Blood Loss

loaded onto Erica’s iPod, but he knew it wasn’t the iPod, it was the phone, and as he walked into the bedroom, there it was, flashing on the floor of the bedroom: Laurie’s little pink cell phone. He ended his call, picked up her phone and brought it into Erica.

‘I’m going to check the other rooms, I’ll check the other rooms, stay here, in case she …’ He ran from the room and down the hallway, hammering on every door, shouting for Laurie.

‘My daughter’s missing!’ he shouted. ‘My daughter’s gone! She’s eleven years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, seventy pounds, wearing … wearing … pajamas! Pajamas with … pink pajamas … with Jesus … just pink!’

Doors started to open along the hallway.

‘Anyone!’ said Mark. ‘Anyone! Has anyone seen her? Everyone, my daughter’s missing! She was here just a half hour ago. I just checked on her. On the sitter. There was a sitter. Blonde hair. Five two … sixteen years old.’

Jesus, she was sixteen years old, he thought.

7

Ren Bryce woke up with Ben Rader behind her, his thick arm wrapped around her waist. He pulled her closer to him, and kissed her shoulder, then her neck. He leaned into her ear, and spoke very quietly, telling her what he was guessing she wanted. As she backed up against him, his hand moved up her body, stayed longer than she could handle, then slid all the way down. She was barely awake as she moved on top of him. He sat up to meet her. He slid them both to the edge of the bed. Every movement he made was rock solid. Ren was looking into the mirrored wardrobe door, where she could watch him, and his bare muscular torso, and his white-knuckle grip on her hips.

And the award for outstanding performance by a male in a leading role goes to …

Her cell phone rang. No. No.

‘No,’ said Ben.

‘No,’ said Ren.

Ren glanced down at the screen. Shit.

‘I have to,’ she said. ‘Don’t move.’ She grabbed the phone. Remove the sex from your voice. ‘Well, hi, High Sheriff.’

‘Special greetings, Special Agent.’ Sheriff Bob Gage was the Summit County Sheriff, two counties west of Denver.

‘It’s late, it’s early,’ said Ren, ‘and there is a grim tone to your voice.’

‘There are grim happenings in Breckenridge,’ said Bob. ‘I’m just about to call your boss to get your Safe Street asses over here.’

‘What’s going down?’ said Ren.

‘Missing child, missing sitter,’ said Bob.

‘Missing from where?’ said Ren.

Ben lifted Ren onto the bed beside him. She wrapped a sheet around herself.

‘They disappeared from their room in a brand-spanking new hotel,’ said Bob. ‘The Merlin Lodge amp; Spa. Or maybe the sitter took the little girl. Or maybe they were both abducted. The sitter is sixteen years old, and the girl is eleven. The parents were down in the restaurant, the stepmother was drunk, got through a couple bottles of champagne on her own. They were seen arguing at the table.’

‘And the father?’ said Ren.

‘He’s a mess. This was the first time he was allowed overnight parenting time. I can’t get a handle on him, though.’

‘Allowed by whom?’ said Ren.

‘A judge,’ said Bob. ‘Don’t you hate that legal bullshit “parenting time”? Isn’t the whole time “parenting time”? It bugs me. Anyway, he’s got two kids. The girl, from his first marriage, and a three-year-old boy with his current wife — the drunk one. The ex-wife is the primary care parent, she wanted him nowhere near his daughter, but eventually a judge over-rode her wishes, had sympathy for the guy — he had turned his life around. His “parenting time” increased. And the latest development was that he could take her overnight.’

Ren sucked in a breath. ‘What do you mean “turned his life around”? What kind of guy are we talking about here?’

‘He’s a recovering alcoholic,’ said Bob. ‘He’s no low-life. He’s a big shot in a pharmaceuticals company in Denver. The CFO. What’s that — Chief Financial Officer?’

‘Yup,’ said Ren. ‘What about the ex-wife? Have you spoken with her? Could she have taken her daughter to get back at him, to prove a point?’ She paused. ‘But, then, where did the sitter come into it?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bob. ‘We haven’t spoken to the ex-wife yet. The sitter’s a local kid, pretty blonde, good- girl type. She’s with an agency that’s on call at the hotel. The hotel’s only open a couple weeks. Just get your ass here, we’ll talk more.’

‘I’m on my way.’ Ren hung up.

Ben Rader was in the bathroom.

‘Do not reveal yourself until I’m gone,’ Ren shouted. She started to gather up her clothes. ‘I won’t be responsible … or professional … or …’

The door opened and Ben Rader walked in, naked and smiling, toward her. ‘Seriously …’ he said.

You wonderful man.

I-70 was eerily quiet, stretching out in front of Ren like a road to nowhere. She turned on the radio, turned it off, picked up her iPod, threw it down, looked at herself in the mirror, thought of Ben Rader, smiled, then reached for her cell phone. Her hand hovered over speed dial number three — Janine Hooks, her friend of four months, and the entire workforce of the Jefferson County Cold Case Unit, based in Golden, fifteen miles outside Denver. Janine had short brown hair, a wide mouth with full lips, and prominent, pretty teeth. She was small and boyish, and weighed no more than one hundred pounds. Ren worried that she was anorexic.

Ren and Janine had met over a cold case linked to Helen Wheeler’s murder, and came to blows over it when Billy Waites, Ren’s confidential-informant ex, broke into Janine’s office to steal a file. Yet, from this betrayal came a close, fast friendship, and the understanding that it had all been for the greater good. Ren’s only regret was that she hadn’t met Janine Hooks years ago.

Ren hit three on speed dial.

‘Wow,’ said Janine, ‘three thirty a.m. is always such a good time for me.’

‘I’m driving by yo’ house,’ said Ren. ‘And test-driving my new hands-free. You can still like a guy who makes a Bon Jovi reference … right?’

‘You can like him even more,’ said Janine. ‘What was the reference?’ Ren knew the facial expression Janine would now have — frowny, chin out, head a little tilted. When Janine Hooks listened, she listened.

‘Slippery When Wet,’ said Ren.

‘Album number three, 1986,’ said Janine.

‘I love Bon Jovi fans!’ said Ren.

‘Who is this man?’ said Janine. ‘I was wondering where you had disappeared to.’

‘Special — very special — Agent Ben Rader. Michael J. Fox gene, goes undercover with the underage. A man with a Major in minors …’

‘And …’ said Janine.

‘Well … he is … amazing,’ said Ren.

‘Oh, God,’ said Janine. ‘I just got the Slippery When Wet. No more details. Please.’

‘Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Ren. ‘It was soap.’

‘Aren’t you guys not meant to date other agents?’ said Janine.

They both laughed.

‘Gary would go apeshit, though,’ said Ren.