Harm’s Reach - Alex Barclay

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are a very distracted man, lately. ‘Slow down,’ said Ren.

      Up ahead, a white Hyundai Accent was parked at the side of the road. The passenger door was closed, the driver’s door, half open.

      ‘We could be in luck,’ said Ren, sitting forward.

      Gary slowed.

      ‘Rental plates,’ said Ren. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa … what the hell? That’s a body …’

      Gary cut the engine. They jumped out of the SUV and drew their weapons. Slowly, they walked toward the car.

      ‘It’s a woman,’ said Ren.

      She had been shot in the head at close range; there was little left of her face. She had also been shot in the chest, her ruined torso half out of the car; one arm dangling down, the ends of her pale brown hair trailing in the dirt.

      ‘She hasn’t been here long,’ said Ren. She checked her watch. It was 15.48.

      ‘One to the head, one to the chest,’ said Gary.

      ‘Looks like whoever shot her was standing in the open passenger door. Look at the spatter.’

      Gary nodded.

      ‘The glove box is open,’ said Ren, ‘maybe she was trying to get something out of there … a weapon … a purse … Or maybe the shooter was.’

      ‘They tried to wipe it down,’ said Gary. ‘Carjacking?’ he said. ‘Could be connected to the robbery. The bandits ditched their car, flagged her down, maybe … didn’t take the car because they were disturbed? Or panicked?’

      ‘Would a woman pull over if she was alone?’

      ‘Unless she wasn’t alone …’

      ‘Hey,’ said Ren, pointing to the ground. ‘Cell phone.’

      She put on gloves and picked it up. When she stood up, she looked into the car again. All at once, she could feel her heart lurch, her legs weaken, her stomach turn.

       Oh, no. No. No. No.

      She stared up at Gary. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘She’s pregnant.’

       3

      Janine Hooks, Jefferson County Cold Case detective, walked into her office for the last time. On her desk was a potted plant, wrapped in tissue, a burst of pink in the dimness of a Seventies-style office in shades of brown, with half-closed vertical blinds that, even if open, would reveal nothing more scenic than the parking lot of the JeffCo government complex.

      Janine often sat in the visitor’s chair at her small desk with her back to the door … and from behind, got mistaken for a man. Or worse still, a boy. ‘Son, I’m looking for …’

      But it didn’t make her move. She didn’t want to watch the passing parade, she didn’t want to be watched. And now she would be; her boss had told her she had to move down the hallway to an open-plan, fluorescent-bright office with three other investigators. It felt like a step backwards and she was experiencing unpleasant cubicle memory. She wondered was he trying to force her into the world; a world to which she had been an adjunct since 2005, when she’d solved her first cold case in between her regular workload. When the sergeant who appointed her retired, he took her aside a few minutes before his speech.

      ‘I’m going to tell you something,’ he had said, ‘and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. Years ago, I walked into that tidy little cubicle of yours, and I see all these photos of dogs. I mean, we’d been working together a while at this stage, but it was just this particular day, I walked in and I really looked at everything you had around you, all the things that were dear to you. And there’s this one photo of a dog with a bone. And the light in his eyes was a spectacular thing. He was fierce. He was gripping this bone, no one would take it away from him, and he was so goddamn happy. And I swear to God, I thought – that is Janine Hooks.’

      Janine smiled at the memory. Later that night, he had mentioned her again – in front of the entire office, as part of his leaving speech. ‘I came in one day and Janine had her arm stuck right in to the back of the refrigerator,’ he said, ‘and she was pulling something out … I don’t know what the hell it was, but it was slimy, it was green, and it stank. And it was nothing to do with her. It wasn’t her mess to clean up. But she did it. Sure, that innocent little face of hers was looking a little screwed up, but that was it: no bitching, no whining. That is why Janine Hooks gets to wear the cold case crown. And she wears it so well.’

      ‘That and the fact there were no other suitors,’ Janine had said.

      ‘You had me at “skeletal remains”.’

      They all laughed, and over the laughter, he shouted for everyone’s attention again …

      ‘Seriously, everyone,’ he said. ‘I am going to miss you all, I am going to be back in here bugging the crap out of you, you all know that. No one should have favorites, but I’m retiring, I can say what the hell I like, and Janny Hooks, I will miss you most. If you asked me the main quality I think a cold case detective needs, I would say “tenacity”. You have it, more than anyone I know. If I had to throw in a few more, I’d say passion, loyalty, thoroughness, persuasiveness. Janine Hooks will make use of every resource she can, she will find resources hiding in the back pockets of politicians or down the sides of sofas, or up people’s fat lazy asses. She will find things. Janine Hooks will find things.’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Cold cases, warm heart.’

      Like the magnanimous man he was, he had set her up to succeed. And she would never forget it. And she knew that, toward the end of his speech, he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his successor, he was telling him ‘Don’t you cut this unit, don’t you let Janine Hooks go’. Because in the three years she’d been stuck with his successor, she had to fight for everything she got. So the tenacity, the resource-finding, the doggedness, was seared into her and to not do what she was doing was unimaginable. And fortunately, her current sergeant – the third since her first boss left – was third time lucky. He got it. Maybe he didn’t quite get her, but he got her job, and maybe that was all Janine Hooks needed him to get.

      They got on well, she knew he liked her. But she suspected he worried about her. He had already made his decision about moving her to the main office when Special Agent Ren Bryce appeared one day. Janine could see what he was thinking: Janine Hooks has a friend! A hot, sociable friend who seems heterosexual! Or maybe not, these confusing days! Janine knew that with her short, side-parted dark hair and her small bones and her tucked-in shirts and tidy pants and no makeup that she sent out a message. But, didn’t everyone?

      Anyway, by then it was too late for the sergeant to change his mind about her move. She was capable of making friends, it appeared. In the general population, out in the investigators’ bullpen, she could make even more.

      Janine lingered in the office doorway. She gave one last glance around. She went to her desk, and pulled out the first of the cards that were spiked into the soil around the plant.

       Be careful. This could be a plant. Love, Ren XX

      There was a second card beside it.

       Hope you’re not feeling too uprooted. Love, Ren XX

      There was a third.

       Stay strong, man. Love, Ren XX

      There was a fourth. Janine laughed. Seriously?

       Is this a moving experience for you? Love, Ren XX

      Janine laughed again. She could always rely on Ren. They were friends just a year, but she knew she was closer to Ren than she had ever been to anyone. She went to pick up the plant. It was only then she noticed the flashing light on her desk phone. She pushed the button.

      The

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