Blood Loss (27 page)

‘You’re a white witch.’

‘How can you live with that brain of yours?’ said Janine. ‘I would go crazy.’

‘Oh, I do,’ said Ren. ‘You have no idea.’

That night, Ren sat in front of her laptop and searched for Tina Bowers to make sure that Hugh Hefner hadn’t flown her to his mansion for a party. She had posted a new photo on Facebook from that afternoon – with her black Labrador and two clear Maplewood, New Jersey markers in the background.

The girl trying to hide from the media …

Ren was about to shut her laptop. But words came back to her – words from Matt, words from Janine; cycle, pattern, threshold, crazy. She went to Apple movie trailers, and watched five. She sat back and stared at the screen. And Matt’s words came back again; “jumping off drunk and nekkid for fun”.

Ren leaned forward and opened Google. She typed in the name Dr Leonard Lone.

Show me what you’re made of. Show me why you should be the winner of this year’s Shrink Idol. Who have you worked with? Who are your influences?

At first, Ren found very little information except his business address and contact details. There were no images, no videos, no academic papers.

Ren worked some more magic. And there it was – everything she could want to know. Her hands froze on the keys.

Dr Leonard Lone. Trust-fund billionaire. Philanthropist. Resident in multi-million-dollar mansion.

Holy psychotropics! My shrink is Batman.

Maplewood, New Jersey was a beautiful, quiet, old-school town, a great place to bring up a family. There was no sign in the town center that read Birthplace of Teen Hooker Tina Bowers.

Ren sat in her car down the street and waited until she saw Tina, running down the path of her aunt’s house with a black Labrador on a leash. Tina was dressed in a white down parka and skinny blue jeans tucked into black suede knee-high boots. The fur-trimmed hood of her parka was down, its pointed edges reaching out past her narrow shoulders. Her white-blonde hair was loose and piled inside it.

Ren got out of the car and walked toward her.

‘Tina Bowers,’ said Ren. She was better-looking up close than Ren had expected. Her skin was flawless, several shades paler than in her promotional shots. Without makeup, her eyes looked smaller, her blonde lashes almost translucent. The effect was angelic.

‘Ohmygod, how did you find me?’ said Tina. ‘I’m not doing any more interviews.’ She tried to go back into the house. Then she saw Ren’s badge.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘I’m Special Agent Ren Bryce, I’m working on the murder of a young girl, not much younger than you …’

‘Oh my God,’ said Bowers. ‘Really? That’s terrible.’

Ren nodded. ‘Can we go grab a coffee somewhere?’

‘But … what have I got to do with a … murder?’ said Bowers.

‘Let’s go get coffee,’ said Ren. ‘Let’s start with that. Where’s good?’

‘Um … right down the street,’ said Bowers

The coffee shop smelled of disinfectant. A skinny, wrinkled waitress with a spray bottle was the person responsible. Ren sat opposite Tina Bowers in a booth at the back.

‘Tell me about Shep Collier,’ said Ren. ‘The truth …’

‘I … told the truth,’ said Bowers. ‘Do you seriously think—’

‘Tina, tell me the truth,’ said Ren. ‘This is a murder investigation. And it’s a crime to lie to a federal agent. That would be me.’

‘Who was murdered?’ said Bowers. ‘You said a girl.’

‘A sixteen-year-old girl,’ said Ren. ‘So, I need you to tell me about what happened with Shep Collier.’

‘You think he murdered someone?’ said Bowers.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I do not. Talk to me. What happened?’

‘How do you know anything happened?’ said Tina.

Ren’s expression stopped Tina asking another question. Instead, she looked around her, behind her, over Ren’s shoulder.

‘Tina, what happened the night you were at the hotel with Shep Collier?’ said Ren.

‘I got a call from the agency to go to The Crawford Hotel to room whatever,’ said Bowers. ‘So, I did. Shep Collier opened the door. I had been told by my boss that the role play would start as soon as he did, so I played along – tried to force my way in, told him I knew what he wanted.’ She shrugged. ‘He was like, what the hell is going on here, but I kept pushing it. For a while. It was obvious real soon that this was all bullshit. It was real awkward. I kind of apologized, I think … I can’t really remember … but I left.’

‘You did not have sex with Shep Collier,’ said Ren.

‘No. I was mortified. I left the hotel, and I called the agency. They said that he probably got cold feet, but that they had been paid, I would be paid, so it was all cool, I could go home if I wanted.’ She took a breath. ‘So, I did. And when I get home, there’s a man waiting at the steps to my building, and he stops me, and says “Tina Bowers, here’s the thing … ” And he tells me that he will give me $20,000 to tell that story I told about Shep Collier, and the guy says he can email me photos of me at the room as backup … so that the story would be realistic. So, I did.’

‘Did he say why he wanted that story told?’ said Ren.

‘No.’ She shrugged.

‘But you agreed to do this …’

‘For the money,’ said Tina.

Hello?
‘Did you know who Shep Collier was?’ said Ren.

‘Not really,’ said Tina. ‘I mean, I realized when the story went huge.’

‘Who did this man say you were to tell that story to?’ said Ren.

‘I had to email blownpolitics.com. It was supposed to be anonymous. But, I think they tricked me. Next thing, my name was everywhere … my actual name. It was the worst day of my life.’ She looked at Ren. ‘You’re probably thinking getting $20,000 couldn’t be the worst day of anyone’s life …’

‘That’s not at all what I’m thinking,’ said Ren. ‘You were used very badly in all this.’

‘Well, that’s m’job,’ said Tina. She tilted her head.

‘And I don’t think that either,’ said Ren.

‘It’s pretty shitty,’ said Bowers. ‘And all those wives bitching about me on line. And meanwhile, their husbands are, like, Googling me like crazy. I’m right up there.’ She took out her phone. ‘But check this out.’ She opened up her photo folder, and turned the screen to Ren. She started scrolling through photos she had taken of herself with different wigs, and sunglasses.

‘I guess I could go anonymous for a while. I’ll put them up on Facebook, see which look my fans like the best.’

Anonymous. Let me know how that works out.

‘Can you give me a description of the man who came to your house, and gave you that $20,000?’

‘Yes, but even I know that it won’t help you. He was like any other guy. Tall, thin, skinny face, short light brown hair, combed to the side. Black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots.’

Ren wrote it all down. ‘Thank you.’

‘Will I have to testify?’ said Tina.

‘I don’t have enough information to answer that,’ said Ren. ‘Now, I want to show you two photos.’ She handed her a photo of Mark Whaley. ‘Have you ever met this man?’

Tina stared at the photo. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘This one was different. It wasn’t an agency thing. I was just to go up to him, chat to him in the hotel foyer, in the bar, places where the hotel had cameras.’

‘Did he show any interest in you?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Tina. ‘Not at all. He showed me a picture of his kids. I pretended I was just a tourist, waiting to meet my mom and dad, that they were up in the room getting ready for dinner. He was a nice man.’

‘And was it the same man who gave you the $20,000 that asked you to do this too?’ said Ren.

Knowing that both men’s photos hitting the media would cause a shitstorm.

‘Yes,’ said Tina. ‘He didn’t pay me extra for that.’

‘One more photo,’ said Ren. ‘Have you spoken to this man?’ She put down a photo of Taber Grace.

Tina looked away, slumping in the chair.

‘Remember, Tina, you are legally bound to tell me the truth,’ said Ren. ‘This man is not a law enforcement officer …’

Tina groaned. ‘Yes. He was here. He wanted to know about the congressman too.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell me about him?’ said Ren.

Tina shrugged. ‘No. He wanted to know the same things you did. The only difference was that he had a photo of the man who paid me.’

Shit.

‘Well, he had four photos,’ said Tina, ‘and I had to pick the one who paid me. Which I did. But he didn’t tell me who he was or anything.’

‘Were they mugshots?’ said Ren.

‘No – they were just regular photos. But they’re ones that look like the person doesn’t know they were being taken.’

Funnily enough
.

‘When did you meet this man?’ said Ren.

‘This morning. He’s not going to come back for me, is he? I mean, he told me not to tell anyone …’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘He’s not going to come back for you.’ She stood up.
‘Tina, thank you for your time.’

‘No problem,’ said Tina.

‘So, what are you going to do now … with your life?’ said Ren.

‘I’m staying safe,’ said Tina. ‘Webcam probably. When I get back to my apartment.’ She pointed to herself. ‘No-one gets to touch this anymore.’

She rubbed the frayed cuff of her jacket. She looked at Ren. ‘Probably until I need new stuff, anyway.’

Sweet Jesus.

Ren went to Gary’s office when she got back. She told him what happened with Tina Bowers.

‘Gary, you have got to let me go talk to Shep Collier,’ said Ren. ‘Tina Bowers was paid off – Shep Collier
was
set up, Tina confirmed that. She was paid $20,000 to tell a tall tale. And the same guy who paid her to trash the congressman sent Tina to The Lowry to entrap Mark Whaley …’

‘Where does Shep Collier live?’ said Gary.

‘Florida,’ said Ren. ‘Sarasota.’

Gary raised an eyebrow.

‘I wish he lived next door,’ said Ren. ‘I have zero interest in getting on another flight, even if I do end up in warmer, more glamorous climes …’ She paused. ‘I just have a feeling Collier will talk to me,’ said Ren.

Gary waited for more.

‘It was just … it was how he was on the phone with me,’ said Ren.

‘That’s it?’ said Gary.

‘My bag is still packed,’ said Ren. ‘This will be an easy transition.’

‘OK, go,’ said Gary. ‘But, Ren – Shep Collier stood up in front of America and admitted this. Can you trust what this girl is saying?’

Ren stopped at her desk, and sat down to type up her conversation with Tina Bowers. Paul Louderback called as she was finishing.

‘Well, you were a big hit with my girls,’ said Paul.

‘Aw.’

‘They thought you were “so cool” …’ said Paul.

‘Well, you can tell them I thought
they
were so cool,’ said Ren. ‘They are really great kids.’

‘I know …’ said Paul.

‘You are allowed to take some credit for how your kids turned out,’ said Ren. ‘There was a little hesitation in your voice, there.’

‘Marianne has done the heavy lifting,’ said Paul. ‘I … well, I don’t know what exactly I contributed.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘So, what happened with Whore du Jour?’ said Paul.

‘Shep Collier was framed,’ said Ren. ‘Tina Bowers didn’t sleep with him. She was paid $20,000 to say she did.’

‘Any idea who’s behind this?’ said Paul.

‘I’m flying to Florida in the morning to talk to Shep Collier,’ said Ren.

‘Can I come?’ said Paul.

Ren smiled.

‘I hope you didn’t mind Wednesday – that I didn’t tell you the girls were with me,’ said Paul. ‘I’d been sitting there, thinking, “How am I going to talk to the girls for two more hours?” I love them so much, and I’d be just fine sitting there quietly with them, but that’s not what they want. They would have gotten bored, and I would hate the idea that spending time with me was a duty. You came along and you were able to talk to them about movie stars, and clothes, and computer games, and pop singers.’

Movie stars and pop singers. Quaint.

‘Were we at the same table?’ said Ren. ‘They were just excited to be there with you. They adore you.’

‘Thanks,’ said Paul. ‘And you weren’t the only big hit. They seemed to take quite a shine to Ben Rader.’

Pause. Reflect
. ‘Probably because he looks roundabout their age,’ said Ren.

‘In fact, they thought you and Ben would make a great couple,’ said Paul.

Yeah … until their father showed up in town and messed it all up.

‘Kids adore Ben,’ said Ren.

‘He’s quite the charmer,’ said Paul.

Stop where you’re going.

Ren kept working until late. Until she got a call from Naomi.

‘Ren, get your butt into Gaffney’s. I’m here with your office, and they’re talking work and sport. Like that’s any kind of revelation to you, but please. Save me.’

Ren looked at her watch. ‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got a five-thirty flight in the morning.’

‘That’s hours away,’ said Naomi. ‘No excuse. Get to your locker, do a Superman. Text me when you’re two minutes away and I’ll even have your beer lined up.’

‘OK …’ said Ren. ‘A few beers won’t kill me.’

‘Yay!’ said Naomi.

‘See you there,’ said Ren.

Gary was standing in the doorway. ‘Are you going to Gaffney’s?’

‘Yes,’ said Ren.

‘You’re flying out early in the morning, right?’

‘Yes …’

‘So, can you drive?’ said Gary. ‘So I can have a beer?’

You evil genius.
‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘You don’t need a ride home, do you?’

‘No,’ said Gary.

They got into the Jeep. Ren started the engine. She reversed out of the spot in a sweeping arc that finished with a deafening crunch of metal, and a forward motion that slammed her head hard against the steering wheel, and split the skin at her eye.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Gary. He had grabbed the dashboard and his arm had taken all the impact.

‘Fuck,’ said Ren. ‘Fuck. I’m sorry, Gary.’

Gary let out a breath. ‘Are you OK?’ He turned to her.

She still had her head down, and was holding the steering wheel. She touched her cheek. She looked at her fingers.
Blood. Lots of blood.