Читать книгу Agent Ren Bryce Thriller Series Books 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss - Alex Barclay - Страница 47

Chapter 38

The Hotel Teatro was the hotel that Ren recommended to anyone she knew who wanted to stay in the city. She had stayed there herself a few times, so she recognized the wallpaper when she woke up. And she recognized the arm again. Billy Waites was just not the kind of guy to sleep on the other side of the bed. He woke up and pulled her closer to him. She groaned.

‘Oh no,’ said Billy. ‘Are you not happy this morning?’

‘Billy …’ She remembered spending most of the previous evening telling him why they couldn’t be together.

Billy sang a few lines about regrets.

‘Oh my God,’ she laughed. ‘You look like you can sing.’

‘Yeah, no. I cannot sing. But do you want to see some more of my moves?’

She had no answer for that.

‘Come here, baby,’ he said.

Jesus – baby.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer again. He kissed her, then stopped. He looked her straight in the eye. To see would she stop him. She did not.

‘Do you feel better now?’ he said afterwards.

‘Stop.’

‘You were angry drunk last night,’ said Billy.

‘Was I?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did I say something terrible to you?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘But you just weren’t… chilled.’

‘I had a bad day. And a very long drinking day.’

She got out of bed and went into the shower. She stood under the hot water, sorting through Aveda products, smiling in spite of herself … because a bad feeling had sprouted claws inside her and wasn’t about to release its grip. Why had Billy come to Denver? Her stomach turned. Coincidence. But as she reached for the towel, there was the tiniest shake in her hand. She put on the bathrobe and walked back into the bedroom, picking up her clothes as she went. Billy was curled under the covers, looking out the window, his bare back to her. She dressed quickly. He turned around when he heard her grab her purse.

‘But I just ordered breakfast,’ he said. ‘Pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fruit, coffee … eggs, toast, croissants …’

‘You forgot the nothing.’

‘Just covering the bases. I mean, I don’t know what you eat for breakfast.’

‘Ugh.’

‘What?’ said Billy.

‘Well, you don’t know what I eat for breakfast, but you’ve … you know.’

He laughed. ‘So what? You feeling cheap?’

‘Stop always getting to the point.’

‘Stop dancing around shit, Ren. Loosen up. You’re not cheap. You’re expensive.’

‘I’m still going. I’ll settle the bill on my way out.’

He frowned. ‘No you won’t.’

‘Yes, I –’

‘No.’

‘Fine.’

‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

‘For the … hotel.’

Billy laughed again. ‘If you ever want another … hotel, let me know. I could give you hotels all night long.’

He couldn’t see her smiling as she closed the door behind her.

Ren walked quickly through the hotel lobby. The guy at the concierge desk was huge and smiling.

‘Good morning, madame.’

‘Hi, how are you?’ said Ren. Personally, I am troubled.

‘I am good this morning. Can we give madame a ride anywhere?’

Ooh. Hotel Teatro had a complementary shuttle service. A handsome young man in a black Jeep would take you anywhere you wanted to go.

‘Could you give me one moment?’ said Ren, walking around the corner where there was a huge open fire. She dialed Robbie’s cellphone.

‘Truax, are you in the office?’

‘Allegedly.’

‘Where is my car?’

He laughed. ‘Not again. It’s right by Gaffney’s. You were probably looking at it all night.’

‘Shit, yeah. Thanks.’

‘Where did you end up?’

Ren paused. ‘I gotta go. Thanks.’

‘Not fair.’

She walked back into the lobby. ‘Could you take me to Gaffney’s please?’

‘Great spot,’ he said.

‘Evil,’ she said.

Ren’s car was exactly where she didn’t remember leaving it. She sat inside, reclined the seat a little and blasted the heating. She dialed Helen’s number.

‘I did it again.’

‘Did what?’ said Helen.

‘Billy.’

Helen paused. ‘OK. Tell me what happened.’

‘I was here … I’m in Denver. So was he, he called, we hooked up. We stayed in a hotel.’

‘And how are you feeling this morning?’

‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘I really like him. I have not been able to stop thinking about him since the last time. But there’s something about him I can’t describe. I worry. My stomach gets unsettled. I don’t know if it’s because … I don’t trust him. Or because I’m falling in love with him.’ She slumped back in her chair. ‘It sounds ridiculous, I know. I mean, I’m thirty-six years old.’

‘So … do you think you have a future with him?’

‘What? I don’t know. Do I have to?’

‘I’m just giving you a reality check …’

‘If I look at it logically, no. I mean, is he going to come with me to the work Christmas party? No. Do I bring him home to my mom? No. Do I do anything other than hole up in a hotel room with him for months on end? No.’

‘That’s lots of nos.’

‘I know.’ She glanced at herself in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why do I do this?’

‘Ren? Only you can answer that.’

Ren brought guilt and a massive headache back to the Sheriff’s Office. She drank coffee and water, took Vitamin C and decided ultimately what she needed was some air in her lungs … with a stop-off at Charlie Barger’s house on the way.

Shannon Barger opened the door a fraction. Direct sunlight did nothing for her; she was a forty-five-year-old mess.

‘Hello,’ said Ren. ‘Is your father in?’

Shannon hung from the door in her low-riding track pants with her bare, bony hip out. Her thin auburn hair was tied with a brown elastic band on top of her head. She opened the door wider without saying a word and walked away.

Weirdo.

Ren knocked on Charlie Barger’s door. He took his time to open.

‘Hello, I’m Ren Bryce. You helped me with my altitude sickness.’ She smiled.

‘Oh, yes … you’re with the FBI. Mike Delaney … yes. I remember.’

‘You may be able to help me out. I’m doing some research on a case and I came across your house,’ she said. ‘Actually, I came across the Cheapshot Inn.’ She smiled.

Barger looked slightly bewildered. ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come in, let me make us some coffee.’

‘That would be great, thank you.’

Barger walked ahead of her down the dark hallway, his footsteps silent in sheepskin slippers. Ren’s heels sank into the carpet. She wondered if she was ruining it. But Barger’s wool cardigan and jeans, expensive but worn, reminded her everything in the house was fading.

‘I saw that photo in the Welcome Center, the people standing outside here,’ said Ren. ‘The name is great – cheap shot. That’s what a lot of young people come here for, right? Spend all their money on ski passes, come off the mountains looking for cheap alcohol.’ She smiled.

Barger stood at the kitchen sink, filling the bright red kettle. ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got coffee to give you,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m not a young person, so that’s fine.’

He turned around. ‘I reckon you’re about half my age – which makes you very young to me.’

She laughed. ‘I wanted to ask you about this guy –’ She placed the photo of Mark Wilson on the table.

‘Well, I know who he is. That guy disappeared last year. As a matter of fact, it was only on the news there a little while back.’

‘That’s him,’ said Ren. ‘I wanted to know … he stayed here for the month that he was in Breckenridge.’

He smiled sadly. ‘That’s the thing. I’ve already been through the investigation first time round.’

‘Oh, I’m not investigating it. I’m just taking a look at a few things. I had no idea this place used to be an inn.’

‘Yes. My father was a … generous man. He set this up many years ago. I used to work here on my vacations from college. Then, when he died, it was passed on to me, and when my daughter Shannon got older, she helped take care of it.’

Not very well, obviously.

‘Your father sounds like a good man.’

‘He was. He was. A champion skier, a 10th Mountain veteran, a developer, a humanitarian.’

A hard act to follow.