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Agent Ren Bryce Thriller Series Books 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss
Alex Barclay
Three thrillers featuring FBI Agent Ren Bryce, from bestselling author, Alex Barclay. Perfect for fans of Karin Slaughter and Patricia Cornwell.BLOOD RUNS COLD:When an FBI agent is found dead on the white slopes of Quandary Peak in Colorado, Ren Bryce is brought in to lead the investigation. Fighting personal demons, pressure from Washington and dwindling leads, the case stalls and her career falters.But as summer comes, Quandary Peak has disturbing new secrets to give up. And as one agent fights failure and hopelessness, another has left behind a trail that leads to a man with a dark past and even darker intentions.TIME OF DEATH:FBI agent Ren Bryce’s hunt for some of the country’s most dangerous killers is about to turn into a nightmare. There’s unfinished business between Ren and those she is pursuing, and soon she’s forced to confront both personal and professional traumas.Then someone close to Ren is murdered and secrets from her past look set to be revealed, throwing her into a world of fear, paranoia and danger.Time is running out and Ren must catch a killer before he catches her…BLOOD LOSS:When an eleven-year-old girl and her teenage babysitter vanish without a trace from their hotel room, FBI agent Ren Bryce is drafted in to lead the investigation.Faced with conflicting evidence and inconsistent witnesses, Ren works obsessively to unravel the dark family secrets at the heart of the case, before it’s too late.But Ren’s behaviour becomes increasingly reckless. Putting her own safety at risk, she enters a world where innocent lives are ruined for profit – and kidnap, rape and murder are all part of the deal.
ALEX BARCLAY
AGENT REN BRYCE THRILLER SERIES BOOKS 1-3: Blood Runs Cold, Time of Death, Blood Loss
Table of Contents
Title Page (#u4d2462d2-2437-5d4b-aeb0-a2b76623f10b)
Blood Runs Cold (#u321b8656-77ef-5d00-a4f2-9e2f25e41198)
Time of Death (#ucd59aac0-4f37-56b6-83fe-a2c1f558a03e)
Blood Loss (#ua406b2b3-25ce-5384-8b04-86c4efa995e2)
Coming Soon (#u902b997a-3411-5b6b-b017-ae57a9d37531)
About the Author (#u7297dc08-2054-5b30-bdab-69b5a7d4be63)
Also by the Author (#uea7de9a1-ab2d-593f-9652-d92d203f6f29)
Copyright (#ub1cbf0c0-ee1d-5a38-ba6b-b0eed4727157)
About the Publisher (#u2c87aa0b-a158-5784-b67e-46aa896e3c9d)
(#ulink_d7c484df-532e-51f1-9e32-752d24254d29)
ALEX BARCLAY
Blood Runs Cold
For Sue Booth-Forbes
Table of Contents
Title Page (#ufb5aa82a-15e6-5b00-8166-0611d3773954)Dedication (#ua5d43039-f4d7-5486-94c8-ade5d3a6b5d5)Prologue (#ud84d6884-b379-57e7-8da3-3e68e0fce42d)Part One (#u4b365795-306d-5aa0-87c3-360fa5d2b829)Chapter 1 (#u50ade9eb-c17a-5a6e-84fc-31aa3faa8e3f)Chapter 2 (#ua97ee3cb-d800-56f6-92b5-6e710bcbf418)Chapter 3 (#udc3b0926-e07b-57f3-8011-5d046c705967)Chapter 4 (#u9b0fb8e6-e3da-532a-a3c3-99334add06c0)Chapter 5 (#u5641fd08-7e18-5dae-bdc0-66bf848255bd)Chapter 6 (#uaa107554-0b06-5ba4-915b-fcc1942fa897)Chapter 7 (#ue8d97382-3a22-5ed2-bc26-5117139215a0)Chapter 8 (#u5597253b-97c3-5630-b9c5-c048abb31bb3)Chapter 9 (#u6f5b5b66-e4cd-528b-89c9-738993f60efe)Chapter 10 (#ubb6f4258-00b8-52ea-9599-4c351f1c5ca9)Chapter 11 (#u47e1a7b9-dc6d-580f-bc2c-e7d08657c527)Chapter 12 (#u00ba10de-7aba-5e37-b2c3-3c4936f4de3d)Chapter 13 (#u13525631-31d8-5a49-9450-d18fcfb8d768)Chapter 14 (#u6fb5a2f3-886f-5555-b375-368e33a30540)Chapter 15 (#u4745e4c1-b108-58a5-9e9c-5849e8181ba7)Chapter 16 (#u1152104e-e531-57a8-9058-23bd6d4393e7)Chapter 17 (#u5a9a561c-8540-5ac5-b364-9c2edf162186)Chapter 18 (#ua7d0183b-8514-5159-9c9f-0bfa24ae9595)Chapter 19 (#u8ab3a030-0939-5235-9543-9815fe78d1f3)Chapter 20 (#ud58ecf32-b5a8-50df-924e-617abb98a833)Chapter 21 (#ud0d269ca-9be6-58ab-8870-dae33f946bb9)Chapter 22 (#u03bf0f34-7ce2-5c4b-981d-8c998e5cd937)Chapter 23 (#u97ff5b57-098f-5c8e-82aa-f82b46c90407)Chapter 24 (#u3b3a48bb-fc79-5950-a465-aed05af71b4c)Chapter 25 (#u1520465a-f7ea-565d-b4cf-27a823a8ad0f)Chapter 26 (#u62d51c39-6dd7-5b90-869f-a2b7dbc6711e)Chapter 27 (#u54dbcdeb-3e4b-50d4-b1e2-0a378ad5d078)Chapter 28 (#u2755b37c-48fa-5dc9-be8c-7358d3ddd8da)Chapter 29 (#u71899250-6e62-5668-9fdd-cb6640187663)Chapter 30 (#u14fa7d0f-ff81-54bb-aefc-f4a5f6a7943c)Chapter 31 (#ud74cec1a-620e-598b-9256-36dbb4203e92)Chapter 32 (#ub3c5dc9c-b584-5057-93c9-bd28c73421e2)Chapter 33 (#u5b4506c8-e1a3-5fe8-aabb-28b346bf10ff)Chapter 34 (#u122ab719-0c11-5ea8-a2d1-2d28622db7e2)Chapter 35 (#u8669c44a-d350-5e34-a407-5b06c1da6b92)Chapter 36 (#ua1d99db2-f138-5e81-b1c0-a34703967631)Chapter 37 (#u82c8ab92-a6b7-5e3d-935b-bb2f7db57272)Chapter 38 (#u14a6d7f8-e36c-591b-a743-d19ad9707169)Chapter 39 (#uc33d6a65-68d6-5991-bca4-44a52e381ba8)Chapter 40 (#uf1653b2e-87c7-5d7e-b308-e396588d4e0b)Chapter 41 (#u77479243-4bef-53d0-8ea5-b3258c92c812)Chapter 42 (#u371099d7-95da-581b-b9b8-2b0f84a37f44)Chapter 43 (#uf374157b-00c1-5b37-a02c-9376b221a83b)Chapter 44 (#u55eb9f57-f412-5df8-a87a-30602f2dbf5f)Chapter 45 (#u77eda728-a8ef-529b-a750-126b53415ca9)Chapter 46 (#uade1aca5-3e68-5629-8677-094b6f2e8bca)Part Two (#u224ab53b-d57a-5577-b7ef-3928e4aa453b)Chapter 47 (#ub354605c-39d2-5ace-81b4-0522df5bdccf)Chapter 48 (#u57b4b1cd-37b4-5102-86a1-4f60ff6de384)Chapter 49 (#u485fb294-2eb4-559b-a71e-7727ce90f324)Chapter 50 (#u0b6ca547-db6f-5310-a4d0-3bfb77c0ebc3)Chapter 51 (#u637cfe37-6bf4-5501-8006-42be12f5007c)Chapter 52 (#uf9be785d-c8d2-5346-ad8c-ac6ec33f5a39)Chapter 53 (#ua63ea97f-bd9a-5d13-8c4d-c71e22f2a118)Chapter 54 (#u13d088c8-d60a-537d-9c5f-35b1c2daf8fb)Chapter 55 (#uf5da1af2-5691-5035-8186-9d21a0b61cc9)Chapter 56 (#ue9e73ead-a55e-5ae3-a881-482db2de9c8c)Chapter 57 (#u9f6f728d-d032-5241-bc22-55d16801cc3b)Chapter 58 (#u0b56c2b8-8b33-585d-9179-a74b323837a6)Chapter 59 (#u2329c948-bff9-5bd5-b86f-ec0a9a79248a)Chapter 60 (#uee86e8b1-c53f-518d-9416-3c449e5958d1)Chapter 61 (#u998f2457-b7eb-544e-acd0-0de0db4b1c4d)Chapter 62 (#ub73c072b-d0a9-5e71-82ca-51e31aae4389)Chapter 63 (#u3b1c8baf-2a9e-5128-8f92-94da47eaacfb)Chapter 64 (#u04aec918-23e2-5575-b268-0c96ecea3930)Chapter 65 (#u52f84475-8fcd-5762-9703-15a3a457119f)Chapter 66 (#ub56d3a14-6418-5f84-bf5a-bca1fed939ca)Chapter 67 (#u610c6ece-7259-55c1-9c34-19a0ec7370bf)Chapter 68 (#ue4854f23-0225-5601-9b07-2ad15ed8f213)Epilogue (#u235eb4c8-f43d-52ff-9f4d-8d356c82b844)Acknowledgments (#uc61c1cc1-d785-50b0-b8eb-027a562b9511)Copyright (#u8a64070a-9fe1-5029-9de3-4c2ae797f363)
Prologue (#u8bb60e53-87b4-54e1-a600-62c12d8c99b9)
In the lights of the police cruisers, her face was a strobing image of pain and fear. But she was still, to the child in her arms, a haven. She ran as fast as her violated body would allow, pressing his head to her cheek, his hair soaking up their sweat, blood, spit, tears. A terrible, ruined stench rose from them in the damp heat.
She staggered on, flinching at the stones and branches underfoot, her shoes long lost, too beautiful for the night. The trees swayed toward them and away, and when they gave enough shelter, she stopped. She prised the tiny hands from around her neck, breaking the dead-man’s grip of a seven-year-old boy. She tried to smile as she lowered him to the ground. Black pinpricks of gravel shone from her lips.
‘Do not make a sound,’ she said. ‘Not a sound.’ Her voice was edged in nicotine.
The boy quickly clamped his arms around her legs. She shoved him sharply backwards, away from her wounds. He fell hard. She watched without feeling. He got up and moved toward her again, tears streaming down his face.
‘No,’ she hissed, shaking her head. ‘No.’
She crouched down. ‘You have to hide, OK?’ She pointed to the scrub close by. ‘Go. I’ll be right here.’ She squeezed his hand as she released it.
He did as she said. She moved a few steps forward into a clearing, cracking the forest floor. Her face was in darkness. But in the faint glow of a flashlight, relief swept over her features; a picture, flashing like a warning.
The man walked from the trees. He looked at his wife – bloodied and soiled, her hand gripping her ripped-open blouse in what dignity she could find. She slumped against him, the sounds she made raw and disturbing.
The little boy watched.
As I was walking up the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d stay away
‘Mira, Domenica,’ said the man. Look.
Domenica turned to where she had run from. Beyond the trees, a fire raged and smoke filled the sky. She was transfixed.
‘Hellfire,’ she said.
But her eyes shone with something more than flames.
PART ONE (#u8bb60e53-87b4-54e1-a600-62c12d8c99b9)
Chapter 1 (#u8bb60e53-87b4-54e1-a600-62c12d8c99b9)
Rifle, Colorado
Jean Transom woke to the glow of her desk lamp and the feeling that someone had laid a trail of explosives under her world while she slept. Two work files lay in front of her – brown manila folders, the pages inside clean, neat and annotated. The top file held no photographs, but was open on a drawing – a basic floor plan, the benign geometry of rectangles and circles and squares coming together on a page to represent a space that had been so malignant. Jean inhaled deeply, but what followed was a broken breath. She pressed her hands on the desk and stood up.
She took a shower, rubbing a bar of soap briskly over her body under the hot jets. She dressed in a white shirt, tan tapered pants and soft leather shoes.
‘Come here, baby,’ she said, smiling as she walked into the kitchen. She hunkered down and reached out a hand. ‘Come here, McGraw, you sweet little boy.’
The shiny black cat stared her down.
‘That’s why it’s called a catwalk, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You know how to move, don’t you? And you know how to look at me like you are fabulous and I am not. But I can be fabulous, you’d be surprised to hear. Yes I can.’ She laughed as he turned his back, raised his tail, and made his way slowly to his bed in the corner.
‘Lazy, baby,’ said Jean. ‘I have a lazy man living in my house. And if you’re not going to talk to me …’ She reached over and turned on her old black stereo. For a few seconds, Jean Transom sang along to the music, gently and off-key.
She ate her breakfast – oatmeal, honey and fruit. She filled the dishwasher, wiped down the counters and folded the tea towel by the sink.
As she walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of decaf back to her office, pain and sorrow swelled again inside her. Everyone is born with places to hide secrets; mind, heart and body. A family can spread the burden along the branches of its trees; some shatter in the storm, others survive the most relentless assaults.
She sat down at her desk and stared at the diagram – years old, preserved in plastic, drawn in blues and greens by a child’s determined hand. It was a diagram that Jean Transom could trust, a child she knew had screamed in the night with the visions. She put it in her work file and went into the hallway.
Her hand shook as she picked up her purse and pulled out her FBI creds. She snapped them on to the right inside breast pocket of her jacket and walked out the door.
Golden, Colorado
Ren Bryce woke to white porcelain and the feeling that someone had laid her free weights on her head while she slept. She reached a hand up to take them away, but her knuckles hit the underside of the toilet bowl. She opened her eyes wider and saw splashes of what had surged from her stomach at four a.m. Red wine. She rolled on to her back. Her blue dress, beautiful and complimented twelve hours earlier, was open to the waist, limp and stained. She turned her head slowly and saw her stockings in the corner by the toilet brush. She closed her eyes again.
She dragged herself slowly upright and was soon hanging over the bowl, heaving nothing, but hit with the smell of her previous efforts. She retched until silver stars burst before her eyes. She hauled herself standing and turned on the shower, spending ten minutes washing her hair and body with six different products.
From her bedroom, her iPod alarm exploded full volume with Dropkick Murphys.
Let’s finish these drinks and be gone for the night Cos I’m more than a handful you’ll see So kiss me, I’m shitfaced …
Ren jumped from the shower and ran naked to turn down the volume. She dried herself with a towel from the floor, then threw on pink lace boy shorts, a matching bra, a black fitted shirt, black bootleg pants and black heels. She walked past her dressing table, a wave of nausea sweeping over her at the thought of makeup. But she gave in. Her day was already going to be bad.
She grabbed a clip with one hand, twisted her wet hair with the other and pinned it up. She sat down at the mirror and moisturized in slow motion. Her face was a blank canvas; dark skin, pale green eyes, high cheekbones. Somewhere in her past, there was Iroquois blood. She dragged her makeup toward her and applied a calm surface to the choppy waters.
Vincent was downstairs on the sofa reading the paper.
‘Hi,’ said Ren.
‘Appropriate song choice.’ His voice was flat.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the volume.’
‘The volume?’ said Vincent, looking up.
Ren stared at him from across the room.
‘Is that it?’ he said.
‘Is what it?’ said Ren.
‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’
Ren kept walking into the kitchen. She poured a mug of black coffee.
Vincent came in behind her. ‘Can you explain your behavior at least?’
‘OK,’ said Ren, turning around, ‘you’ve just used three sentences – in a row – that my mom used to say to me when I was, like, seventeen.’
‘Stop with the whole mom thing.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s true. That’s what you sound like. I’m sick of listening to you treat me –’
‘No, no, no. I’m sick. Of all of this.’
Ren opened her mouth.
‘Listen to yourself,’ said Vincent. ‘You are thirty-six years old and you sound like a child.’
‘Fuck you,’ said Ren.
Vincent held up his finger. ‘I can’t do this any more,’ he said. ‘You were way out of line last night.’
Ren put her hands to her ears. ‘Shut up. I don’t want to know.’
He pulled her hands gently away. ‘I know you don’t. But you went ballistic.’ He shook his head. ‘I tried everything.’
Ren remembered the start of the evening, her nice dress, her perfect makeup, her pinned-back hair, Vincent’s smile when he saw her walk down the stairs.
‘Did you see a work file around here anywhere?’ she said. ‘Did you tidy anything away?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Shit.’ She put her mug down and strode around the living room, opening drawers and lifting up cushions. ‘Shit.’
‘It’s not there, OK? I cleaned the entire place this morning. Can we talk about last night?’ He was close to grabbing her wrist.
Ren glanced at her watch. ‘Shit. Sorry. I just don’t have the time.’
‘Tonight?’ she called after her as she ran into the hall.
‘No,’ said Vincent, following her. ‘No.’
‘OK. What did I do last night?’ she said, turning to him. ‘Tell me.’
‘It was more what you said.’
‘I was drunk. It doesn’t count.’
‘Yes it does,’ said Vincent.
‘Jesus, why can’t you just get that I say things I don’t mean when I’m drunk?’
‘Because it hurts, Ren. It fucking hurts, OK?’
‘But if you know what I’m saying is not true, how can it hurt you? I mean, that’s like me getting offended because you call me, I don’t know … something I’m totally not.’
‘Great, Ren. We’ve been over this before. You have a very simple way of looking at it. You think you can say what you like to me and I’ll be fine. But what happens is you totally hook me into your bullshit. You are so convincing. The way you say everything, I believe you. It’s like every time, you’re having an epiphany.’
‘Well, if you know it’s every time, why don’t you ignore it?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Ren, that’s just not how it works. Do you even remember what you said to me last night?’
Ren said nothing.
‘Well, at least I’m seeing the glow of pre-emptive shame,’ said Vincent.
‘That’s mean.’
