tinted and sharpened, the voices like surround-sound.

Taber Grace had locked himself away since he walked out on Melissa and TJ that morning, sitting at his laptop, reading about what Cerxus had done to the children it had been prescribed to: some had attempted suicide, others had violent outbursts, some had complete personality changes. Melissa was right — Cerxus was still on sale. The makers, Lang Pharmaceuticals, had just put a black-box warning on the insert saying that it could cause suicidal thoughts and psychotic episodes in children.

Taber Grace didn’t stop with Cerxus — he was sucked into one article after another about drugs that had been rushed to market, marketed illegally, over-prescribed, reacted badly with other medications, increased the risk of strokes or heart attacks, caused fatalities. Every pharmaceutical company he had ever heard of had been sued because of one drug or another, and between them they had paid out billions of dollars to settle claims. And he knew a settled claim meant sealed documents that the public was unlikely to see.

Taber Grace got up from his desk, his head filled with images of TJ’s terrified nine-year-old face, and Melissa bleeding and clutching him, and telling him what to do, and how to lie.

Replace the sound, replace the images.

He walked into his bare living room. He sat on the sofa, and turned on the television. He watched microphones being pushed into the face of a man called Bob Gage, Summit County Sheriff. Behind Sheriff Gage and back a little, was definitely an FBI Agent. A BuBabe. A Bureau Babe. He knew that case agents weren’t authorized to speak to the press, but she would have been a better face for the camera.

The sheriff was speaking: ‘At four a.m. on the morning of Tuesday, November 17, the bodies of Mark Whaley, 49, and Shelby Royce, 16, were found on Wildcard Drive here in Breckenridge. Following yesterday’s autopsy results, we can confirm that Shelby Royce died of a gunshot wound to the chest. Mark Whaley died from a gunshot wound to the head which evidence confirms was self-inflicted. At nine a.m. on the morning of November 17, Mark Whaley’s daughter, Laurie Whaley, was reunited with her family and is recovering at a private location.’

A reporter asked: ‘Sheriff Gage, can you tell us the extent of her injuries?’

‘Laurie Whaley is recovering well. That is the last comment I will make on her condition.’

‘Sheriff, is it true that Shelby Royce was sexually assaulted before her death?’

‘Our investigation is ongoing.’

‘Was this a murder-suicide?’

‘All evidence points to a murder-suicide. Thank you for your time.’

‘Sheriff Gage-’

‘Sheriff Gage-’

‘I have no further comment at this time.’

Taber Grace stood up from the sofa.

‘Hate to break it to you, people — that was no murder-suicide.’

He hit the red button and the screen went black.

‘But you’re going to have a hell of a time proving otherwise.’

He walked over to the shredder, took the file from on top of it, and laid it on his desk.

33

Ren Bryce sat at her desk with her handbag open, throwing in everything she could see that belonged to her.

Gary called her over to his desk. She leaned over the partition, then quickly checked her shirt.

‘I cleaned it,’ said Gary.

‘Good for you, not suffering in silence.’

He smiled. ‘I wanted to ask — how was your appointment with Dr Lone?’

‘Did you know that his sessions are all an hour long?’ said Ren. ‘Not fifteen minutes, not even half an hour. How does that work? Financially? And missing-work-wise?’ And boredom-threshold- wise.

‘You just concentrate on making the most of that hour,’ said Gary.

‘But-’

‘If it makes you feel better,’ said Gary, ‘he only charges a fifteen-minute fee for a one-hour session.’

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Who does that?’

‘People who like to help people, I guess.’

‘No wonder he can’t afford full shoes …’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Gary.

‘Just … he wears sandals,’ said Ren.

‘Jesus, Ren. Maybe if your approach was not to stare at the floor, you wouldn’t notice his footwear.’

Helen Wheeler had beautiful shoes.