He Was Not There

by P. D. Workman

  Even those who tried to help him; Mr. Peterson, Kenzie, Mario Bowman, they pitied him for his weakness and tried to protect him from the stresses of the world because they knew he couldn’t handle it himself.

  He forced a smile and nodded at Heather. “Sure.”

  She looked at him for another minute, then climbed into her car. “He said it would be a couple of weeks for the lab to do their work.”

  “Yup.”

  “And you’ll come in with me when he calls?”

  “Of course.”

  Zachary had, without Kenzie or anyone else in his support network knowing, been skipping his appointments with his therapist ever since getting back after breaking the Teddy Archuro serial killer case. He would call his therapist’s office a day or two before an appointment or even the day of, and announce that he wouldn’t be able to attend due to some work or family emergency. They would dutifully reschedule, and he’d have a couple more weeks before he had to do it again.

  After all of the talks with Kenzie and Heather, he decided it was time to tough it out and actually go to his appointment. So he sat in the upholstered chair in front of Dr. Boyle’s desk and waited for her to begin the session. She wrote down the date at the top of the page at the front of his file, then flipped back to look at the last session notes. She flipped through a few pages, frowning.

  “Has it actually been that long since you’ve been in, or are we missing some session notes?”

  Zachary cleared his throat. “It’s been quite a while,” he admitted. “I’ve rescheduled… a few times.”

  “A few? What’s been going on?”

  He sat there looking down at his hands. If he wanted to get help, then he needed to be truthful with her. He knew all of the things he would tell Heather. He would tell her that she needed to be fully open and honest if she wanted to get the benefits of the therapy session. That there was no way for the doctor to know what she had been through if she didn’t explain it. But he wasn’t sure how to start.

  “Zachary? How about you tell me what’s happened with you since the last time you were in for a session?”

  “I had a case.”

  “A case of what?” She didn’t look up from the file.

  “A missing person case. Someone I was supposed to track down.”

  “Oh. Of course. And how did that go? Did you find him?”

  “I was…” Zachary was a little baffled that she didn’t seem to be aware of anything that had been reported in the media. “You didn’t see any of it on TV or the internet? About the serial killer they arrested?”

  She looked up, frowning. “Yes, I heard the buzz about that, of course.”

  “That was my case. That’s what it turned into. The missing man was one of his victims.”

  “You broke that case?” Dr. Boyle looked astonished.

  “They didn’t even know there was a serial killer before I started. I was the one who had to convince them that they were looking for someone who had been killing gay illegal immigrants for years.”

  “And you tracked down who it was.”

  “I sort of… walked into his net. Not the best way to track a killer.”

  “No,” she studied him, “probably not the best.” She swiveled her chair toward her computer. “Do you mind? My recollection of the articles that I saw is really vague. I don’t know how I didn’t connect that you were involved in the case.”

  She brought up a browser window and tapped in her search. Her screen immediately filled up with hits, and she opened one of the top links, the comprehensive story by one of the big national syndicates. Zachary saw Teddy Archuro’s handsome face. She scrolled down too fast to actually be reading the article, but maybe skimming the headings as she moved down the page. She paused at a picture of Zachary, the one Rhys had of Zachary leaving the hospital. She stared at it for a long minute.

  “I never would have even recognized you. I’m sorry, I never clued in that this was you.” She was silent as she read the next portion of the report. Then she clicked to minimize the browser and turned to him, her expression grave.

  “If I’d realized… I would have made sure my office manager knew not to reschedule you.”

  Zachary shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

  “You should have been in here for extra sessions, not skipping out.”

  “I just didn’t feel like I could handle it. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Well, now it’s time to pay the piper.” She sat back in her chair, giving him her full attention. “Let’s talk.”

  Zachary awoke to the ringing of his phone. He had given up on leaving it on vibrate, sleeping through too many important client calls. He had selected the loudest, most annoying ring he could find, and kept the sound on whenever he was at home. When he left the house, he could turn it back to vibrate so that he could drive or meet with clients without interruption, but when he was at home, he needed to know when people were calling him.

  He picked it up and looked at the face. Heather.

  “Hi, Feathers.”

  She gave a little laugh, not so surprised by this greeting as she had been the first time. “Hi, Zachy. How are you doing?”

  “Fine. What’s up?” He tried to figure out what day it was and to count back to when they had given Able the DNA sample. He was pretty sure that it was too soon to have any results back yet, even if they had put a rush on it.

  “I told Grant.”

  “Told him what?”

  “Everything. Well…” she trailed off a little. “I couldn’t tell him everything at once, that’s just too much, but I told him the main points. About… the assault and the baby, and giving him away. And about you, and opening up the case again. And the DNA.”

  “That’s a lot. How did he handle it?”

  “Really well.” Her voice was warm. He could hear the relief in it. In spite of everything that they had all told her, she had still been afraid that he would reject her when he heard the truth. He would consider her damaged goods, or think it was her fault, or would be angry at her for keeping it a secret for so many years. But that hadn’t happened and Zachary was grateful to the man that he’d never met. He’d shown Heather the respect that she deserved, and that would go a long way to helping Heather to talk more about the details and to start the healing process.

  “I’m glad. That’s really good.”

  “And you know… he actually wasn’t that surprised. I always thought I’d done a pretty good job of hiding my past and acting like nothing had happened. But he’d suspected for a long time. He said he knew that someone had hurt me that way. He knew that I had issues that I’d been trying to cover up all these years.”

  “Didn’t he ever ask you about it?”

  “Well… little things, now and then. He never pushed hard, and I was never ready to tell him anything about it, so he’d just let it go.”

  “Patient guy.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, he is. Waiting all this time, through pregnancy and kids and being empty-nesters, before I finally told him what had happened.”

  “I’m glad you did it. You sound… less burdened.”

  “Yeah. That’s how I feel, too. Lighter. It’s been really hard all of these years, to wear a mask the whole time. Or at least the whole time that I was with other people. Being here alone in the house, sometimes I could let go, and cry or scream into a pillow. I didn’t even always know what was bothering me. Just that everything was too much. That I was unhappy all the time, even though nobody was doing anything to make me feel that way and I could choose to do whatever I wanted to… I just couldn’t find anything that would make me happy. I didn’t have anything I wanted to do. Except maybe sleep. Grant and the kids used to joke about how I needed afternoon naps more than the kids did. I would just…”

  “Hibernate,” Zachary contributed. “Shut it all out and not have to think about anything.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  They were both quiet for a bit.

  “How about you, Z
achary?”

  “What?”

  “How are you doing with everything? When I came to you, it was because of that guy. Because I knew that you had gone through what I had gone through, so you would be able to understand. I’m just wondering… how you’re managing.”

  He sighed and stared off into space. Heather was one of the people who wouldn’t accept that he was just fine and had gotten over his experience with Teddy Archuro. She knew that even if he were doing everything he could for his mental health, it was going to take time, and that his mind would need time to heal just like his body did. And it would take longer.

  “I went back to my therapist. I couldn’t tell her much, but she knows now, and she’s modified up my schedule, so that I’m seeing her more often. I’m still… not really ready to talk about what happened.”

  “Yeah. That’s okay. You don’t need to rush it. Work around the edges.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you seeing someone?”

  “Yeah. I called some of the numbers that Able gave me. So I’ve got a therapist, and a doctor who has put me on a few meds to see if they will help with my focus and depression, and I’m going to a couple of support group meetings a week now, while I try to sort it out.”

  “That sounds like a lot. It must keep you busy.”

  “Not really. But I’m trying to get out to other places too. Going for walks. I might do some volunteering. I’ve never really worked, so I don’t know if I’ll get a job, but I can at least help out at a shelter or soup kitchen. Do something for other people. Think about other people who are going through troubles too, instead of just myself. It might help.”

  He thought about her sleeping the days away, like he had been, blocking out the memories, not just for days but for decades. He didn’t want to live that way. He didn’t like it when he couldn’t sleep, either. It seemed like there should be a happy medium somewhere between not getting any sleep and having to sleep all the time, but he couldn’t seem to find it.

  “I could teach you some stuff about skip tracing and some other basic detective work. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

  “Really? You think I’d be any good at that?”

  “There’s a lot of stuff that you can just do on your computer. Finding people, doing background, scouting out surveillance locations, that kind of thing. It wouldn’t be anything dangerous. It’s not like on TV. I don’t carry a gun and end up in firefights with suspects. I don’t even own a gun.”

  “No, but you have gotten yourself into some trouble,” she pointed out.

  “Well… that’s not stuff you’d have to do, though. Kenzie says these things wouldn’t happen to me if I just thought things through and made better decisions.” He paused. “Just like every school teacher and foster mother always told me. Being a private investigator doesn’t mean that you have to put yourself in harm’s way. And you don’t even have to have a license to do a lot of the stuff that I do. If you’re interested…”

  “Yes!” She surprised him with her vehemence. “I’d love to learn about what you do. I don’t know if I’d like it or not, but since you’re offering… yeah, I’d like to give it a try.”

  25

  Kenzie had been working long hours for a couple of weeks, staying late and putting in so much overtime that a lot of the time she didn’t even have time to talk to Zachary on the phone. Surprisingly, that was okay with him. He felt like he needed some time to himself and that he hadn’t had any since he had returned home from the Archuro investigation. Kenzie had been there too much, attentive, watching him, trying to keep him on track, and it had been suffocating him. It was good that she had to pull back and focus on her work more.

  Dr. Boyle said that Zachary needed to talk to Kenzie and get things sorted out with her, but he was content that for a couple of weeks anyway, he had a good excuse not to. She had too much on her plate as it was. She didn’t need a needy, damaged boyfriend trying to split her attention.

  But she had put away the big case that she and the rest of the medical examiner’s office had been working on, and had arranged for a celebratory dinner at their favorite buffet. She claimed she was going to take a full week off and just sleep the whole time. That sounded like paradise to Zachary, but he knew she wouldn’t actually do it, and that even if he tried to sleep for a solid week, he would still have to get up and think about his life and deal with his career and relationships and face the world. There wasn’t any way he could just turn off for a week or two.

  Back at the apartment after dinner, Kenzie waved away Zachary’s suggestion of a movie and popcorn.

  “I want to spend some time with you,” she insisted. “It’s been crazy hectic and you’re important. I know it hasn’t felt like it lately, and I want to make up for it.”

  “We would be watching together. We could cuddle. I could rub your feet.”

  Kenzie shook her head and gave his hand a little tug to urge him toward the bedroom. “Real time. Not screen time. Just you and me. That foot rub is not a bad idea. And maybe a back rub. Maybe a full-body massage. And whatever else we need to do to get totally relaxed.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him in a Groucho Marx impression.

  Zachary followed her without objection, but his mind was going a mile a minute. Kenzie sat down on the edge of the bed, and patted the center of it. “Come on. Come here. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

  He did as he was told. Kenzie kissed him, pushed him down, and embraced, putting her weight on him. Zachary put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. Kenzie rolled onto her side and looked at him, curious but not upset. Looking at him to see what he wanted.

  Zachary swallowed. He looked past her, but then realized he was shutting her out and tried to focus on her face. He looked at the bridge of her nose rather than into her eyes. “I’ve had a few appointments with my therapist.”

  She cocked her head. “Yeah… but you’ve been doing that forever, haven’t you? For at least the last year.”

  “No.” He pressed his lips together, biting them inside and trying not to feel like the little boy who had been caught shoplifting. “I’ve been skipping out. Avoiding it. Ever since… you know.”

  She leaned back onto one of the pillows, fluffed it up and repositioned it, and continued to look at him. She was relaxed. Not jumping all over him. He’d been expecting a Bridget-scale explosion, demanding to know why he hadn’t been going to his appointments and how he could have lied to her and told her that he was. He wasn’t sure he had ever lied to Kenzie about it straight out, but he had certainly obfuscated and never intended for her to know that he was skipping them.

  “And now you’ve started going again,” Kenzie prompted.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry…”

  “No. Go on. I’m glad you started going back to him.”

  “Her.”

  “What?”

  “Her. My therapist is a woman.”

  “Why did I think it was a man?”

  He shrugged uneasily. “I might have let you think that.”

  “Why? Did you think I would be jealous? Or think it was inappropriate?”

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to think I was spending time with another woman, I guess. Or telling another woman things about myself and our relationship.”

  She shook her head, smiling and bemused. “I don’t know why you think that would bother me.”

  “Just being silly, I guess… Bridget might have minded.”

  “Might have, or did?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t really seeing anyone while I was with her. Just whoever I needed to see to get my meds. Bridget never liked me talking to other women…”

  “She’s one crazy broad.”

  “She’s not crazy,” Zachary protested. “If anyone was crazy… it was obviously me.”

  Kenzie chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to argue with that part. You’re kind of veering off topic though. You’re seeing your therapist again. That’s where this started. So tell me
about that.”

  Zachary hesitated. He shifted around on the bed, trying to find a position where he was comfortable and didn’t feel vulnerable. It was difficult talking about intimacy when he was on the bed with her and feeling so exposed.

  “I talked a little about us, and about dissociation…”

  “Good.” She nodded. “I’m glad you talked about that. What did she have to say?”

  He felt a little more confident going on. “She talked about grounding and anchoring. Ways to help me to stay present when I have a flashback or something starts bothering me. And she said that we—you and I—should try to find things that are less triggering, and get gradually more comfortable before… moving into things that are more triggering.”

  “Okay.”

  “The trouble is…” Zachary gave a helpless shrug and his face heated. “Pretty much anything is triggering right now, so I don’t know what to do about that.”

  “We could talk about it.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “No… I don’t mean talking about it as a concept. I mean, talking about it in the moment. Talk about how it feels. When she’s talking about anchoring, is she talking about noticing concrete things in your environment? Five things you see, five things you hear, stuff like that?”

  Zachary shouldn’t have been surprised that she would know the technique, but he was. He nodded and rubbed his short whiskers. Kenzie was in the medical profession, so why would he be surprised? She was the one who had brought up his dissociation, so she had probably researched it on her own, looking for ways to help him or fix their relationship.

  “Yeah. That’s what she was saying.”

  “So you can talk to me about what you’re seeing and feeling, right? That will help you not to dissociate. And if something bothers you too much, I’ll know right away and can back off. It’s not that different from telling your partner when something feels good or you want them to do something differently, is it?”