“What was that?”
“It’s okay. Just a dream.”
Zachary looked around, but Kenzie wasn’t sure whether he was truly awake.
“Zach. Are you awake?”
He rubbed his eyes and peered around. He didn’t wear glasses, but he squinted as if everything around him was blurred. “We have to get them out,” he told her. “We have to get them all out.”
Kenzie knew which dream he was having. She blew her breath out slowly and kept her voice calm and soothing. “It’s just a dream, Zachary. Everyone is okay. Everyone got out.”
He cocked his head for a moment, unsure, trying to process her words. “They’re all in there. They can’t get out by themselves. They can’t walk.”
That was a new spin. When Zachary’s house had gone up in flames when he was ten years old, his siblings had all been old enough to walk. They hadn’t been strong enough to break the windows, but they had been able to walk. The firefighters had been able to rescue them, while Zachary remained trapped in the living room full of smoke and flames, sure that he and his entire family were all going to die. Who couldn’t walk?
“Everyone is fine,” Kenzie repeated. “Everyone got out.”
Then his eyes finally focused on her. He looked at her, then at the lamp and at the room around him in confusion.
“You’re safe,” Kenzie said. “Everyone is fine. It was just a dream.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “A dream... I dreamt... the nursing home was on fire.”
Kenzie raised her brows. “The nursing home? Because I was talking to you about Champlain House at supper today?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
Sometimes their conversations or worries about a case worked their way into Zachary’s nightmares. It wasn’t predictable, so there was no way to avoid it. They both enjoyed discussing crime and solving forensic clues, so they weren’t likely to stop discussing anything that might trigger him.
Zachary ran his fingers through his stubbly hair. He rubbed his eyes with his palms. Kenzie reached over for the lamp.
“Okay now? Shall I turn this off?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Kenzie turned the light back off and then cuddled up to Zachary, hoping that he would be able to get back to sleep if they didn’t spend too much time talking and focusing on the disturbing dream.
Zachary’s dream had Kenzie thinking about the nursing home in the morning while she luxuriated under a hot shower. They had not found anything in the Cartwright case to make her think that they were not taking care of their residents properly and following all the rules and regulations they were bound by. If nothing showed up on the slides and lab tests that they had sent out, Dr. Wiltshire was inclined to write it off as simply heart failure. Possibly due to a virus. Even the most innocuous virus could be dangerous to someone who was old or had an otherwise compromised immune system.
All the paperwork that had come from Champlain House had been in order. It would have made her feel better if he had been discovered sooner, and not lain on the floor for half the night, but it wasn’t a case where they were required to check on him every fifteen minutes. Until recently, he had not had any issues and therefore didn’t have a bed alarm to alert the staff if he got up in the night. He’d been independent and that meant that they left him alone unless he pressed his call button for help.
There hadn’t been any red flags. On the contrary, the facility had provided all the paper they were expected to and more. Willis Cartwright wasn’t the first resident from Champlain House to make it to the morgue, and he wouldn’t be the last. Being a senior care center, there would always be deaths at the home. Many of them would qualify as deaths that had occurred while in the care of a doctor and wouldn’t even go through the Medical Examiner’s Office.
While Zachary’s dream had made Kenzie consider whether there were any issues at Champlain House, she didn’t think that it was portentous. There wasn’t going to be a fire at the nursing home. She knew exactly why Zachary dreamed about fire. There was no mystery in that.
6
Much of Saturday had been spent running errands and doing chores around the house. Things that got pushed to the wayside when Kenzie was working without breaks in her schedule. And while Zachary was pretty good about sharing her space and keeping his possessions to limited areas, there was still more cleaning and other chores to do with another person living in the house. Especially if he spent most of his time working from there rather than going back to his own apartment or out in the field.
“We should visit Lorne and Pat Sunday,” Kenzie suggested to Zachary after turning off the vacuum cleaner. “We have the time; we should take advantage of it.”
Zachary’s eyes brightened. Lorne Peterson had been his foster father for a few weeks when he had first been put into foster care, and he was the only parent Zachary had kept in contact with. When Lorne had later separated from his wife and begun a relationship with Patrick Parker, it had been quite scandalous from what Kenzie could tell. But more than twenty years later, the two men were still living together and, for the most part, society accepted their partnership. For a lot of years, they had been Zachary’s only family.
“I’m sure they’d be delighted,” Zachary agreed. “I’ll give them a call.” He stopped and looked at her, something else in his expression that Kenzie couldn’t read. “Unless...”
“What?” Maybe Lorne and Pat already had other plans Zachary was aware of.
“I just thought... I don’t know when the last time you saw your parents was. Do you want to see one of them?”
Kenzie shook her head. “Not really.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your family.”
“You’re not. I talk to my mom on the phone and email her, but I really don’t need a face-to-face visit. She’s always so busy with all her causes. She would just try to get me involved in whatever she’s working on right now. ‘I’d love to see you, MacKenzie; you can help me to sort the clothes donated for the Kidney Foundation. And bring that young man of yours along to the Cancer Society fundraiser...’” Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, it’s better to keep your distance.”
“You’re always so accommodating about seeing Lorne and Pat or one of my siblings, but we don’t see your family. What about your dad?”
Kenzie groaned and shook her head. “No. Trust me. He’s not your kind of person. I love spending time with Lorne or one of your sibs, but seeing my dad is not a holiday.”
“Neither is Joss,” Zachary pointed out.
Kenzie chuckled.
The first two siblings Zachary had been reunited with decades after the fire were Tyrrell and Heather, and they were both friendly and easy people to like. Kenzie enjoyed being with them and hearing their stories about when they had all been children, before the fire. Joss, on the other hand, was hard and acidic. She was challenging to get along with and kept everyone at a distance.
“Well... okay. But my answer is still no. I’d rather see Lorne and Pat than either of my parents.”
Someday, she knew, she was going to have to introduce Zachary to her parents. They would all be gracious about it, but Kenzie didn’t want to deal with her parents’ questions about Zachary’s suitability and stability. And she didn’t want to have to explain her family dynamics to Zachary. She didn’t really understand them herself. Their family was broken. Maybe not as badly as Zachary’s, but Kenzie also didn’t think there was any chance it could be put back together again. Amanda was gone. Her parents, while still friends, were divorced. And Kenzie had had as little to do with them as possible since uncovering the secrets they had been keeping about Amanda’s last transplant.
Zachary nodded his understanding. He understood dysfunctional families. As far as Kenzie knew, he never had tried to find his biological parents. Neither had his siblings. And the two youngest siblings still hadn’t made contact with Zachary.
“I’ll call Mr. Peterson then, and make sure they’re going to be a
round,” Zachary agreed.
One of the few points of contention between Kenzie and Zachary was whose turn it was to drive when they went to visit Lorne and Pat. Zachary enjoyed highway driving. It was one of the few activities that tamed his hyperactive brain and anxiety and allowed him to just chill out and be in the zone. But he also drove much too fast for Kenzie’s comfort.
With her little red convertible, she should have been the speed demon. But she wasn’t. She occasionally allowed her baby to creep up over the posted speed limit by a few miles an hour, but she stayed within reasonable limits. Enough that she had never been cited for speeding and had only been pulled over once. The officer had been easy to charm and had let her off with a warning. Kenzie hadn’t been pulled over since. Zachary didn’t usually get caught, but he liked to fly. Kenzie was always sure he was going to get into an accident, but he seemed totally in control when he drove. Like a fighter pilot.
“You drove last time,” Kenzie reminded him. “You said that I could drive the next trip.”
Zachary looked for an argument. With Vermont’s climate, he often pulled the ‘weather’ card, insisting that it was too cold to drive a convertible that distance. But the weather had been nice, and Kenzie’s baby would enjoy getting out on the highway instead of being cramped up in city streets all day.
“You just had bodywork done,” Zachary tried. “Out on the highway, if someone hits a bit of gravel...”
“I’m not afraid of a few dings and scratches. Most of them will buff right out.”
“A windshield chip won’t.”
“I’m driving,” Kenzie said firmly. She looked him in the eye.
Zachary shrugged and looked down, conceding as she knew he would. “Fine. You’re right; I think it is your turn.”
“It is,” Kenzie asserted.
There was less leg room in the convertible than in Zachary’s car, but neither of them had particularly long legs, so that wasn’t an issue. Zachary settled himself in the passenger seat as Kenzie sat down and turned the key, bringing the engine roaring to life. She ignored his restlessness when they got out to the highway. He wanted to be at the wheel. Once or twice before, he had even proposed that they go in separate cars, just in case they needed to return home at different times. They both knew very well that convenience had nothing to do with it; he just wanted to drive. And once he had an idea in his head, it was hard to let it go.
“How did they sound?” Kenzie asked, trying to distract him. “Everything going good?”
“Sounds like it. Mr. Peterson—Lorne—said that they were going to try reducing Pat’s antidepressants. See if he still needs them, or if a lower dose will work just as well.”
“That’s good. That sounds positive.”
“Yeah. They wouldn’t be doing that if they had any concerns. I think his depression was mostly situational. Losing a friend like that. Jose, and then Dimitri. Finding out that it was someone that he knew. That was tough on him.”
“I can see why,” Kenzie agreed. All things considered, Pat had fared pretty well. It was a lot to deal with all at once, and if he were able to keep stable at a lower dose or even without antidepressants, that was good news. Kenzie knew that both Lorne and Zachary had been concerned about him.
Zachary stared out the window now, his restlessness stilled, but, Kenzie worried, maybe now obsessing over his involvement in Jose’s case and the dark paths it had led him down. Pat might have recovered from his loss, but Zachary hadn’t been able to make as much headway against his demons. What had happened to him at the hands of the sadistic killer would be with him for a long time. Kenzie didn’t know all the details, but she knew that those memories would always be in the shadows whenever she touched him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Zachary took a few more minutes to pull his attention from the scenery racing past the window. He looked down at his phone and busied himself with checking his email or social networks.
“Anything exciting?” Kenzie prompted.
“No.” Zachary tapped his screen. “Looks like your John Doe made it to the local news.”
“Oh? What does it say?”
“Just that they are trying to identify him. They have a picture.”
“It’s too bad there wasn’t anything identifiable on the body. Tattoos or implants. Something traceable.”
“You think he was homeless?” Zachary stared down at his screen.
“That was what the police speculated.”
Zachary made reverse pinching movements, zooming in on areas of the photograph. “He doesn’t look homeless.”
“You and I both know that you don’t have to look homeless to be homeless.”
“No. But he’s... very clean and well-groomed.”
“Well, we do that before we take a picture. Wash him, try to make him as presentable and lifelike as possible. It makes it easier for people to identify him.”
Zachary still wasn’t convinced. “You did his hair?”
“I wasn’t involved. It must have been yesterday. But yes, we’d comb hair. Add a bit of makeup. Try to make him look natural.”
“But you don’t cut the hair.”
“No. We don’t change his look. You change someone’s hairstyle, and it changes the shape of their face. We want to keep everything the same.”
“His hair is shaped. Like a barber does. Not just cut one length.”
Kenzie glanced sideways at Zachary. “He might have had a friend or family member do it. Or a freebie at one of those expo events, when they get service providers together.”
“How about his teeth?”
“They were in good shape. But maybe he hasn’t been homeless for long.”
“Or maybe he’s not homeless.”
Kenzie shrugged. “Maybe,” she agreed. “I can take another look tomorrow.”
“Look at everything. How old his clothes are, what brands they are. His shoes especially. Teeth, nails, hair. Not just where he was found or how dirty his clothes were.”
“Makes sense. If you’re right, maybe the police are talking to the wrong people.”
7
Kenzie could see Zachary straightening up and becoming more engaged as they approached Lorne and Pat’s home. He slid his phone away and put his hand on the armrest of the door, waiting for Kenzie to take the last few turns. There weren’t very many people in Zachary’s life that were so important to him. When Zachary got attached to someone, he got really attached.
Zachary was out of the door as soon as Kenzie pulled to a stop in front of the house. He held himself back then, waiting for her to get her seatbelt unlatched and pick up her purse. Always the gentleman, walking her up to the house instead of leaving her behind while he ran to the door, no matter how eager he was.
“I’m coming. Just give me a second.”
Zachary nodded politely. They walked up to the house together. Zachary rang the bell, then, after a moment’s hesitation, opened the door and let himself in. Lorne didn’t greet them at the door as usual, so Zachary looked around the corner into the living room for him.
Lorne was sitting in his usual chair, but his foot resting on the footrest in front of him was encased in a cast.
“What’s this? What happened?” Zachary asked, leaning over to give him a hug of greeting. His brows drew down and there was a deep crease between them.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just a little mishap,” Lorne assured him.
“Nothing? They don’t put casts on nothing. What did you break?”
“I broke a couple of metatarsals. They said a few weeks in a cast and it will heal up fine. Tell him, Kenzie.”
Kenzie wasn’t a podiatrist or orthopedist, but she had her MD. She nodded her agreement. “If it’s just a hairline or a clean break, it will heal in no time. What did you do to it?”
“I just dropped something on it. It wasn’t anything.”
“I told you those Polish sausages would kill you,” Pat called from the kitchen
. “Now you’ve been warned!”
“Sausages?” Zachary repeated, a smile replacing his worried frown.
“A package of frozen sausages, yes,” Lorne admitted, shaking his head ruefully. “They jumped out of the freezer at me, and I didn’t get out of the way fast enough.”
“I hope we’re eating them tonight.”
Lorne looked surprised. “Do you like Polish sausages?” They were always looking for special foods that would tempt Zachary to eat more despite his poor appetite. If one of Zachary’s favorite foods was sausages, Kenzie was sure that Pat and Lorne would both know it already.
“I don’t know.” Zachary shrugged. “But it seems a fitting punishment for them breaking your foot.”
Lorne laughed. Pat poked his head in through the doorway to the kitchen. “I think so too! In fact, they are on the menu tonight. I’m making a stew.”
“Whatever it is, it sure smells good,” Kenzie told him. The hearty, spicy aroma filled the house, so thick she could practically taste it. “I can’t wait.”
“Good. I’ve just got a few more veggies to chop, and then I can let it simmer and join you for a visit.”
Zachary and Kenzie sat down. Zachary looked at Lorne’s cast and shook his head again. “Why didn’t you tell me you broke it? When did this happen?”
“Just like you tell me any time you run into trouble?” Lorne teased. “It was just last night. After you and I talked. Or I would have mentioned it when you called.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Zachary wasn’t convinced.
“I would have, because I knew you were coming and would give me a hard time if I didn’t tell you ahead of time.”
Lorne leaned back in his chair. His face was round and cheerful. If the broken bone were bothering him at all, he didn’t give any sign of it. His fringe of hair was gradually turning white, but he still moved like a young man. Other than when he was trying to avoid ferocious Polish sausages, apparently.
Doctored Death Page 3
