He Was Not There

by P. D. Workman

  Zachary’s scalp prickled as his embarrassment grew. He gave a quick nod.

  “I’m cool with talking. Are you?” Kenzie asked.

  “Uh… maybe. I’ll try.”

  “Okay.” She reached out and cupped the side of his face in her hand, and ran her thumb down his jawline. “Since we’re talking about what feels good and what doesn’t, why don’t you go shave so I don’t get whisker burns all over the place? That will give you a few minutes to calm down, and then we can start over.”

  Zachary agreed and retreated to the bathroom. He was glad to shut the door and to be able to breathe in his own space for a few minutes. He didn’t understand why his throat was so tight and the tears were so close to the surface. He cupped both hands over his eyes for a few minutes, breathing deeply and trying to calm his roller coaster emotions. There was nothing to be upset about. Kenzie had been perfectly understanding and agreeable. She hadn’t criticized him for skipping his appointments or for bringing up his therapy right when she had been ready to engage. There had been no yelling, no recriminations. Maybe that was why he felt so raw and exposed. He’d fully expected an explosion, and she’d reacted with a calm and informed attitude. It was more than he could have expected.

  He ran the tap and first splashed cold water on his eyes and face to head off any tears, then ran the hot water to prepare for a shave.

  She was right, and after Zachary had finished the ritual of shaving, he was feeling a lot more calm and relaxed. He went back to the bedroom and found her on the bed with a housecoat wrapped around her, reading something on her phone. She put it down, smiling at him. “That looks better. And I love the smell of the shaving cream. Come here.”

  He slid in beside her and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the soft skin below his ear, breathing the smell of the shaving cream in deeply and making him break out in goosebumps.

  “Hey!”

  She snuffled against the sensitive skin, laughing. “Does this bother you?”

  “No. It tickles!”

  Her body pressed up against his, warm and soft. He held her close, closing his eyes. She started to kiss him.

  “Just let me hold you for a minute,” Zachary whispered.

  She stopped and snuggled in his arms, molding her body against his. “That feels good, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  He wasn’t sure how far he was going to be able to get before he started to flash back or dissociate. In the weeks immediately following the encounter with Teddy, he had been unable to tolerate her touch or even to let her see his body. Knowing how uncomfortable he was, she hadn’t asked him, once he had been able to let his guard down, about the pink, healing scars on his body. She hadn’t asked him exactly what Teddy had said or done to him.

  Zachary had worked hard to overcome any negative reactions to her advances, which resulted in the natural progression of their physical relationship, but at the expense of Zachary’s mental participation.

  It was going to take time to fix his problems.

  26

  “Zachary?” Heather’s voice was in his ear before he could even greet her on the phone. “Detective Able called to say that they got the DNA results back and we should go in. Would you come?”

  “Sure, of course,” Zachary agreed. He looked over the paperwork on his desk. He had been planning on doing surveillance for a few days, but if he had to put it off for one more day, it wouldn’t hurt anything. He took out his phone and looked at the calendar to assure himself that he hadn’t forgotten about any appointments. “Today?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s a long way to come just to go with me to the police station, but I don’t think that I can do it by myself.”

  “It’s not that far. I don’t mind a little drive. I’ll head over right away. You want me to meet you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll call you when I hit city limits, then we should both get there about the same time. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Her voice was a little calmer with a plan in place. “And do you mind if Grant is there? He wanted to come along too.”

  Zachary frowned at the phone. He wasn’t sure why she needed him there if her husband was going along. She wasn’t exactly going to be alone. But he didn’t know very much about Grant. Maybe Heather would find it harder with him there, instead of easier. Maybe he was the kind who asked too many questions, or was too boisterous, or something else that sucked the energy from her or made it harder for her to deal with the policeman. Maybe it was because of Grant that she needed Zachary there, as some kind of a buffer or to handle the questions when she couldn’t think of what she needed to say. In which case, he’d better be prepared with his questions and not let himself be distracted by her husband.

  “Of course. Bring whoever you want. It’s good that he wants to be involved.”

  “Yeah. It’s just kind of weird. He hasn’t had anything to do with it before.”

  “It will be okay,” he assured her.

  “I hope so.”

  They arrived at the police station at just about the same time. Heather’s husband had driven her. Zachary eyed him as the two of them got out of the car. Grant was tall and had probably been lean in his earlier years when he and Heather had first met and gotten married. He had put on some weight in his later years, around his neck and stomach, but still moved like a younger man. He was outgoing, immediately approaching Zachary and putting out his hand in greeting. “You must be Zachary. It’s wonderful to meet someone from Heather’s family! I knew that she had siblings, but I never really thought that I would get the chance to meet any of them.”

  Zachary looked at Heather. Didn’t he know that she’d been in contact with Tyrrell for some time? Or that she was in contact with their eldest sister, Joss? Didn’t he think that sooner or later he would meet them in person?

  But Heather didn’t speak up. Maybe she hadn’t shared those things with him yet. There had been a lot to tell him, and the information about the progress on the cold case was obviously more urgent than a few Skype calls she had while he was at work during the day.

  “Good to meet you, Grant,” Zachary said, taking Grant’s hand and giving him a friendly nod as they shook hands.

  “You don’t look like her at all,” Grant marveled, studying Zachary’s face. “I thought I would at least be able to see a bit of a family connection, but the two of you couldn’t be less like each other.”

  Zachary looked at Heather. “Well, we could be,” he pointed out. “We have the same skin color.”

  Grant laughed quite a bit more loudly than Zachary thought was warranted. If their parents had been mixed-race, the children could have a variety of skin colors. Or if they were foster or adopted siblings… but they weren’t, and Grant was probably right. With two white parents, he and Heather couldn’t have been much more different. Heather was blond and fair, Zachary was dark-haired, his face lean and hollow where Heather’s was filled in. Not round, but pleasant. And she had those pretty freckles that he remembered from their early summers.

  “Zachary and I are a lot more alike than you would think,” Heather said, touching Zachary’s arm fleetingly as they moved toward the police station together. Zachary smiled and nodded. It wasn’t what was outside that counted. It was what was inside, their shared experience and genetics, the personalities that had been shaped in their early years.

  Able didn’t keep them waiting very long. He seemed surprised to see one more person joining the meeting, and nodded to Grant. “Mr.… er…”

  “Garrity,” Grant offered, and Zachary realized that he’d been introducing Heather as Heather Goldman the whole time, and had never even asked her if she went by her married name.

  “Mr. Garrity. Nice to meet you. Follow me.”

  He led them to a meeting room and they all sat down, the room seeming closer and more claustrophobic than ever.

  Able didn’t have the file with him, just a single sheet of paper, and Zachary couldn’t read it from where h
e sat. Able settled into his chair with a noisy sigh, and wriggled around to get comfortable, something Zachary didn’t remember him doing on previous occasions. Why was he so uncomfortable?

  “It turns out,” Able said, his eyes down, “that in Vermont, the police are prohibited from using partial DNA matches obtained from database searches.”

  They all looked at each other. Heather’s face was blank. Grant’s was confused. Zachary couldn’t see his own expression, but he could barely control himself. Fury rose up inside him that Able would lead them along for weeks and then announce that he was unable to do what they had asked him to.

  “You can’t even search it?” Grant demanded. “I understand that you’d have to get a direct match to prosecute someone, but you can’t even use it as an investigative tool?”

  “Vermont’s current policy is such that we are prevented from doing so.”

  “You can use a partial license plate, why can’t you use a partial DNA match?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, that’s just what the state legislators have determined.”

  “So you can’t give us anything,” Zachary said flatly.

  Able looked at him. There was a gleam in his eye. Zachary tried to understand what Able looked so smug about. That he was telling Zachary what he had told him weeks before; there was nowhere to go with the case and he shouldn’t bother investigating it? Was Able happy that he hadn’t been able to get anywhere? Had it just been a ruse to get them off his back?

  “Why didn’t you tell us before that you wouldn’t be able to do a partial match? You knew we weren’t looking for the baby in CODIS.”

  “With all of the advances in technology, it can be difficult to keep track of what the policies are and what’s allowed or not allowed,” Able said slowly. “Sometimes, for instance, a policeman might put a DNA profile into the system before he’s told that he isn’t allowed to use a partial match. Most states allow a partial match, so CODIS is set up to allow it.”

  Zachary raised his eyebrows. He looked down at the paper in front of Able.

  “So you ran the DNA and then were told it wasn’t allowed?”

  Able nodded.

  “Was there a hit?”

  Able shook his head. “He was not there. No partial matches.”

  Zachary smacked his palm down on the table, making everyone jump. “There’s nothing? You called us in just to tell us that there was nothing?”

  “Nothing is still a result,” Able pointed out. “It means this guy has not been convicted of any other felony. Not since all felons have been required to give a DNA sample, anyway.”

  “That doesn’t help us at all!”

  “I can’t give you what I don’t have,” Able said reasonably.

  Zachary’s blood was boiling. He had put all of his hopes on this one piece of evidence. He had been sure that the baby’s father would be in CODIS.

  Heather put her hand on Zachary’s arm. “It’s okay, Zachary. We knew it was a long shot.”

  Zachary shook her off, irritated. In his brain, the wheels spun, unable to find purchase. After all of the research he had done, there had to be something more they could do.

  “What about public DNA profile repositories like GENEmatch?”

  “Did you not understand what I told you? Vermont cops are prohibited from using partial matches. In CODIS or any other database. The only thing we could use in GENEmatch is a direct match to the donor, but we don’t have the perp’s DNA.”

  Zachary was stymied. He looked at Heather. He did not want to let her down. There had to be a way for him to pursue it further and get more information. According to what he had read, there was a twenty-five percent chance that submitting the DNA to GENEmatch would link the DNA profile to relatives. Those relatives could help them triangulate a single branch of the family tree, isolating two or three suspects.

  “Since you can’t use the pacifier, can we get it back so we can test it?”

  “It’s already booked as evidence. It won’t be released.”

  “Can your lab give us the raw genome data, or transfer it to another lab?”

  “No.”

  Zachary stared at Able. The man had acted like he was being helpful, but he had just destroyed what chance they had of matching the DNA in GENEmatch. He should have told them to start with that he couldn’t use a partial DNA match. Then they could have tested it privately and used the results.

  “Zach… we still have the mittens,” Heather pointed out.

  But were the mittens going to have enough DNA on them to test? Skin cells on the inside, but how much? Maybe the baby had sucked on his hands while he had the mittens on, but as far as Zachary could remember, babies didn’t find their own hands and feet to suck on until they were older.

  “The reason they put them on is because he was scratching his face,” Heather said, as if she could see the inner workings of Zachary’s brain.

  Maybe he got blood and skin under his sharp little nails. Maybe that tissue was transferred to the inside of the mittens. Maybe he’d drooled on them or spit up. There were a number of different ways the baby could have contributed DNA to the mittens. And hopefully, no one else had. It wasn’t as good a source as the pacifier, but it would have to do.

  “If you have another source, that’s your best bet,” Able confirmed. “There’s only so much we can do.”

  Zachary shot him a look, but didn’t say any of the things he was thinking.

  27

  Zachary was still angry and was exhausted by his anger by the time he got home. He had talked with Heather and Grant as calmly as he was able after leaving the police conference room, telling them that he would send Heather the information for the private DNA lab he had come across during his research, and she could send the mittens there. He would contact them ahead of time to explain the situation, and they would give him the raw genome data to upload to GENEmatch once they had done the gathering, preparation, and sequencing.

  He drove home too fast, zipping past commuters on the highway. When he returned to his apartment, he slammed the door, not caring if everybody on his floor heard it. Luckily, Kenzie wasn’t there, so he was free to kick doors and furniture, smack the counter, and handle the dishes for his supper as loudly and recklessly as he liked.

  He felt a little calmer after having something to eat. Mr. Peterson had tried to reach him during the day, when Zachary hadn’t been in any mood to talk, so once he’d had a bit of time to unwind and to regain his composure, he called back.

  “Zach, how are you doing?” Mr. Peterson greeted cheerfully.

  Zachary let out a long breath, trying to stay calm and centered. He didn’t need to dump on Mr. Peterson. He was having a hard time even understanding where all of the anger was coming from, but it certainly wasn’t Lorne’s fault. He forced a smile, knowing that Mr. Peterson would be able to hear it in his voice.

  “It’s been a frustrating day. But I’m okay.”

  “Oh, what’s going on?”

  “Heather’s case. We ran into a brick wall with the police. Which he could have told us about three weeks ago, but didn’t bother to do.”

  “I can see how that would be annoying. I know how pleased you were that they were going to run the DNA and maybe be able to identify Heather’s attacker.”

  “Yeah. Would have been helpful if they had told me that they wouldn’t actually do that. Apparently even though it’s allowed all over the country, Vermont won’t allow the police to do partial matches.”

  “Ouch. Why didn’t he tell you that, then?”

  “I guess he decided to go ahead and run it anyway and get forgiveness later. But… there was no match in the database.”

  “So it doesn’t really matter that it’s against their policy. He wasn’t there anyway.”

  “But that meant he logged the soother and used the DNA and the police won’t share the data. So we’re stuck trying to test another piece of evidence, and I don’t know whether we’ll be able to get enough DNA from it to use for o
ur own purposes.”

  “What would you test it against, if he’s not in the police database? Is there some super-secret private investigator database?”

  Zachary had to laugh, as angry as he was. “No, there’s a public database. People upload their DNA onto it for genealogical research. Anyone can access the shared data. If there’s a match there, we can trace the family trees and narrow down what family the perpetrator came from.”

  “Really?” Lorne whistled. “That’s amazing. People share that information publicly? Why would someone who had committed a felony voluntarily post their DNA to a public site?”

  “It’s not necessarily the criminal who does it. It might be his second cousin, or his aunt, or several different people, which allows you to really narrow down who it is, sometimes to just one or two people. Then you get direct DNA from them, and see if there’s a match, and presto… you have something to build a case on.”

  “Isn’t that automatically enough to convict?”

  “It depends on the source of the DNA. People can leave DNA wherever they go, and it can be picked up by someone else and transported to a new scene. So I could leave hair or skin cells on a doorknob at the coffee shop, and then the next person could transfer it to… their boyfriend’s apartment. The police could pick it up there and put me at the scene, even though I had never been there.”

  “But in this case, where you’re testing the baby’s DNA, then you know for sure that whoever the father is, he’s the one who assaulted her.”

  “It’s only a partial match, because we don’t have his DNA from the rape kit. We only have half of his DNA from a baby that he fathered. They can determine paternity to a certain percentage, but it isn’t ever going to be one hundred percent. And they still have to prove the circumstances, that he and Heather didn’t have consensual sex at some point. She says the only person she had intercourse with was the rapist, but a jury would have to believe her. The defense would do whatever they could to prove that they might have had consensual sex at some other time.”