She Was at Risk

by P. D. Workman

  He’d hung up on Bridget.

  There was nothing else he could have done, of course. But he’d never thought that he would choose to hang up on her. He would always keep her on the phone for as long as he could, just to hear her voice. Even if she were criticizing him, he would rather hear her voice than to think that she was gone from his life for good. That maybe she had forgotten about him altogether. That was what he couldn’t handle.

  Nothing happened at first. Bridget was probably just as shocked that he would hang up on her as he was. Then his phone lit up again with an incoming call. Again, Gordon’s profile. But Zachary couldn’t tell whether it was Bridget calling from the house phone or Gordon calling him back from his work phone or cell phone after his meeting ended. Zachary looked at it and didn’t answer.

  After a long time, the call went to voicemail. Zachary stared down at the dimmed screen, wondering whether Bridget or Gordon would leave him a message.

  A text message popped up. Bridget’s name. The message didn’t come up on his lock screen, but he saw her name and knew that she was the one who had called him back. And now she was texting him. And he probably didn’t want to read whatever she had sent him in text. Or maybe she had even sent a voice message or a video message via text. So that she could continue yelling at him.

  He swallowed and didn’t unlock the screen.

  The phone rang again.

  He didn’t answer it.

  Another text notification.

  And his text notifications would keep buzzing even if she didn’t text him anymore, because he had it set to remind him indefinitely, so that he wouldn’t miss it when someone texted him.

  Another phone call.

  Zachary waited for it to go to voicemail. He swiped to unlock the phone and used his fingerprint to get past the security screen. He went into his notifications and turned off the repeating notifications for text messages.

  Without reading the texts from Bridget, he locked the screen again, and put the phone down on the bed, looking at it like it was a live snake. Waiting for it to strike.

  It didn’t ring again.

  Zachary looked up at his door. Mr. Peterson was no longer there. He had moved on, but would certainly want to know why Zachary was talking to Bridget again. Especially in that pleading tone of voice.

  27

  He tried to breathe until he was calm. It wasn’t working. His chest still hurt and he couldn’t get enough oxygen. It wasn’t a full-blown meltdown, but he still couldn’t get his breathing under control.

  He left his phone on the bed. If Bridget were going to call or text him any more, he didn’t want to see it. He needed to get some distance.

  Zachary walked out to the kitchen, knowing that he was going to walk in on Pat and Mr. Peterson discussing him or at least casting glances in his direction while they tried to figure out what was going on. He staggered to the table and sat down heavily.

  “You look terrible,” Mr. Peterson commented.

  Pat said nothing, but slid a mug of coffee across the table to him. Zachary took a couple of sips of the boiling-hot coffee. It probably stripped off the first two layers of skin, but he hoped that it would calm him down and bring him back to the present.

  It was a struggle to hold back tears. Not from the hot coffee, but from the memories of Bridget. How close they had been at the beginning. How thoughtful and nurturing she had been. And how that had all dissolved in the two years of their marriage, until none of it remained. But his feelings for her endured, and he didn’t know how to wipe them out. Even being in another relationship, he didn’t know how to erase his feelings for Bridget.

  He took a couple more big gulps of coffee.

  “That’s going to burn a hole right through your stomach,” Pat said, shaking his head. “Slow down. Are you okay?”

  Zachary wasn’t okay. How could he be okay when Bridget was again on the warpath and he was trying to solve the problem that she didn’t even know they had?

  He wanted to fix everything, just like she had tried to fix him. He wanted to fix the situation with the babies. But he couldn’t. No matter what he did to help bring charges against McLachlan, it wasn’t going to change their genes. And Bridget was still going to be in pain over the choice that she had to make. Either bring two babies into the world who were not Gordon’s and were going to eventually get Huntington’s Disease, or terminate them. It wasn’t fair that she should have to make that decision.

  The thought that she faced a painful decision like that helped to contain his tears. What was his problem? He was upset that she thought he had called her. That didn’t compare in any way to the decision that she was going to have to make.

  He wouldn’t want to be in Bridget’s shoes for anything.

  He took a deep breath and tried to blow it out slowly. All the way until his lungs were empty. Or as empty as he could make them. He took another breath in. He swallowed and looked at Mr. Peterson.

  “Bridget?” Mr. Peterson said.

  “Yeah… well… that was a mistake.”

  “I would guess so. Why were you on the phone with Bridget?” Mr. Peterson put his hands up, stopping Zachary from answering. “Not that it’s any of my business. Of course you can call whoever you want. I’m just… concerned. Is there something going on that you want to tell me about?”

  Zachary took one more breath, his heart still thumping hard in his chest. “I meant to call her husband. Accidentally called the home number instead of his office.”

  “Ouch.” Mr. Peterson winced.

  “Yeah. So she thinks I was trying to call her. I told her I just pocket-dialed, but she doesn’t believe me.” Zachary shrugged. “Of course not. Why would she?”

  “Why would you be calling her? That’s not exactly covert stalking behavior.”

  “No. I don’t know. She’s just upset to see my number; she’s not thinking about whether it is logical for me to call her.” Zachary shrugged and shook his head. “And maybe… if I was having problems… maybe I would call her even though I know better.”

  “Well, there isn’t anything you can do other than just telling her what you did,” Pat said calmly. “Whether she chooses to believe it, or not believe it, that’s her own choice.”

  “She said she’s going to get a restraining order.”

  “She’s threatened that before,” Mr. Peterson pointed out. “So far, she hasn’t.”

  “No… but she’ll be able to prove that I called her.”

  “A phone call, especially a pocket dial, doesn’t exactly get you a restraining order. It isn’t evidence that you are stalking or threatening her.”

  “She could say it was, though. She knows plenty of the cops at the police station. She could get someone to help her out.”

  “You have friends there too.”

  “Who would listen to me over her? I doubt it. I’m the one with emotional problems. People love Bridget.”

  “You’ll get through this, Zachary,” Mr. Peterson told him calmly. “You’re doing the right thing. You’re disengaging from her and not trying to convince her of anything. She’s not going to believe it, and you’ll just get her more wound up by trying.”

  Zachary nodded. He took a slower sip of coffee, trying to relax and enjoy it.

  Bridget could choose to believe whatever she wanted to. She was going through a very difficult time, so of course she was even more emotional than usual. She had every right to be upset, but that didn’t mean he had to be.

  It was difficult to go on as though nothing had happened. Zachary finished his coffee with Mr. Peterson and Pat, trying to pace himself by how much was left in their mugs. They had toast too, but he wasn’t ready for solid food. When everyone had drained their cups, they went their different directions.

  Zachary went back to the guest room and looked at his phone. It was no longer lit up with incoming phone calls. So Bridget had, hopefully, given up. Maybe she had called Gordon to complain about Zachary calling her when he wouldn’t take any mo
re of her calls. If that were the case, he might be facing Gordon’s anger too, and he was a powerful man. He wouldn’t be happy about Zachary calling Bridget and then admitting that he had meant to call Gordon. He would have to tell her what Zachary was investigating or make up a lie. Either way, Bridget wasn’t going to be happy about it. She would want to know why Gordon had hired Zachary instead of another investigator. One who didn’t have a history with Bridget.

  Which was a really good question. Why had Gordon hired him?

  It was probably because Gordon knew that Zachary would do whatever he could to help. He would go the extra mile to come up with a solution or to figure out what had happened. Another investigator wouldn’t do that. He’d do the basics and, even if Gordon offered to pay extra, they wouldn’t go much beyond that. But Zachary would. Because he would do anything for Bridget, even if it were to his detriment.

  He picked up his phone and glanced at the lock screen. He didn’t really want to know how many times Bridget had called or sent him a text message. Her name and Gordon’s were interspersed on the screen, so either she had called him from both her cell phone and the house number that was listed under Gordon’s name, or Gordon had tried to reach him as well.

  But it was probably best to let the storm blow over. Give Bridget some time to cool down. And the same for Gordon. He was usually even-tempered and patient with Bridget’s tantrums. But it would be a good idea to make sure he’d had plenty of time to cool off after learning of Zachary’s mistake.

  He didn’t listen to his voicemails or read his text messages. He touched his computer keyboard to wake up the laptop, and checked the contact details for McLachlan again. He dialed the number that he assumed was a cell phone. There was no answer and he ended up in a voicemail box with the default robotic message. He hesitated whether to leave a message, and then ended up doing it at the last moment, rushing it but hopefully still sounding coherent.

  He tried the Westlake clinic number and asked for McLachlan. The receptionist sounded surprised to have someone ask after him. Probably friends would call his cell, and clients wouldn’t ask for him at all, since he was a lab worker and not their primary contact.

  “May I ask who is calling?”

  “It’s personal. I just couldn’t get him on cell, so I thought I would try him there.”

  “Well…” The receptionist hesitated. Zachary waited for her to tell him that they weren’t allowed to take personal calls or something to that effect. “I actually don’t know… Forest isn’t in the office today.”

  “Oh, of course. I suppose it’s a weekend, so he wouldn’t be, would he?”

  “He does work some weekends. We are still open and can be pretty busy on weekends, since that’s the only time some patients can get off work.”

  “But he’s not scheduled to be in today?”

  “He’s not in,” the woman told him.

  Zachary considered her answer. She hadn’t answered whether McLachlan was supposed to be in, just that he wasn’t. Was she avoiding the issue?

  “Was he supposed to be in today?”

  “I really can’t tell you about staff schedules. He isn’t in the office today. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No… that’s fine. You don’t think there’s something wrong, do you?”

  She didn’t deny it or hang up on him. Zachary sensed she was warring with whether to obey the office policies and keep staff confidentiality or to confide in him as a personal friend of McLachlan’s.

  “He doesn’t normally just not show up for his shift, does he?” Zachary guessed.

  “No, I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

  “Have you tried reaching him? I suppose you just keep getting his voicemail, like I do.”

  “Yes. I’ve left a message, but I don’t know whether to think…”

  “That there’s something wrong or that he’s just hungover or something?”

  “He could be sick with the flu and just can’t get to the phone. It might be nothing at all.”

  “But he hasn’t done this before.”

  “No.”

  Had someone called McLachlan and told him about Zachary’s inquiries? He’d tried to ensure that each of the people he had interviewed understood that they were not to call McLachlan to tell him anything about the interviews but, of course, people didn’t always listen. If they thought that it was important for McLachlan to hear something, or they wanted to apologize for something they had said that might ruin his chances at getting some kind of financing, they might have called anyway. And if McLachlan knew that someone was investigating both in Vermont and in Minnesota… he would run. He wouldn’t wait around to see if he would get put in jail this time. He’d been lucky once, but he couldn’t count on Westlake Clinic treating him the same way as Sandhills had.

  “I’m a little concerned,” Zachary said. “Maybe I should go to his place and just make sure everything is okay.”

  “Would you?” The woman sounded relieved. Clearly, she could not leave her station to see what was going on. And there wasn’t anyone else she could send. Especially if McLachlan had left them short-staffed for the weekend.

  “Is this the address that you have?” Zachary asked. “I know he was looking at a new place, but he hasn’t moved yet, has he?” He read the address off for her.

  “Yes. He’s still there. That’s right.”

  “Okay. I’ll pop over and see if everything is all right.”

  She thanked him warmly, and Zachary hung up.

  The question was, should he really go see whether McLachlan was all right?

  It would mean a two-hour drive to his apartment, just to find out that he had slept in or had rabbited, and then two hours back. He needed to be back in time for dinner. That left him with enough time to spend a couple of hours looking for or talking to McLachlan. It seemed like enough time, but he didn’t want to risk being late for dinner.

  28

  Zachary couldn’t spend long deciding what to do, or he would run out of time. He grabbed his notepad and the few things he needed and headed for the door.

  “Out for a walk?” Mr. Peterson asked pleasantly.

  “Uh… a drive. I need to go check out a suspect. I’ll be a while. But I’m going to be back for dinner. You can tell Pat I’ll be back for sure.”

  “What’s that?” Pat came out of the kitchen.

  “I was just telling Mr.—Lorne that I have to go out. To deal with a case. I’ll be back, though. I’ll be here for your dinner.”

  “Okay,” Pat agreed, raising his eyebrows. His voice was a little higher than usual, as if he didn’t quite believe Zachary.

  “I’m not going to miss it. I know it means a lot to you. But I don’t want to leave this for another day. If this suspect has run, I can’t let the trail go cold.”

  “Who? Where would he run?”

  Zachary looked toward the door. “I’ll tell you about it later. It will take some time. I want to get on my way as soon as I can.”

  Pat nodded. Zachary looked toward Mr. Peterson, seeing what he would say.

  “This is important,” Mr. Peterson said quietly.

  “I know. And I’ll be here.”

  The two of them nodded. Zachary felt a heavy weight in his stomach. They didn’t believe him. They thought he was just going to take off and forget about the family dinner. That it wasn’t important to him or that he didn’t understand it was important to them. Zachary didn’t know what else to say. Words weren’t going to convince them. He was just going to have to show them with his actions.

  But he couldn’t leave it another day. If McLachlan had rabbited, Zachary needed to pick up his trail as soon as he could. He could do that and get back in time for the dinner. He wasn’t going to forget or take too long. He had the time to deal with it.

  He tried to smile at the couple, gave a nod, and went out the door. They would see. He would be back and there wouldn’t be any problems.

  He might have broken
the speed limit a little more than usual on his way back to the city. He was usually careful not to pass too many other cars, not to be obviously going any faster than the flow of traffic. Then no police would single him out as being reckless or speeding more than anyone else, and they would not pull him over.

  This time, he wasn’t as careful. He didn’t want to get pulled over for speeding, but he also wanted to get to McLachlan as quickly as possible so that he could be finished and back to Mr. Peterson’s in plenty of time to meet Pat’s family.

  Luckily, he wasn’t pulled over. He made it to the apartment he had confirmed was McLachlan’s current address without a hitch. In the glassed-in alcove, he pressed the button beside the name McLachlan and waited impatiently.

  There was no answering tone. He pushed it again.

  Maybe the button wasn’t even working. The building was a little run down, there were discarded flyers on the floor of the lobby area. Maybe the buttons didn’t even work.

  He pushed several other buzzers in a row, hoping that someone would simply ring him in.

  There were a couple of irritated answers. Zachary covered his mouth and talked in a muffled voice that would be impossible for them to understand. He repeated the process a couple more times when they asked questions and, eventually, one of them hit the door release, figuring he had a good reason to be there and not wanting to try to figure out who he was or what he was saying. Zachary pulled the door open and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. He found McLachlan’s door and knocked. To begin with, just a normal knock. Like any friend or deliveryman might make. When that didn’t get a response, he hammered on it more loudly. Maybe McLachlan was sick in his bedroom or the bathroom and couldn’t hear very well. Zachary pasted his ear to the door and listened for any activity within the apartment. There was nothing. One of the doors down the hall opened, and Zachary pulled back quickly. He smiled at the wild-haired man who had opened the door.