They Thought He was Safe

by P. D. Workman

“We didn’t always have enough food to get by.”

  “Well… I guess I’m glad I got you that camera.”

  Rocky, the owner spread his hands in inquiry. “So, what can I do for you today?”

  Lorne explained. “Zachary’s got a camera that’s had a little accident. We need to recover the pictures on the memory card.”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Zachary brought out the little camera and showed Rocky the card slot, with the digital memory card wedged firmly in place. Rocky examined it and also the damaged mini USB port, his mind following the same logic as Mr. Peterson’s. He pulled out some tools.

  “How important are the pictures and how important is the camera itself?”

  “The pictures are more important. If the camera has to be replaced, I can deal with that. But the pictures are of some important documents, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get my hands on the originals again.”

  Rocky nodded. “We’ll see what we can do, then.” He started unscrewing the tiny screws that held the camera together.

  Zachary browsed through the store, not wanting to stand there staring at Rocky as he worked on the camera. He would do his work best without someone hovering over him. In a few minutes, Zachary was lost in the world of photography accessories just like a kid in a toy store.

  His phone ringing pulled him out of his happy wandering. He pulled it out and looked at the display, which was a blocked number. He answered the call, his heart speeding.

  “Zachary Goldman.”

  “It’s Detective Dougan, returning your call.”

  “Thanks for calling back. Did you get my voicemail…?” He wasn’t sure whether he needed to start at the beginning or if Dougan was already up to speed.

  “Let’s skip the preliminaries. I believe your John Jama Mwangi matches up with my John Doe.”

  “Your John Doe?” Zachary repeated, heart sinking.

  “Deceased black male, six foot four, slight build, mid-forties to early fifties.”

  “Yes… that could be him. What happened?”

  “Vehicle fire. He’s in the morgue.”

  Zachary was shocked. He was horrified, but at the same time, relieved that John’s disappearance did not follow the same pattern as the rest of the disappearances. It was just a coincidence. It was horrible, but a victim of the serial killer would have just disappeared.

  “How did it happen? An accident?”

  “I would say not. Looks like the car was torched with him in it. It will be some time before we hear from the medical examiner whether he was alive or dead when the fire started.”

  Zachary’s legs went weak. “When did this happen? Where?”

  “It happened in the hospital parking garage, early this morning.”

  He looked for somewhere to sit down, and hobbled over to a chair that had been set up by a camera on a tripod, struggling to catch his breath.

  “But that’s… he came to see me at the hospital last night. He must have… that would be right after he left…”

  “Sounds like it,” Dougan agreed.

  “But… what could have happened? It wasn’t an accident? It was torched?” Zachary echoed Dougan’s words, trying to make sense of them and to form a picture of what had happened.

  “I’d like to know how this connects up with your missing persons investigation.”

  “He is a witness… he believed that these other missing men were all related. He had done a bunch of research into all of the other disappearances, tried to tie them all together.”

  “And you believe him? That they were all related?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to read through all of his research yet.”

  “You have his papers?”

  “I took digital photos of them. He didn’t want to part with the originals.”

  “And he had them in his briefcase?”

  Zachary thought of the papers in the car. In his mind’s eye, he saw the briefcase full of papers catch fire. The whoomp as the fire reached the bundle of papers and started to burn higher and brighter. How the flames would rise and jump and spread to the upholstery, consuming the whole car.

  And then he was there. Not in the car, but in his childhood home as the Christmas tree went up in flames, the fire jumping to the curtains, furniture, and carpet, consuming everything in its path. The air was sucked from the room and Zachary was burning up in it, trying to crawl under the couch and to protect his face with his arms, while the fire roared around him like a living monster.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Z

  achary, you’re okay. Come on back. You’re not there. You’re in the camera store. Open your eyes. Look around.”

  Zachary became aware of Mr. Peterson’s gentle touch and his calm, even voice. If Mr. Peterson was there, then the fire was long extinguished. He could breathe again. Zachary sucked in lungfuls of cool, sweet air. He pried his eyes open and took in the camera store around him, a couple of the employees gawking at him like he was some sideshow freak. Zachary held Mr. Peterson’s arm, trying to ground himself back in the present.

  “You’re okay,” Mr. Peterson repeated.

  Zachary nodded, unable to speak yet. He focused on breathing slowly in and out, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. Mr. Peterson stood there waiting patiently.

  “Sorry,” Zachary apologized.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. You can’t control the flashbacks.”

  “I should be able to. After this long, I should know better than to let myself think…” he trailed off, trying to force his mind away from thoughts that would take him back down that hole.

  “See anything you’re interested in buying today?” Mr. Peterson looked around at the shelves of camera accessories, trying to distract Zachary.

  “Plenty,” Zachary agreed, forcing a smile. “Just like Pat said, I could spend all of my money here.”

  “I’m thinking of a macro lens.”

  “Yeah. Those are cool.”

  “Were you… talking to someone?” Mr. Peterson nodded to the phone in Zachary’s hand. He looked down at it and realized the call was still live. He put it back up to his ear.

  “Uh—hello?”

  “Mr. Goldman? What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

  “I, uh… I get flashbacks sometimes. Sorry.”

  “Flashbacks to what? Were you a soldier?”

  “No. A fire.” Zachary tried to gloss over it, to focus on other aspects. “So everything was destroyed. All of John’s original research.”

  “I would say so. Did he have a suspect? Who knew he was coming to see you?”

  “I don’t know who might have known about it. Just me, and him, and Philippe as far as I know. He didn’t have a suspect… not that he mentioned. I’ll have to see what’s in his papers, but I would think that if he had a name, he would have told me, even if he couldn’t prove it.”

  “And Philippe? Give me his info.”

  “He was a friend of Jose’s. He’s not the one.”

  “You can’t rule out anyone Jose knew. It’s a lot easier to get someone alone if they trust you.”

  “He’s just a kid. Eighteen, maybe.”

  “I need to talk to him. Whether he is a suspect or not, I need to know who he talked to or who might have overheard him. If only three people knew where our vic was going to be, then one of you either torched the car or told the person who did.”

  Zachary sighed. He knew it was true, but he couldn’t imagine Philippe having anything to do with Jose’s death, not even because he had accidentally let slip to the wrong person where John was going to be. He reluctantly gave Philippe’s information to Dougan.

  “I want copies of all of the papers you took pictures of. They could be the key to this case. How soon can I get them?”

  “As soon as I can. The camera got damaged and we’re trying to recover them right now.”

  “The camera got damaged.”

  “Yes. The photos are on t
he memory card, they’re still just fine. But we can’t get the card out. I’m just at the repair place.”

  “You want to tell me what happened last night?”

  “I told you, John came to see me at the hospital. I took pictures of his research. Then he left, and I guess that’s when—”

  “Back it up. I want to know the rest. Why you have a fat lip and were in the hospital last night and how your camera got damaged.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Yes. That.”

  “I had… an encounter with the local skinheads.”

  “I see. Did you report it?”

  “I talked to a cop… I don’t remember his name. I might have been a little doped up on Demerol at the time.”

  “How badly were you hurt?”

  “Cuts and bruises. Nothing broken.”

  “Except your camera.”

  “Yeah,” Zachary agreed.

  “As soon as you recover the photographs, I expect you to get them to me. Can you email them?”

  “Sure, of course. The minute I get them.”

  When Zachary ended the call, he bowed his head, letting out a long breath. Mr. Peterson was still nearby, browsing the accessories and keeping an eye on Zachary. He glanced over and raised one eyebrow. “Okay?”

  Zachary nodded.

  “I’ve got it out,” Rocky announced. Zachary looked over at the service counter and saw Rocky holding up the memory card with a pair of tweezers. Zachary got up, his legs still a little wobbly, and went over to him.

  “And everything is accessible?”

  “Let’s have a look.” Rocky inserted the card into a card reader and watched the computer monitor. “Looks like it’s loading.”

  They watched the file list populate the screen. Zachary breathed out a sigh of relief. “Can you print them out so that we have a hard copy?”

  “There’s quite a bit here.” Rocky changed the view to thumbnails. “Are they all documents? Cheaper to print them on copy paper rather than photographic paper.”

  “Yes. Copy paper is fine. I’m just anxious to have a hard copy right away. It’s easier for me to read than a computer screen. And could I borrow your computer to email out a copy?”

  Rocky hesitated. “I don’t normally let customers use my computer. It’s not a public terminal.”

  “It’s important,” Zachary insisted. He pulled the first page from the printer as it dropped into the tray. “Look,” he showed Rocky the list of names. “These are all missing and probably murdered men. I need to get copies of all of this to the police for them to use in their investigation.”

  Rocky’s eyes widened as he took in the length of the list. He looked at the printer as it whirred and continued to drop pages into the tray. “You can just take it home and email it from there.”

  “Just let me use your computer for thirty seconds,” Zachary snapped.

  Rocky looked taken aback. Mr. Peterson shot Zachary a surprised look from across the store.

  Rocky stepped back from the computer, turning it a few degrees toward Zachary for him to use. Zachary opened the web browser and uploaded them to his cloud account then logged into his email and shared them with Dougan.

  Rocky had moved away to talk with Mr. Peterson, and Zachary realized they were discussing Rocky’s fee to retrieve the memory card and print the files.

  “I’ll pay for that,” Zachary said quickly. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Zachary, we asked you to look into this case. If we were proper clients, you’d be billing us back for your expenses anyway, wouldn’t you? There’s no reason you should have to eat the costs just because we’re family.”

  “But…”

  “Zachary, let me cover it.”

  Zachary gave in. He was exhausted after the flashback and wanted to go somewhere he could be alone to recover. He had sent the files to Dougan. The police would be reviewing them and they would open an investigation into the missing men. Zachary would review the files too, in time, but in the meantime, the police could get started on the information John had compiled. They would probably tell Zachary to stay out of the case altogether, and his involvement would be at an end.

  Chapter Nineteen

  H

  e leafed through the papers as Mr. Peterson drove home, making sure that everything he could remember from the night before was there, captured from the camera. The digital memory card was safely in his wallet. He wanted to analyze everything and start figuring out the case, but his head throbbed and he was tired from the flashback. He just wanted to close his eyes and recover. Mr. Peterson had been talking, but Zachary hadn’t been listening to him. He looked over when Lorne stopped talking, startled by the silence.

  “Are you okay?” Lorne asked.

  Zachary swallowed. He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will be… I just want to make sure.”

  “Yeah. It always tires me out… but that’s all. It will be okay.”

  He sat and listened to the radio and looked through the papers again, worrying that there would be one page missing, the key to solving the disappearances. John’s copies were gone. If Zachary hadn’t taken pictures the night before, then they would have been completely in the dark when the originals were destroyed. Even the list of who had disappeared. Men were forgotten after a while. They had no families and no one knew what had happened to them, and eventually everyone forgot they had even existed.

  Back at Mr. Peterson’s house, they reported to Pat on the recovery of the files. Zachary skipped supper and went to the guest room where he had spent the night before, shutting the door so he could let himself go without being observed. He knew his foster father was not far away if he needed his stabilizing influence, but his immediate need was for space to just be alone with his own thoughts and memories. The next day, he would start compiling the evidence and seeing what he could come up with.

  Zachary awoke in the morning to his ringing phone. He had taken a sleeping pill the night before and had slept through the early dawn when he usually woke. But it wasn’t late. Zachary rubbed his gritty eyes and looked at the screen. It was a blocked call. Dougan.

  “Zachary Goldman.”

  “Goldman, I should throw your butt in jail. What do you think you’re doing, spreading your theories to a reporter?”

  Zachary blinked and tried to figure out what Dougan was talking about.

  “What?”

  “You act like you’re being helpful and cooperative, and then you throw the police department under the bus! How are we supposed to conduct a proper investigation when you tell everybody what’s going on? If we ever had a chance to get close to John Mwangi’s killer without alerting him to our suspicions, that’s out the window now. I can’t believe that you would be so irresponsible!”

  “Detective Dougan… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t. No one else had this information. It could only have come from you. You couldn’t even give us a few days to look at the evidence and pull things together. You just jump in with both feet and put everything in jeopardy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t talked to any reporter. I haven’t talked to anyone.”

  “That’s clearly not true. It wasn’t Mwangi who went to the press. He didn’t have time after talking to you. And he’s been sitting on this information for months already. Why would he suddenly release it after talking to you? He wouldn’t. Because you’re the one who did.”

  “I haven’t talked to anyone.”

  “You’re the only one who had the documents.”

  “Yes. As far as I know.”

  “Then how did they get all over the morning paper? That list of names has gotten everyone in a panic. The phone has not stopped ringing. They want to know how the police could have sat on the news of a serial killer for so long without letting the public know the risk. We haven’t even determined that there is a serial killer! That’s your theory, and it hasn’t been p
roven in any way.”

  “It’s not even my theory. I haven’t gone through everything yet either. I haven’t even verified that all of the men on the list are missing.”

  “Well, you’ve thrown it all into the public eye now, and that doesn’t make it easier for us to investigate, it makes it harder.”

  “I didn’t give it to anyone.” Zachary tried to sort out what Dougan was telling him. “They had the list? I don’t understand… As soon as we got the documents off of the memory card, I printed them off and I emailed a copy to you. That’s it. No one else has seen them.”

  “Who else has access to your computer?”

  “It wasn’t my computer.”

  Zachary’s heart sank as he realized that it must have been Rocky or someone else on his staff. Zachary had lost his cool and told them about the missing and murdered men. Rocky had either copied what was on the card onto his hard drive, or Zachary had left his email box open in the browser, giving him access to what he had sent to Dougan.

  He swore under his breath. “I didn’t want to wait until I could get to another computer to send it to you. So I borrowed the camera shop’s computer to email them to you right away. He must have kept a copy.”

  Dougan swore as well. “Brilliant, Goldman. Just brilliant.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Z

  achary opened the web browser on his phone to look up the local news site to see how bad the exposure had been. Maybe it would just blow over and after the initial panic, everyone would just go back to whatever they had been worrying about before the story broke. If people hadn’t cared about the missing men before, then why would they worry now? After the initial shock wore off, people would decide that they were in no danger themselves and would go back to their own lives.

  But the story had broken big. He immediately saw that it was not only on the local news, but had been reported in the national papers’ websites as well. They were all just regurgitating what the local paper had said and adding that the police had no comment, but it was everywhere. It wasn’t going to just blow over.