Chapter 1
Zachary was alert as he approached the meeting place, watching for any vehicles following him, either close behind him or at a distance. He normally did not like to meet a new client at an isolated location. He much preferred a busy coffee shop or some other neutral ground, out in public, where he could be seen and have some measure of protection by virtue of the number of witnesses.
He had run into cases in the past where a “new client” soliciting his private investigator services was actually a cheating spouse or employee looking for revenge after being unmasked by one of Zachary’s investigations. People tended not to be happy when their philandering or fraud was exposed.
But Roger, the man who had called him most recently, did not want to be seen in public. He had managed to talk Zachary into meeting him at another location, where they would not be seen but where, hopefully, Zachary could still ensure his safety.
The scenic lookout that Zachary had chosen was located on a road with a high volume of traffic, so there were still witnesses who would see if things went awry. It was on a long, straight stretch of the highway so that Zachary could see whoever was approaching, and there was little chance of an ambush. Roger could stand at the lookout and view the spectacular scenery below them, face turned away from the road so no one would recognize him, and Zachary could stand with his back to the rail so that he could see Roger’s face and any approaching traffic. He could stay just two steps away from his car so that he had a way to escape.
He thought it provided the most security possible, without putting either of them in a vulnerable position. The risks were manageable.
At least, he hoped so.
As he approached the pull-out for the scenic lookout, he could see that he was the first to arrive, as he had planned. He checked his mirrors again and pulled over. The traffic continued to flow past him. No one slowed too much or swerved out of the traffic to pull in beside him.
Zachary stepped out of his car, leaving the door wide open despite the resulting warning alarms. He walked the length of the pull-out area, staring into the trees at either end for anyone hiding, lying in wait. He scanned the wilderness from the lookout—across, up, down, into the lush, verdant trees. He was alone. He allowed himself a moment to breathe deeply and appreciate the Vermont scenery, so peaceful and healing. Just a few leaves had turned color, but in a couple of weeks, the trees would be a riot of color and the leaf peepers would be everywhere, gaping and taking pictures.
Zachary pulled a camera from his pocket and framed a few careful shots, breathing the crisp, clean air and listening to the sounds of the birds and rustles of the leaves in the woodlands around him. The sky was a bright, brilliant blue with only a few wisps of cloud. A gorgeous day. He was glad that he had been compelled to leave Roxboro for a drive to meet the new client, whether it was a case he chose to take or not. It was good for him to get out of the house and be in nature.
He was out of the walking boot that had protected his badly sprained ankle, but it still caused him some pain. He had a protective wrap to give it some support and was still using crutches, but it was not quite as awkward as it had been with the boot.
Zachary looked up and down the highway, checking the time on his phone. Roger was not due to get there for a few more minutes, and Zachary was reassured that everything was in order. No one was lying in wait.
Undoubtedly, Roger simply suspected a spouse or employee, perhaps a neighbor, and wanted a private investigator to look into it. But he didn’t want to tip them off as to what he was up to.
Which was best for all involved. Namely, Zachary.
The phone in Zachary’s hand rang, and he looked down at it. His first instinct was to ignore it. Roger would be there any minute, and Zachary’s attention should be focused on him. He wanted to be alert and show Roger that he was the man for the job if Zachary deemed it to be a case he wanted to take.
He was not going to get into anything that might entail risk. Not after his recent undercover stint at the Turning Trail Recovery Center. He needed time to heal physically and mentally after the rigors of that case. Right now, he wanted to stick to simple jobs. Mostly computer work. Some light surveillance or investigation. Nothing that would put him in the path of anyone violent.
He’d seen enough violence lately.
Just a nice, safe case.
The caller ID on the phone showed that it was Manny, one of the residents Zachary had met at Turning Trail. He had been friendly and supportive of Zachary, the kind of guy who always reached out to include others and knew how to make them feel welcome. Zachary could keep the call short and still be ready for Roger when he got there.
He swiped to accept the call. “Manny, how are you?”
“Hey, Zed. Kind of missing all of the excitement that you brought with you at Turning Trail. Things are awfully quiet here by comparison.”
Manny and the other residents of Turning Trail had been relocated to other facilities, and Turning Trail closed down during the government investigation now being conducted. Too many of the staff had been involved in the illegal operations at the facility, and the programs could not continue to operate until the various agencies involved in the investigation were certain of who could be trusted and who could not.
“How are things in Burlington?” he asked Manny. “Is it… a better program?”
“Well, they are definitely running things differently. No night-night meds, and I don’t get the feeling that the contraband is as prevalent.”
“That’s good. How are you feeling?”
“Anxious, but… okay, I guess. I could leave now if I wanted to, but… I just need some time before I go back to my life on the outside.”
Manny had already completed the full three-month program at Turning Trail and had stayed on for a second round. Zachary thought that he had been clean at Turning Trail, aside from whatever pill he was given at night to help him sleep. Unfortunately, in many cases, that had been fentanyl. This did not bode well for actually being able to stay clean for long on the outside.
“Good, it sounds like you’re doing really well,” Zachary encouraged.
“And you? How are you healing? Still look like a raccoon?”
Zachary touched one of the bruises under his eyes, testing for any remaining puffiness or pain. He had touched it up a bit with concealer for his meeting with Roger. Sporting a broken nose and two black eyes did not exude competence. He looked okay with the concealer. His usual dark-haired, dark-eyed, hollow-cheeked homeless look. Though he had shaved.
“The black eyes are mostly green and yellow now,” he informed Manny. “A few more days…”
“Well, don’t run into any more walls.”
“I don’t intend to,” Zachary told Manny, forcing a chuckle.
“So…” Manny’s voice was hesitant. “Everything is okay then? No bad aftereffects?”
Zachary thought about the recurring nightmares, the increased friction with Kenzie, his anxiety level during the day.
“Yeah,” he said lightly. “Things are good. Don’t you worry about me. Just worry about keeping yourself clean and healthy.”
“You got it,” Manny agreed. “I’m going to be out of here in no time. Once I’m sure that I’ll be okay on the outside.” His voice was strained with anxiety, and Zachary hoped that his own lies weren’t quite as transparent.
Chapter 2
Zachary slid the phone back into his pocket and resolved not to worry about Manny or answer any calls until after he’d met with Roger.
He might succeed in not answering any calls.
He practiced some deep breathing, trying to slow his heart and relax his muscles. He was in a beautiful setting and he should enjoy it.
Ten minutes later, a little red Toyota pulled into the turnout. Zachary waited. He assumed it was Roger, but of course, it could be someone who just wanted a look at the scenery. The little waterfall and river below the lookout were picturesque, like they had come out of a movie about fairies.
The man who stepped out of the car looked across the roof at Zachary and met his gaze. He was average height with a medium build. Bigger than Zachary, but not huge. It was a warm day to be wearing a jacket, but it was perfectly matched to the business suit that peeked out from underneath it. Well-tailored. He looked like an office manager or salesman. Not at the top of the food chain, someone in middle management who didn’t have a lot of control over his own life, but did have supervision over a few other people. Maybe a secretary of his own, or maybe one he shared with someone else.
Dark hair and eyes. Glasses. Maybe progressive lenses, by the looks of them. His eyes had hit middle age and needed more assistance.
Roger didn’t look angry or anxious. Maybe a little uncertain about being there, but he was confident enough to give it a try.
“Zachary?”
Zachary nodded and didn’t move. He wanted Roger to come around his car to meet with him. Zachary would be two steps from his open car door, but Roger would be all the way around the other side from his. It gave Zachary a quick escape if he needed it, with Roger unable to pursue him immediately.
Roger stood there for a minute, stubbornly refusing to walk around his vehicle. However, in the battle of wills, Zachary prevailed, and Roger eventually walked around his car to join him. He forced a nervous smile and reached out a hand to Zachary to shake.
The man’s hand was warm and slightly moist. He had a firm, assured grip.
“Hi, Roger Thatcher. I’m sorry for all this cloak-and-dagger business; I just didn’t want to be seen talking to a private investigator by anyone I know. I don’t want to have to explain… all of this.”
“I understand,” Zachary agreed. “Why don’t you tell me what you need?”
“Well…” Roger turned to look down at the waterfall and the river. “It all seems a little silly when I say it out loud. I mean… like I’m stuck in the middle of a bad TV show or movie. This isn’t me.”
“I do work for a lot of ordinary people,” Zachary assured him. “I’m not some Magnum P.I. or Philip Marlowe. I just… look into things. Help ordinary people out with ordinary questions that they don’t have the skills to pursue. It doesn’t have to be a deep, dark secret or a terrible crime. Just something that you need someone to look into for you.”
“Yeah? Yeah, that’s what I need. Just someone to help me out. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Think of it as research. I’m happy to be your research assistant, if I can. What are you worried about?”
Roger was still for a minute, considering. He didn’t wring his hands or give any other sign of distress, keeping whatever emotions he was experiencing under wraps.
“I’m a family man,” he explained. “Wife and kids. They’re very important to me. Been married for twenty-two years now.”
“That’s very impressive in today’s world. You don’t hear a lot.”
“No. When I attend reunions or get together with old friends or extended family, everyone seems to be divorced or in their second or third marriage. Agnes and I have been lucky.”
“Or worked hard to maintain the relationship. I doubt it is all luck.”
“No, you’re right. Of course. There are always challenges, some frictions that plague a relationship. But we’ve been able to work through them and come out stronger than ever.”
Zachary smiled. He hoped the smile didn’t look as forced and plastic as it felt. He approved of what Roger said, of course, but the bit about coming out stronger than ever sounded like a soundbite. As if it were something Roger had heard on TV or a radio show.
“But lately, you’ve been wondering if everything is still okay with your wife,” Zachary suggested. “Things haven’t been the same, and you want to make sure that she’s still faithful to you.”
“Oh, no, no!” Roger gave a single bark of laughter, waving this idea away with a flap of his hand. “No, this isn’t about her! Things are good. They’re good. I wouldn’t change anything. This is actually… about my daughter.”
“Oh…” Zachary drew the word out and readjusted his thinking. Roger was not worrying about his straying wife, hoping Zachary would prove her fidelity—or lack thereof. Instead, it was the daughter. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”
“Leila,” Roger informed him, and gave a little smile. He licked his lips. “She’s twenty. A smart girl, very kind, well-rounded. I would say ‘Daddy’s little girl’ if it didn’t sound so creepy and indulgent. She really is the light of my life, my little princess, however cliche that all sounds. I guess there is a reason you hear these things over and over again. It’s how dads really feel about their little girls.”
Zachary nodded. “And then they go and grow up.”
“Yes,” Roger laughed again. “Then they grow up. On one hand, I wish it weren’t true. That Leila could stay Daddy’s little girl forever. But I’m also proud of the responsible young woman that she has become. It’s very gratifying to see how she has turned out. I’m not afraid of her getting married and leaving us, or of becoming a grandpa. I look forward to those things.”
Zachary made an encouraging noise, waiting for Roger to work himself up to giving Zachary some idea of what it was about his perfect daughter that he was worried about.
Roger scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing a little. He looked away from Zachary, down at the river at the bottom of the ravine again.
Zachary tensed, waiting for the revelation.
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