Читать книгу Blood Loss - Alex Barclay - Страница 11

From the windows of The Merlin Lodge & Spa, the peaks of the Tenmile Range over Breckenridge glowed against the black sky. Snow was falling, more than was forecast, a white powdery gift for the next day’s competitors. The town was hosting a snowboarding championship two weeks ahead of the world-famous Winter Dew Festival, when up to one hundred thousand visitors would hit Breck.

Mark and Erica Whaley sat at a table against the wall half way down the restaurant.

‘OK,’ said Mark, looking at his watch. ‘It’s eleven thirty. I told the sitter I’d go check on the kids half an hour ago.’

Erica pulled the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket beside the table and held it over her glass.

‘I think you’ll find that’s empty,’ said Mark, smiling.

Erica leaned back in her chair. ‘Oh, well …’

There was a moment of silence between them.

‘Honey, are you OK?’ said Erica, reaching out for Mark’s hand.

‘Yes,’ he said. His jaw clenched. ‘Why? I’m fine. You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t.’

‘Exactly,’ said Erica. ‘I am the first to know …’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Mark.

‘It means that most of the time I know before you do that something is up,’ said Erica.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Mark. ‘Nothing is up.’

‘Calm down,’ said Erica.

‘I’m just tired of being asked,’ said Mark.

‘So, I won’t ask, then,’ said Erica.

‘Thank you,’ said Mark.

‘I won’t care any more if you’re OK,’ said Erica.

‘Honey …’

‘I’ll be one of those wives who lets her husband come and go, tends to her children, sleeps with the pool guy and plays bridge with her lady friends.’

‘We’re never getting a pool,’ said Mark.

Erica smiled.

‘I only ask because I care,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I get that,’ said Mark.

‘Don’t be like that.’

‘Honey, we’re on vacation,’ said Mark.

‘Away from things,’ said Erica. ‘Isn’t that a good time to talk?’

‘Sure it is,’ said Mark. ‘But let’s not get into the “are you OK” thing.’

Erica gestured to the waiter walking past.

‘Could we get another bottle of champagne, please?’ she said.

‘You bet,’ said the waiter.

‘Thank you,’ said Erica. She looked at Mark’s face. ‘Oh, come on. I’m fine.’

‘I didn’t say a word,’ said Mark.

Erica made an expression to mimic his.

‘But two bottles – really?’ said Mark. ‘We’ve got snowboarding tomorrow, the championships, the kids …’

‘You don’t have to worry about me,’ said Erica.

‘Emphasis on the “me”,’ said Mark.

Erica rolled her eyes.

‘From the lady with the horror of eye-rolling,’ said Mark. ‘There was an emphasis,’ he said. ‘Subconscious or not …’

‘That is not fair,’ said Erica. ‘You know I’m not like that.’

‘Do you know something?’ said Mark. ‘Being mean when you’re drunk is a drink problem too …’

‘Wow,’ said Erica. Mark wasn’t looking at her. ‘What has gotten into you?’ She waited. ‘Mark, look at me.’

He did.

‘Are you OK?’ she said.

‘You’re seriously asking me that,’ said Mark, ‘after everything I just said …’

Erica’s eyes were alight. ‘Oh my God, I have put up with so much shit from you. For months! Have you any clue? You work late, or you’re locked away in the den—’

‘It’s been really busy. You know that—’

‘We have sex once a month—’ said Erica.

Mark looked at her like she was nuts.

‘Trust me,’ said Erica. She paused. ‘Once a month … I feel hideous.’

‘Hideous?’ said Mark. ‘What the …?’ His face was stricken.

‘I’m thirty-nine years old and I feel like a hag,’ she said. ‘My husband barely comes near me. So forgive me for asking if everything is all right. And it’s not just about sex. It’s about you being distant. From all of us. Sure, here we are in a beautiful hotel, but what’s the point? I’ve tried tonight, and no, I’m still getting nothing from you. So, forgive me for trying to get something from a bottle of champagne.’

Mark said nothing.

‘I’m your wife,’ said Erica. ‘I know you. I’m not asking if you’re OK for the hell of it. I’m asking because I know that everything is not OK. I’m asking a question I know the answer to, whether you do or not, whether you’re lying to me or not. I’m giving you an out, Mark. I’m giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Because I know you. And, therefore, I know that something is not right.’ Her chest was heaving. ‘Do you even know the significance of this weekend?’

‘What?’ said Mark. ‘Of course I do. I’m the one who’s spent years trying to get a judge to let me have my daughter overnight—’

‘You’re not the only one,’ said Erica. ‘I was there too. I was the one who helped to change that judge’s mind, who gave you the stability to—’

‘I gave myself the stability,’ said Mark. ‘I’m the one who went for treatment, I’m the—’

‘Anyway, I’m not talking about Laurie,’ said Erica. ‘I’m talking about us.’

Mark paused. ‘Our anniversary is Tuesday. Not tonight. Not this weekend. Seriously, Erica. Did you think I’d forgotten?’

Erica looked away. ‘I … yes. I did. I’m sorry.’

Mark shook his head. ‘Why would you think I’d forget that?’

‘Because of everything I just said to you. And because …’

‘Because what?’ said Mark.

Erica looked him in the eye. ‘Mark, are you seeing someone else?’

He stared at her. He took a deep breath. Then he threw his napkin onto the table. ‘I’m going to check on the kids.’

Ren and Cliff waited as Glenn Buddy held his hand over the phone to talk to a nurse.

He came back on the line. ‘The vic won’t be ready to talk any time soon.’

‘Were there any signs of forced entry at the house?’ said Cliff.

‘Yup,’ said Glenn. ‘He broke in the back door. She was alone; her parents were at the movies.’

‘And you think it’s the same guy …?’ said Cliff.

Even though it’s forced entry in the victim’s own home.

Ren glanced at Cliff, but he missed it.

‘Yes,’ said Glenn. ‘Similar build, frenzied, same unwashed smell, terrible breath, stab wounds in all the same places.’

Ren knew where those places were and it was horrific.

‘Anything left at the scene this time?’ said Cliff.

‘Nothing that hopped out,’ said Glenn. ‘Our Evidence Response Team’s going through it. And we’re still trying to round up kids from the Kennington party. It’s The Silent Order of the Teenage Freaks …’

‘What do you need from us?’ said Cliff. ‘Shoot.’

Mark Whaley rode the elevator to the third floor of The Merlin Lodge and Spa. He jogged down the dark hallway. He turned the key in the door of Room 304. The sitter – blonde, curvy, sixteen years old – was standing in front of him … naked.