Chapter 1
Zachary gazed out the front window at a delivery truck moving slowly down the street. He couldn’t help but feel anxious when he saw a courier. The last package that had been delivered to him had not been what he had expected. It would be a while before he could feel the same excitement and anticipation opening a box or envelope left on his doorstep.
“You okay?” Kenzie asked.
Zachary swallowed. He nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah, sure. I’m good.”
She evaluated him, her dark eyes serious and her bright red lips pursed. She nodded slowly, her dark curls bouncing a little, a movement that always made him want to touch it and wind the curls around his fingers. But he refrained, turning his attention to the breakfast preparations.
“Coffee is on,” he told her, though he wasn’t sure whether he had turned on the machine or she had. “I’ll pop some toast in for you…” He noticed the smell of the toasting bread mixing with that of the coffee. Obviously one of them had already done that job too. He got out plates and cutlery and found her marmalade in the fridge.
“Where are you going this morning?” Kenzie asked.
He hadn’t told her he was going out anywhere, but she could tell from his shirt—a button-up shirt rather than just a t-shirt or polo—that he was planning to meet with someone today. He didn’t dress up for computer work, going for a walk, or running errands. Or for a surveillance job, unless he was positioning himself in an office building or somewhere such an outfit would blend better than his usual work “uniform.”
“Meeting with a potential client. Not sure yet what kind of a case it is,” he anticipated her next question. “He didn’t want to discuss anything over the phone. And I like to meet with possible clients face-to-face in the beginning. Remote work and communicating electronically are fine, a convenient way to run a case, but I like to get a read on a person before I accept the job.”
“You never know what you might be getting into otherwise,” Kenzie suggested.
“Yeah. Surveilling a possibly adulterous spouse is one thing, if the guy is just looking for information. But if he’s lying and is really an abuser trying to find an ex who is hiding from him…”
Kenzie nodded, understanding, as she poured each of them a cup of fresh coffee.
“Can you always tell, though?”
“I’m pretty good at reading people. That doesn’t mean that I don’t ever make mistakes… but if I’m not sure, I’ll turn them down, say I’m too busy to give their case the attention it needs right now.”
“So someone else gets the job?”
“Well…” Zachary didn’t like to think that he was only delaying the abusive husband finding his runaway wife. Still, it wasn’t like he could do anything to keep the man from hiring a private investigator who didn’t have the same scruples or intuition as Zachary. If he were determined to find his wife, there wasn’t much Zachary could do other than refuse the work himself.
“Hopefully, he’s so disappointed by my refusal that he can’t bring himself to approach another PI,” he told Kenzie. “You can see how crushing that would be.”
Kenzie chuckled. She took a sip of her coffee. The toast popped and Zachary buttered it before putting it on Kenzie’s plate and grabbing a yogurt cup for himself.
“Yes, that would definitely be a consideration,” Kenzie agreed. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to be turned down by you.”
Zachary tried to figure out whether there was any secondary meaning to her statement, but decided just to take it at face value. He sat down across from Kenzie and opened his yogurt cup. He usually had a yogurt cup or a granola bar for his breakfast with Kenzie. He was more in the mood for a granola bar today but didn’t want to unwrap one with Kenzie watching him. The noise of the crinkling wrapper was like fingernails on the blackboard, and he wouldn’t be able to hide his grimace from her. She was already watching him closely enough without his giving her something else to worry about.
“Do you think it’s wise?” Kenzie asked.
Zachary looked at her, uncertain. He had probably missed something else she had said and lost the thread of the conversation.
“Taking on a new client right now,” Kenzie said slowly. “I mean… this time of year…”
So close to Christmas. She tried to avoid saying it, but they both knew what she meant. At this time of year, when he might shut down completely and not be able to do any work.
“No… I’ll check him out and see whether it is a case I want to take on. And I’ll warn him I might need to take a few days off around the holiday. People are usually pretty good about it if you let them know… set expectations.”
He was doing really well this year on the new med protocol. At this time last year, he had been in the hospital psych ward, unable to deal with the depression and control the thoughts of self-harm without professional help.
But that was last year. He was much better this year. The anniversary of the fire, that Christmas Eve disaster, was quickly approaching. It was a struggle to keep his spirits up and function at the same level as he did the rest of the year and he dreaded slipping further into the abyss. But he was functional. The work, especially the novelty of a new case, would help him to stay focused on something other than traumatic memories.
If he had to take a few days off, he could do that. It wasn’t unusual for someone to take a few days off work for family around Christmas. His client would think nothing of it.
“I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed,” Kenzie said. “It might be better if you didn’t take too much on until after… maybe in the new year.”
“It isn’t too much,” he assured her. “I mean… depending on what it is. If it’s too big and he needs answers in two days, that’s another story, but most people are not in a big hurry.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Of course. Yes, I will.”
Kenzie nibbled her marmalade toast and studied him a little too closely. Zachary’s face warmed.
“Did I miss a spot shaving?” he asked, brushing his hand over his face to break the eye contact and allow him to look away. “Or are you just admiring my manly scars?”
The numerous small cuts from the explosion were healing, but it would be a while before they were all gone. One or two of the deeper ones that had needed stitches might leave scars. Nothing that bad. They would blend in with his other scars. And when he let his whiskers grow for a few days, as he usually did, they would be camouflaged.
Kenzie smiled and shook her head. “It must be the manly scars,” she said lightly. “I just can’t seem to tear my eyes away.”
He blushed further, even knowing she was teasing him. His ears burned and were probably bright red.
She dropped the conversation thread and didn’t insist that she knew better than he did about managing his business at this difficult time of year.
She was having her own difficulties this year, and Zachary wondered whether that was one reason she was so concerned about his state of mind and traumatic memories. Either empathizing with him because of her own feelings or trying to distract herself by focusing on someone else’s problems.
Zachary needed to pay attention to Kenzie’s mood and stress levels, not just his own. She needed his support just as much as he needed hers.
Chapter 2
Zachary had agreed to meet Oliver Dwayne at a coffee shop. Neutral ground. They were past the morning rush, so the venue was not too busy. But it wasn’t empty, either. People came and went, both individually and in pairs or small groups. Zachary and Oliver would not stand out.
Zachary ordered a pot of coffee, and the waitress placed a couple of mugs on the table for him. He kept an eye on the door, watching for the man he was to meet.
Most people who walked into the coffee shop went directly to the counter or a table and ordered what they wanted. They either settled in to work on a computer or tablet or left with a “to go” cup as soon as they were served. They didn’t look around to try to find the person they were to be meeting with.
Then, a man walked in, stopped, and looked at the other customers. Tall and distinguished, dark hair with streaks of gray at the temples. A short, carefully shaped mustache and beard. His cheeks were prominent, face narrow. He looked like someone who had been through a lot, but he was strong and confident. Well-dressed, but a little weatherworn and vulnerable, too.
Zachary stood partway up from his seat, and the man’s eyes met his. He walked over. He put out a hand and raised his brows. “Mr. Goldman?”
“Zachary, please. Mr. Dwayne?”
“Oliver.”
“Have a seat,” Zachary motioned to the table, and Oliver sat down. He poured himself a full mug of coffee and drank it immediately, no cream or sugar. He gulped it so fast it must have burned his throat.
“This is difficult,” Oliver said. He put his cup down and dabbed his lips with a napkin. “I suppose we do all of the usual small talk first.”
“Sometimes it puts people at ease,” Zachary told him, smiling slightly. “But we don’t have to. Whatever you’re most comfortable with. If you want to jump straight into the case, you can.”
“I just want to get on with it. It’s hard enough without having to deal with social conventions. I have no idea what the usual protocol is for something like this.”
“There really isn’t one. Everyone approaches it differently.”
Some people wanted to get to know Zachary and build that relationship first. Some of them beat around the bush, hoping Zachary would guess what they were there about. Some blurted it out and then cowered back, waiting for the fallout of having spilled their guts and made themselves so vulnerable.
Oliver seemed to need some questions to get closer to the issue. Zachary evaluated him. Not married, he didn’t think. He didn’t wear a ring. Didn’t have that “cared for” look, the confidence that he was going back to someone who was waiting faithfully for him. So there was probably not an unfaithful spouse to tail. That was a relief because he really didn’t like those jobs.
A business deal gone bad? Industrial espionage? It didn’t feel like it.
Maybe a missing person? Maybe someone he had lost touch with long ago and wanted to reconnect with?
“This is a personal matter?” Zachary guessed.
Oliver nodded. “Yes. It’s personal.”
“Family? Someone you’ve lost touch with?”
An expression of sadness settled over Oliver’s face. An expression that was clearly natural for him. Profound sadness. But not a sadness that he shared with others. He put on a different face to deal with Zachary—his public face.
Not a missing person. A loss, yes, but not someone he had lost touch with or fallen out with.
“Someone you lost?” he amended.
Oliver nodded. “Yes… I don’t even know why I am here. I dealt with this a long time ago. I put it behind me.”
Cold cases were difficult. Evidence disappeared. Witnesses forgot what they had seen and heard. Alibis were almost impossible to establish. And the longer ago it was, the harder it was to get any traction.
“How long ago?”
“Ten years.”
Zachary nodded. Better than twenty or fifty, but still difficult.
“Who? What happened?”
Oliver gave a long sigh. He turned his coffee cup in place on the table, rotating it in a circle once, twice, and a third time before he could get anything out.
“My wife.”
So he had been married. But ten years ago. Long enough to lose the look of a married man.
Oliver didn’t answer the “what happened” immediately. He swallowed, considering how to tell Zachary about it.
“She was shot,” he said finally.
Zachary nodded and waited.
“The police said that it was accidental. Just a freak thing. I accepted that and moved on. It was… so tragic. I couldn’t spend time wallowing, mourning her, questioning their findings. I had children. They needed me. I had to be the strong one, the one to move everyone forward. We couldn’t stay focused on the past, the ‘why’ of it all. It was an accident… so we went on.”
“How old were your kids?”
“Nine, thirteen, and fifteen.”
Zachary had been ten when he lost his family. He knew what it was like to lose a mother at that age. Though his mother had not been shot. And she had not been the loving, caring parent he had craved.
“Tough time to lose your mother,” he sympathized, staying focused on Oliver’s situation and not his own.
“I think any age is a difficult time to lose your mother. Especially so suddenly and violently. But yes, it was terrible for them. We had to draw closer together, help each other through it.”
“They were lucky to have you. It sounds like you were there for them.”
“I thought I was. Now… I wonder if I was or if I just went through the motions. I had work to do. I still had to support them financially as well as emotionally, and I wonder how well I did. I want to say that I didn’t bury myself in my work. But I did to a certain extent.”
“It’s natural,” Zachary said. “Trying to distract yourself. To focus on what you can do rather than… spinning your wheels. The police told you it was an accident, so what else could you do?”
Oliver spread his hands apart. “What I’m doing now. Hiring someone. Digging down deeper into it. Not just taking things at face value.”
“Well… you are now. Maybe this will bring you some peace.”
Certainly, Oliver didn’t look like he was at peace now. More like he was haunted. Zachary didn’t know if he could help him find that peace, but he liked Oliver and what he had seen of him so far. He wanted to do what he could, though he didn’t know how much that would be after the passing of ten years.
“How did it happen?”
He hoped that it hadn’t had anything to do with the children. He could only imagine what that would do to the family.
“She was in her car. Out for a drive. The bullet went through the window and struck her. She was found hours later. There was nothing that could be done by then. The police said it was probably a hunter, kids playing with a gun, or someone doing target practice. Something like that. Just a freak accident that couldn’t have been predicted. Out in the country… people think they can fire off their guns whenever they like. They think they’re alone, so… why not?”
“Did they talk to anyone who had heard the shots? Had anyone been out target shooting?”
“They never found anyone who had been out that way with a gun. Maybe kids. Kids who never even knew that they had ended up killing a woman with their carelessness.”
“How hard did the police try?”
It wasn’t a very tactful question. But Zachary would need to know. If there had been an extensive search and investigation, there might be nothing more for Zachary to do. Was there a chance that he might find something ten years later that the police had overlooked?
“I don’t think… I don’t think they did much investigating at all. I think they just assumed they knew the story. We weren’t looking for someone to blame. If it was an accident, I certainly didn’t want some kid to go to jail for it. Ruin another life for no reason.”
Zachary could understand that. He sipped his coffee. In ten years, Oliver’s kids had all grown to adulthood. One or two of them might still be at home with him. They might know other kids in the neighborhood who had been old enough back then to find some witnesses. Or to identify any borderline “bad apples” who might have been experimenting then.
“So… if you didn’t want any kid being sent to jail for it back then, what has changed your mind?”
“It’s the blasted phone calls.”
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