Blood Runs Cold

Ren took another mouthful of water. ‘Shit.’

‘You want to look at the photos?’ said Robbie.

‘Sure. I love your photos. You really are very good,’ said Ren. ‘You could have an exhibition – Truax: Scenes from Scenes.’ If the location was interesting, Robbie shot landscapes from crime scenes.

Ren reached out for the digital camera.

‘Am I going to find any photographs of an intimate nature here?’ she said.

‘Only the ones we took on Colin’s desk that night,’ said Robbie.

Ren turned on the camera. The first series of photos were exterior shots of a bank the task force had been surveilling. She ran through them quickly and got to the morning photos at the trailhead and up at the site. She reached for her bag and her USB cable and downloaded them into iPhoto.

She put her elbow on the desk, rested her chin on her hand, and started to go through the photos slowly. The guys took seats at different computers and started searching databases and making calls. When Ren reached the last of the photos, she went back to the start. She stopped at one, zoomed and leaned in close.

‘Robbie? Did that cadaver dog get in there before you took these?’

Robbie shook his head. ‘No. Jesus, why do I always get a hard time about contamination …’

‘No, you don’t, baby,’ said Ren. ‘No, it’s just that, look – are those paw prints in the snow?’

Robbie came over to look. ‘Paws? Are you sure?’

‘Looks that way to me,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not exactly Ren of the Mountains.’

‘Could it have been an avalanche rescue dog?’ said Robbie.

‘There were none,’ said Ren. ‘It would have been too late. I went into everything with Bob: it was snowing when they were taking the bodies down, but there was no snowfall later that night. So, something was up there after the body was recovered, but before this morning.’

Colin and Cliff came over.

‘I don’t know,’ said Colin. ‘It’s either shadows in the snow. Or it could be critters.’

‘Yeah,’ said Cliff.

‘What do you think?’ said Robbie, squeezing Ren’s shoulders, looking over them.

‘Could there have been a dog up there last night?’ said Ren.

‘And if there was?’ said Colin.

Ren shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it’s interesting.’

‘Why?’ said Colin.

‘Jesus. Did you drive your mama nuts when you were a kid?’ said Ren. She ignored the smart-ass face she could see reflected in her laptop screen. ‘And look,’ she said, pointing again to the photo, ‘right around here, there are other markings too, little disturbances in the surface.’

‘It’s just … I’m wondering why those paw prints – if that’s what they are – would matter a damn,’ said Colin. ‘What – you think some other dog already found the body?’

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I mean, you looked all over that snow when you went back up, right? You would have noticed if something had been dug up, covered over. You couldn’t hide that. You would have seen where a shovel had tamped down the snow. It would be harder. And there was no snowfall to cover it up after.’

‘Yeah,’ said Colin. ‘That’s my point.’

‘And my point is that paw prints up there are interesting,’ said Ren.

‘And possibly completely irrelevant,’ said Colin, walking away. The others moved back to their desks.

Ren went to close iPhoto, but she hit a folder and sprung open a screen full of her and Vincent’s smiling faces – alone or hanging out with their friends. They were holding up random objects, bending over furniture, pointing at things, flashing wide grins. She smiled. And felt miserable. She scrolled slowly through some more, but every one tried to draw emotions from places she had locked up.

‘Where’s Gary?’ she said, closing her computer.

‘With Bob and Mike,’ said Colin. ‘I think they just got back to Bob’s office.’

Ren got up and went in to them, forcing herself to take a bottle of water with her.

Bob was alone on a phone call. He smiled at her and gave her the signal he was nearly done. She grabbed a Jolly Rancher from a bowl by the window and sat down. The television was on a shelf behind her, silent but tuned to the news. Bob finished up.

‘So, how you doing?’ he said.

‘I’m fine. I’m fine,’ said Ren.

‘Good.’

‘I believe we didn’t get much up there today.’

‘We got nothing.’

‘I saw the photos,’ she said. ‘It looked like maybe a dog had been up there already.’

Bob gave her a big-deal shrug.

‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘So … why do you think the body was left on Quandary Peak?’

‘Because that’s where she was killed,’ said Bob, deadpan.

‘Jurisdiction-wise, the Sheriff’s Office has got the unincorporated parts of the county. Anything not in the township is yours, right?’ said Ren.

‘Right,’ said Bob. He paused. ‘Aha – you’re saying this could be a killer who just wants me to take charge of the investigation, knowing that the case will never be solved …’

Ren laughed. ‘Shame on you. But you know what I mean about Quandary Peak.’

He shrugged. ‘It might have some significance. Or it might not.’

‘I’d understand if they were going to throw the body down a mine shaft,’ said Ren, ‘it’s a good place to dump a corpse. Not convenient, though. But leaving it just laying there …’

‘We don’t know where that body started out,’ said Bob.

‘Yeah, but it’s not likely it was in a mine,’ said Ren. ‘The killer would have to be some mean weightlifting, skiing, Houdini.’