Blood Loss

Who wants to be stopped from having sex with someone? And why can’t everything be light- hearted?

43

Ben opened the front door, grabbed Ren’s hand, and pulled her upstairs into the bedroom. He sat on the bed.

‘Take off your clothes,’ he said.

How am I supposed to stop comparing these men?

‘You do it,’ said Ren. She took his hands and put them where she wanted them. He slid them up, and started with her top button.

He paused. ‘Was this expensive?’

Yes. Shockingly. ‘No,’ said Ren.

Ben grabbed the fabric, and yanked it hard, popping all the buttons. Then he grabbed the back, and ripped it off. He unhooked her bra with one hand, and threw it on the floor with the top, and everything else that was getting in his way.

Ren turned around, and looked into his eyes for the longest she had since they met.

I like you Ben Rader. I like you a lot.

Ren lay on the floor afterwards and stared at the remains of her top, and some buttons. Something was clawing at her, somewhere in the back of her mind, mixed with thoughts of people throwing their careers away, and photos, and this.

Whores.

She jumped up, grabbed her phone and called Bob Gage.

‘I need to speak to your most promising newcomer,’ said Ren.

‘Owens?’ said Bob.

‘See?’ said Ren. ‘I knew you thought he was good.’

‘Shit,’ said Bob. ‘OK, I’ll give you his cell.’

Ren wrote down the number.

‘What’s this all about?’ said Bob. ‘Looking for help with a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle?’

‘Leave him alone,’ said Ren. ‘He may be about to give me some case-altering information.’

‘About-’

‘B’bye.’

Ren punched in Owens’ number.

‘OK — Owens, it’s Ren. Can you talk? This is important.’

‘Sure I can,’ said Owens. ‘Shoot.’

She could hear him shuffling pages.

‘Remember the break room,’ said Ren. ‘When I left you there with Mark Whaley?’

‘Yes.’

‘What was he like, do you remember?’ said Ren. ‘What did he do?’

‘He just kind of sat there in a daze,’ said Owens. ‘He was watching the television.’

‘Did he say anything?’ said Ren.

‘Just … he said thank you for the coffee. But … he didn’t touch it. He looked ill. I had to go get him some antacid.’

‘Did you leave him alone?’ said Ren.

‘Uh, yes,’ said Owens. ‘He was sick … I didn’t want him to throw up. I was only gone five minutes, max. Just to reception — the ladies have a supply.’

‘And when you got back …’ said Ren.

‘Nothing,’ said Owens. ‘He was there, same place.’

‘How did he look?’ said Ren.

‘No better. More sweaty. I gave him the Tums, he said thank you. And shortly after was when you came in.’

Ren remembered the sweat, the strong smell. The smell of fear.

‘Is there a phone in the break room?’ said Ren.

‘Yes …’ said Owens. He paused. ‘Oh, God. Do you think he made a call? But he really didn’t look well. He was telling the truth, definitely.’

‘I have no doubt that Mark Whaley was looking very sick,’ said Ren. ‘But there are many reasons why a man can look sick, and sickness isn’t always top of that list. Especially when he’s sitting in the Sheriff’s Office …’

‘I am so sorry,’ said Owens.

‘I know you are,’ said Ren. ‘And I know it won’t happen again.’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Nor will you call me ma’am again,’ said Ren. ‘Just so we’re clear. So, what do you think could have made Mark Whaley change his mind about his polygraph … from when he left the interrogation room with me to when I returned to the break room?’

‘You’re asking me …’ said Owens.

‘I’m asking you,’ said Ren.

‘Uh, OK. He comes in to the break room. He sits down. He’s waiting for coffee. He’s watching the news. Was the girls’ disappearance on it when you got there?’

‘Yes,’ said Ren.

‘Maybe it was all too real,’ said Owens. ‘When he saw it all there on the news, his daughter, it made him sick, and the whole idea of a polygraph was too … polygraphs scare people.’

Ren nodded. ‘And one of the stories on the news afterward was about a woman who failed a polygraph, and has been considered guilty ever since.’

‘Oh, he didn’t watch that story,’ said Owens. ‘We were talking over that …’

Oh. My. God. And again, the answer was pulling at Ren.

‘You’re sure of that,’ said Ren.

‘Absolutely,’ said Owens.

It wasn’t the red Ferrari lady that stopped Mark Whaley taking the polygraph. It was the next story. It was Shep Collier’s press conference.

Ren ran back into the bedroom. ‘That was amazing, gotta go.’

Ben was asleep. She ran into his office, grabbed a stapler and stapled her top together. She put her jacket over it and buttoned it up as far as it could go.

Ren got back to Safe Streets and opened her laptop on the photos of Mark Whaley that had come in from The Lowry. And there was the young lady, getting close to Mark Whaley.

Tilting her head in a way that I should have recognized. Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was Mark Whaley and Tina Bowers. Ex-Congressman Shep Collier’s lady of the night.

Ren searched on line for the article she had read on Shep Collier. He had slept with Tina Bowers on October 24th. He had stayed at The Crawford Hotel. Ren Googled The Lowry, where Mark Whaley had stayed. It was two blocks away. And Saturday the 24th was the third night he had been staying in Boston.

Republican Congressman Shep Collier, secret supporter of healthcare for the poor, was the antithesis of big- business pharmaceutical companies.

What was his connection with Mark Whaley?

44

Ren didn’t run her plans by Gary. Instead, the following morning, she sat in the conference room with her