Something suddenly clicked into place.
Zachary’s brain clicked into high gear as he suddenly saw everything from a different angle. His ADHD brain started spinning through all the possibilities.
“Zachary?”
He didn’t move. He didn’t want anything to interrupt the moment of clarity.
They’d been wrong about everything.
Everything.
Zachary heard his fork fall from his hand with a clatter.
He pushed back his chair, murmuring an apology.
“Zachary? Is everything okay? What is it?”
He groped his way to his room and picked up the notepad he’d left on the bed. He started writing it all down. His hand couldn’t keep up with his thoughts, and he knew he wasn’t getting all of the missing pieces written down, but he persevered, trying to wring it all out of his brain and come up with a clear picture.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when Mr. Peterson came into the bedroom.
“Hey, Zach. Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Zachary blinked at him. “I just figured it out. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
“See what?”
“We were wrong about everything, start to finish. We started with the wrong premise.”
“Uh… we’re going to take the ladies out for ice cream. Do you want to come along? Or do you want me to pick something up for you?”
“No. I need to make a plan. Figure out what to do next.”
“Ice cream. Do you want some?” Lorne persisted.
Kenzie had found that ice cream was something that Zachary could usually manage, even when he was nauseated and didn’t have an appetite. And his doctor approved of a fatty, sugary treat to help him with his weight gain.
“I don’t know. I guess if you see something that I would like.”
“Chocolate? Maple Walnut? Do you have a favorite?”
“Anything.” Zachary flipped through the pages of his notepad. “Cherry Jubilee. Kenzie likes the blue ones. Raspberry. Bubble Gum.”
“Kenzie isn’t here.”
“Right.” Zachary stared at the pages. How had he not seen it before?
It seemed like they were only gone for a few minutes and then they were back again. Mr. Peterson brought back a pint of Cherry Jubilee ice cream and put a scoop in a dessert bowl for Zachary but, by the time he paid any attention to it, it was just a puddle of sweet, cherry-spotted goo.
“Do you need anything?” Mr. Peterson asked before heading to bed.
Zachary realized that the house had been quiet for some time. He rubbed his head.
“Did I… did I screw everything up with Pat’s family? I left right in the middle of dinner, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. They wanted to meet you, and they got their opportunity. They understood that you were working a case. Sometimes inspiration strikes at the most inconvenient moment.”
“Thanks. I really didn’t mean to leave you all in the lurch like that.”
“Do you want something to eat? You didn’t finish your supper.” Mr. Peterson smiled. “Not that I expected you to eat everything that you dished up! But I think you only had about three bites, and it doesn’t look like you made a dent in that ice cream.”
“Yeah… I’ll have some tomorrow before I leave. Is Pat still up? I should tell him that I enjoyed everything… meeting his family and the dinner…”
“He was pretty wiped out after everything he did the last few days to get ready. He took a pill and headed to bed a while ago.”
“Oh. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, then. Was he upset?”
“No. It’s fine. Talk to him in the morning.”
“Okay. Don’t let me forget.”
“I’ll remind you tomorrow, then. Are you going to stay around tomorrow?”
“I might need to go. I have to follow up on this lead.”
“Will it wait one more day?”
“I suppose.” Zachary considered. Gordon hadn’t called him back. The police were not likely to find anything out about McLachlan. If Bridget made her decision that night or the next day, Zachary couldn’t do anything about it.
“Then maybe you should take a day off. You worked most of today. Give your body and brain a break. You’ll be more productive on Monday.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you need anything before I hit the sack? You look like you have a headache.”
Zachary continued to knead his forehead with his knuckles. “Yeah… I guess I do.”
“Your body’s way of telling you you’ve had enough. You want a Tylenol?”
Zachary hesitated. He usually just tried to ‘tough out’ his headaches. He didn’t like to take anything he didn’t have to. With the meds he was taking regularly, interactions were always a danger, and he didn’t know when his body chemistry might change and he would have a bad reaction he hadn’t had before. Or something would stop working. It was best not to mess with the delicately balanced system.
“I guess… just one Tylenol, yeah,” he agreed finally.
Mr. Peterson nodded. “I’ll get you one.”
One precaution that he and Pat had taken was to keep all medications in their bedroom rather than in the bathroom, so that when Zachary was in the darkest depths of depression, it wouldn’t be right there in front of him. One less thing to worry about.
Lorne returned with a pill and a glass of water. He watched Zachary take it. “And you’ve got everything else you need?”
“Yeah. I’m not taking anything else before bed.”
The older man nodded. “Good. All right. I’ll see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep.”
Like Zachary, Mr. Peterson knew that with Zachary’s brain spinning through all of the possibilities, he wasn’t likely to get more than an hour or two of restless sleep.
It wasn’t easy to do as Mr. Peterson had suggested and just take a day off. He wanted to be following up on the new leads. It would wait, but waiting was excruciating.
But Zachary felt like he owed it to Pat to stay and be sociable for another day. To talk to him about his mom and sister and how interesting they had been. He raved about how good the food had been, and had a little of the Cherry Jubilee ice cream for breakfast.
“So… what did you figure out?” Pat asked as he sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “Was it on the case that you were talking about?”
“Yeah, it is. I can’t talk about any details, but I just realized that I’d been looking at everything the wrong way. I know better than to make assumptions, but you always do… there are always things that you have to assume or take for granted as being true when you start on a case.”
“It’s pretty hard to challenge every fact,” Pat suggested.
“Yes. But I know that clients don’t always tell the truth. They keep things back. They have secrets that they don’t want you to know about.”
“And you think that your client in this case lied to you?”
“They usually do… even if they don’t know that they are.”
“That sounds very complicated. How are you supposed to solve a case when they lie to you? Especially if they don’t know they’re lying?”
Zachary thought back to his last big case. Ben Burton. He had told Zachary repeatedly that he didn’t have any siblings and that he didn’t remember what had happened to him as a child. But Zachary had known that those were lies. He had been able to tell by Burton’s body language, even if he hadn’t known it himself.
“Sometimes you can figure it out by what they say or don’t say, by facial expression or body language, the way they react to something. And sometimes… nothing fits until you figure out what the lie was.”
Mr. Peterson had been sitting quietly, listening to them. Zachary thought that Pat needed his personal attention, and Mr. Peterson realized that. He was always so perceptive about his partner’s emotional state.
“Zachary… this case…”
“Yeah?”
“You’re
not working for Bridget’s husband again, are you?”
Zachary supposed he’d given that away when he called Gordon’s home number by mistake and Lorne had overheard him talking with Bridget.
“Well… I can’t really tell you who I’m working for.”
Mr. Peterson pondered on this, taking another sip of his coffee.
“Do you really think that you should be working this case? Doesn’t it… hit a little too close to home?”
Zachary cleared his throat and took another small spoonful of Cherry Jubilee. “It’s, uh… had its moments.”
“You probably shouldn’t have taken it. Don’t you have to recuse yourself if you have a personal bias?”
Zachary laughed. “No. I’m not a judge or even a cop. Gordon—if I was working for Gordon—he already knows my… personal bias.”
“He shouldn’t have come to you. Really. It wasn’t a good idea.”
“Maybe not,” Zachary admitted. “I wasn’t sure about taking it. It took some talking me into it. But he knows I’m the best man for the job.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. You don’t have any objectivity.”
And that had ended up being his big mistake. Maybe if it hadn’t been a case involving Bridget and Gordon, he would have seen what was right in his face all along.
32
Zachary was relieved to finally be making his way back to his apartment. He would go back to Kenzie’s Monday night, after he’d had a chance to pursue his investigations. And maybe by that time, he would have everything wrapped up and would be able to tell her a few choice, non-identifying details. She would be curious how the case had turned out.
At his apartment, he showered, shaved, and changed into a neat shirt and pants, looking better than his usual just-short-of-homeless look. It might even be an interview that he should have worn a suit to, but he didn’t have a suit, and he was afraid that might be too much.
Despite his certainty that he was right and the urgent need to find out, he was anxious.
It had been years since he had seen or spoken to Bridget’s parents.
And she had undoubtedly had plenty to say about him during that time. She would have vented about Zachary and his issues regularly. He was going to be working against a wall of preconceived ideas about him.
Hence the upgraded clothing and clean shave.
Both were now retired. Zachary was sure they were still active in social circles. Like Bridget, they had always been very concerned about appearances and about people knowing how they were serving their community. So there was no guarantee they would be home when Zachary rang the doorbell. But it was still early in the day, and he didn’t think they would be gone yet. Most fundraisers didn’t start earlier than brunch. Not the ones Bridget had dragged Zachary to, anyway.
Mr. Downy opened the door. After a moment of blankness, his eyes widened when he saw Zachary there and realized who he was. He took a step back as if Zachary were being aggressive. His first reaction to seeing Zachary was that he shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t be talking to each other. Mr. Downy hesitated, thinking about this instinctive reaction.
He looked past Zachary, as if he expected to see Bridget there. But when they had been together, Bridget had never stood behind Zachary. She was always out in front, self-confident, wanting to be the first one in.
“Zachary. What are you doing here?”
Zachary cleared his throat. “I’m worried about Bridget.”
Mr. Downy considered this. Then he stepped back, opening the door wider to usher Zachary in.
“Honey, who was at the door?” The diminutive woman who was Bridget’s mother came out of the living room to see. She stopped short when she saw Zachary, then looked at her husband. He nodded to the living room and they all went in and sat down. Zachary shifted anxiously, wanting to be standing or walking around rather than sitting still. But he needed to look calm and reasonable. He couldn’t afford to let them see his wild imaginings and how fast his brain was turning. They would write him off as just being mentally ill and not worth listening to. Any drama or emotion would just be proof that all of the things Bridget said about him were true.
“What’s this all about?” Mrs. Downy asked uncertainly. She looked out the window like she too was searching for Bridget’s yellow Beetle. If Zachary was there, then Bridget must be too. That was how they had been conditioned.
“I came here because I’m worried about Bridget. I know you probably don’t want to see me, with the way that things turned out. But I needed to talk to you… to figure this out.”
“Worried about her how?” Mrs. Downy asked. “Bridget is okay. I just talked to her yesterday. She said she’s starting to feel better.”
“I don’t mean about her physical condition… the pregnancy.”
“Then what?” As far as Zachary knew, Mr. Downy had never served in the military, but that was always how Zachary pictured him. As a captain or sergeant. Crisp and in control, commanding and demanding exacting behavior from everyone around him.
“Gordon called you before?” Zachary suggested, “To ask you about some family medical history questions?”
“Yes,” Mr. Downy agreed. He looked at his wife, then back at Zachary. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you know why he was asking?”
“Because of the pregnancy. He wanted to know what diseases might run in the family. To be prepared for any issues the babies might have.” Mr. Downy shrugged. “I don’t really see the point. Parents today are so paranoid about the future. But they have to wait and see what happens, just like we did. Nothing has changed.”
“A lot has changed as far as medical care and being able to predict problems,” Zachary countered. “And a lot of diseases, if you can catch them early, they are much more treatable. The outcomes are much better. Look at Bridget’s cancer. A generation ago, it would have been a death sentence. Now she is in remission.”
“So the babies might have a predisposition toward ovarian cancer. That’s good to know,” Mr. Downy admitted. “But you can’t predict everything that’s going to strike. It’s not all genetic.”
“But some things are. Some things, they can find in DNA testing.”
“If they can find it in DNA testing, then what is the point of a family medical history?” Mrs. Downy put in. She was small and pretty, like a china doll. She always looked perfectly made up and turned out. Zachary supposed that was where Bridget got her good looks.
Zachary rubbed his palms along his pants, trying to dry the sweat and make himself feel more calm and prepared for the conversation.
“Did Gordon tell you that they had done prenatal DNA testing on the babies?”
They both looked shocked at this revelation. They didn’t need to tell Zachary ‘no’ audibly. Their widening eyes and exchanged look told him everything he needed to know.
“How can they do that?” Mrs. Downy asked. “Do they… put a needle into her belly? And into the babies? That sounds very dangerous and unnecessary.”
“I’m not sure what method they used,” Zachary said. “They can get cells from the amniotic fluid, or from Bridget’s bloodstream. They don’t have to take it directly from the babies. But I don’t know which method they used.”
“They should just wait and see,” Mr. Downy asserted. “That’s how it’s always been done. Just enjoy the anticipation of the birth and see what happens after the baby is born. Chances are, everything is going to be just fine. Why spend all of that time worrying?”
Zachary wasn’t there to argue the morality of finding out the babies’ genetic issues before birth. It had already been done. There was no point in discussing that particular issue any further.
“Bridget had the DNA testing done already. They got the results back, and that was why Gordon was asking you about family medical history.”
“We don’t have any family history of anything bad,” Mrs. Downy said. “Most of our relatives have lived long lives. They die of old age. He
art, I suppose. Eventually, things just wear out.”
“You haven’t had anyone die young?” Zachary challenged. “Maybe due to accidents?”
“How would that be relevant to family medical history?” Mr. Downy put in, shaking his head. “Accidents aren’t genetic. You can’t inherit them. You can’t get anything from people who died young, before they had a chance to get any diseases.”
“But if they died young, you don’t know what they might have carried that would develop later in life. If they have a disease that they wouldn’t show symptoms of until they were sixty or seventy, and they died when they were fifty, you wouldn’t know what they carried.”
“And what would it matter?” Mr. Downy asked.
“Because it might mean that there was a predisposition to a disease hidden in your family tree that had never been recognized.”
Mr. Downy waved this idea away. “We haven’t had a lot of people die young. I don’t think that’s relevant.”
Zachary looked from one to the other. “Does either of you have dementia in your family? Even if it’s never been diagnosed. Someone who was experiencing confusion or mood swings before they died? Or having difficulty walking?”
Neither offered any suggestions. No ‘Aunt Mary’ or ‘Great Grandma Downy.’ They both just looked at him.
“I don’t see how this is an issue,” Mr. Downy said. “You said that you came here because you had concerns about Bridget. What business is it of yours what diseases we have in our family?”
Zachary attempted to move the conversation forward. “I am concerned about Bridget right now. That’s why I came. I haven’t had a lot of contact with her the last couple of years, of course, just chance encounters now and then. But it seems like… she’s been getting angrier at me rather than less. I kind of figured that she would start to ease off after we’d been apart for a while. Sometimes she seems… like her old self. But other times… have you noticed more mood swings?”
“That’s just the hormones,” Mrs. Downy dismissed. “You don’t know what it’s like. The hormones when you’re pregnant are so brutal. I don’t think a man can understand it.”
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