“You’ll see a doctor? In the ER?”
Spencer nodded his agreement.
Zachary just watched him for a few minutes, trying to think of what else to say to him, how he could help the man.
“A lot of men are abused,” he said. “It isn’t just women who are abused by their spouses, but men are afraid to speak up. Afraid that they’ll be made fun of. That it makes them less manly and people will look down on them.”
Spencer shook his head. “I don’t care about machismo, Zachary. Look at me. I’m as geeky as they come. I don’t have a reputation to protect.” He rubbed his chest and side. “It’s not Isabella. It’s just from coughing.”
It was a crisp, cold day, and Zachary had to keep moving to keep his toes from freezing. Moving around constantly wasn’t a very good way of keeping surveillance. People tended to notice a grown man bobbing and pacing as if he badly needed to pee.
He held his camera up and took some random tree shots. He zoomed the telephoto in on a squirrel and tracked it is it busily gathered nuts or pinecones and went up and down the tree. He looked back toward his subject to make sure he hadn’t gone anywhere or met anyone and went back to taking pictures of the squirrel.
Maybe if he ever retired, he’d take up wildlife photography. At least he wouldn’t have to write up surveillance reports. Retirement was a long way away. If he lived that long.
Glancing back, he saw the subject was on the move again, and swung his telephoto lens the other direction, pretending he was focusing on the waterfowl near the pond that hadn’t completely iced over.
As he watched, the subject handed a thick catalog envelope to a man in a long, black overcoat. Mae Gordon’s insurance agent. He was given a smaller envelope in return. An envelope that, while thinner, could still contain a pretty nice wad of cash. Zachary clicked away, recording all the details he could.
Kenzie answered the phone after four rings. Zachary had almost decided it was going to go to voicemail, and then there she was.
“I wasn’t sure I’d find you at work,” he told her. Though, of course, he knew that was exactly where she would be. “I thought maybe you would take off a few extra days for Christmas.”
“No, it’s a pretty busy time of year down here. Christmas is hard for some people.”
“Yeah.” Zachary kept his voice carefully unemotional.
“Your ex called me Christmas Day looking for you. She sounded pretty upset. I gather she found you?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
“What did she want?”
“Just to wish me a Happy Christmas. Make sure I was okay.”
“See, I told you she doesn’t hate you.” There was reserve in Kenzie’s voice. A tinge of jealousy? “That was nice of her.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. We didn’t get together. She just wanted to make sure I got through Christmas okay.”
“I’m not worried,” she said breezily. “So… when are you going to tell me about it?”
“About Bridget?” Zachary asked blankly.
“No, not about Bridget! What your deal is with Christmas. It must be one helluva story.”
“Oh… well, it’s not a fun story. Nothing you want to hear.”
“I do, though. You’ve got me curious.”
Zachary hummed. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s not a story I tell casual acquaintances. Maybe later… when we know each other a bit better.”
“You’re very secretive.”
“I’m just… a private person. There are a lot of things in my past that I’d rather forget. If I have to keep telling the story, I can’t leave it behind.”
“I don’t like secrets.”
“It’s not a secret. Just private,” Zachary repeated.
“Huh. Does it apply to New Year’s too? Do you have bad feelings about New Year’s?”
“Not specifically.”
“Good. Why don’t we do something, then?”
Zachary’s spirits perked. “I’d like that,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe you can help me with that. I don’t want a big party. Maybe a smaller gathering, or maybe just watching TV with a big bowl of popcorn.”
Either way, the last strike of midnight signaled not only the playing of Auld Lang Syne, but also a kiss. So far, his dates with Kenzie had not been very intimate, and he looked forward to the possibility of that changing.
“I like the popcorn idea,” he said. “But I’m open to whatever you want to do.”
“Great! I’ll put together some options and run them by you, but I’d better be getting back to work here.”
“I did have one more thing,” Zachary inserted before she could cut him off. She didn’t hang up the call.
“Oh. Sorry! What was it you called about?”
“I didn’t call just to ask you, but I did want to know…”
“Fire away.”
“I wanted to know if it’s possible to break a rib coughing.”
“Well!” She giggled at that. “That’s a funny question. The answer is yes, it is possible. Not real common, but possible. You can break a rib coughing or sneezing. Or blow a blood vessel in your face or eye and end up looking like someone battered you. Or you could have an accident because of coughing or sneezing, banging your head on something in front of you with the force, or tripping, or breaking a tooth or a filling. Or crashing your car. You could do an internet search. There are lots of bizarre injuries that can be attributed to coughing or sneezing.”
“Huh.”
“Is this a case, or just random trivia?”
“It is a case, actually. A case involving spousal battery… or maybe just a cold.”
“That’s a tough one. She could be telling the truth. Or it could just be a more creative version of ‘I walked into a door.’
“Any way to tell?”
“No. Not really. Just watch for patterns. A broken rib from coughing isn’t something that should reoccur with any regularity. Especially in the absence of a cold or pneumonia. Keep an eye on her.”
Kenzie had suggested they begin with a nice dinner at the local inn, which was renowned for the on-site chef and his expensive creations. Zachary’s pocketbook would certainly take a hit, but he imagined that the dress Kenzie would pick out for such a fancy restaurant on New Year’s Eve would be well worth it.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Kenzie had checked. “We’re not going to run into your ex there?”
“No. Bridget has other plans for New Year’s.”
“You know her plans?”
“She told me over Christmas,” Zachary assured her. “Besides, I know the kind of things she likes to do New Year’s Eve, and quiet little restaurants in out-of-the-way places are not on the list.”
“Okay. I just want to make sure. I feel like we always end up running into her or getting a call from her, and I want this one to be just you and me.”
“No one else,” Zachary promised. “She’s going to be with her new boyfriend. They aren’t going to be anywhere near the inn.”
After dinner at the inn, they would return to Zachary’s apartment and have popcorn in front of the TV, if they still had enough room for it. Zach knew that fancy gourmet meals tended to be smaller than the typical burger or prime rib dinner, so he figured he’d still have room for popcorn. He’d been craving it ever since Kenzie suggested it.
He would have the perfect evening with Kenzie, with no interference by Bridget or anyone else.
Chapter Fourteen
The inn’s reputation was well-deserved. Zachary had been a little nervous about trying anything gourmet, which made him think of caviar and escargot and other kinds of raw fish and meats. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach anything too unusual. He usually returned to meat and potatoes as his comfort food.
But the restaurant’s New Year’s menu had been excellent. A whole series of small courses, with tastes from all around the world. Even if a diner didn’t like one it
em, there were so many to choose from that skipping over one or two courses along the way was not a problem. Zachary left the inn with Kenzie, feeling satisfied but not overstuffed. He’d still be able to eat some popcorn while they watched old movies on TV, or whatever Kenzie felt like watching. He didn’t care what it was, as long as he got to cuddle up with her on the couch. She had on a daring red dress, and he was looking forward to the chime of midnight, if not earlier.
He helped Kenzie with her coat as they stepped outside and were assaulted by a biting cold wind. At least she’d had the presence of mind to bring more than just a filmy wrap to cover her up while she was outside. A smart woman dressed for the weather in spite of fashion, prepared for any car trouble rather than relying on the car heater for the evening.
“What’s that?” Kenzie asked, pointing.
Zachary held the car door for her, then went around to the driver’s side to pick up the flyer pinned under the windshield wiper. He got into the car and started it up, making sure everything was set to warm before dropping his eyes to the flyer.
You were told to drop the case. I warned you.
“What is it?” Kenzie repeated.
Zachary’s first instinct was to crumple it into a ball and insist that it was nothing, but she was a grown woman and had made it clear she didn’t want to be lied to and protected. He handed it to her.
Kenzie’s eyes went over the page. A crease appeared between her eyes. She turned it over, examining the blank back as well.
“That’s kind of disturbing,” she said. “How often do you get these?”
“Third one from this idiot.” Zachary checked the controls for the heater again, not wanting to look at her. “Trouble is, they’re all as half-baked as that one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he doesn’t say which case it is!”
She looked back down at the note and gave a little laugh.
“Oh! Well, that’s an ego problem, I guess. He—or she—thinks his case is the biggest and most important, and you should know right away which one it is.”
“Exactly. He also never actually makes a threat. Or what? Drop the case, or he’ll do what?” Zachary shook his head.
“And you don’t know which case it is?”
“I can narrow it down, just because of the timeframe. There are only three or four cases that started before I got the first note that I’m still working on now.”
“And which of them would fit the profile of this note?” She squinted at it, considering. “Something personal, I would think, where someone’s reputation is at stake. With a… less-than-brilliant target.”
“I’m not sure about that. He’s smart enough to find my house and my car. It might just be ego, like you said, not lack of intelligence.”
“I suppose that’s a little more difficult… especially the car, when you’re out and about like tonight. How did he know you’d be here? Who did you tell your dinner plans to?”
“No one.” He didn’t tell her that he didn’t really have any friends close enough to care where he was going or what he was doing New Year’s Eve. That just sounded pathetic. “It’s possible he just happened to see my car in the lot and thought he’d use the opportunity.” Zachary shook his head. That didn’t sit right. He didn’t think it was a viable theory. “You stay here for a minute.”
Leaving Kenzie to enjoy the warmth of the heater, he climbed back out into the biting wind. He took a walk around the car, turning on his phone flashlight app to look for markings in the packed-down snow around the car. He couldn’t find anything suspicious. He crouched down by the bumper first at the front of the car, then the back, and took off his glove to feel under the bumper. That’s where he would have put a tracker. But it could be anywhere on the underside of the car, and he wouldn’t be able to do a thorough search until he could get underneath and examine every inch with a good light.
Zachary got back into the car.
“Anything?”
“No. Not that I could find. I’ll have to get it up on a lift later to see.”
He clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times to get the blood flowing again, and used numb fingers to turn on his GPS tracking app. The chances were not great, but it was worth a try. He searched to see if there were any transmitters nearby that he could pair with. No luck. He skimmed over the map, checking whether any of the subjects he was tracking were close by.
“What’s that?”
Kenzie was looking at his phone screen. Zachary shut it off and slid it into his pocket.
“Just a GPS app.”
“You don’t know how to get home from here?”
“I’m just checking who might live or work nearby, who might happen to drive by and see my car here.”
Kenzie put on her seatbelt. “Your car isn’t that distinctive,” she observed. “It looks like a hundred other cars in the city. Who is going to drive by and know that it’s yours?”
She was right about that. They would have to know his license plate or be following or tracking him. It wasn’t just serendipity that they had seen Zachary’s car parked at the inn.
He sighed and put the car into gear to back out, and then pulled onto the highway.
“Is it just like the other notes?”
“I… don’t know. It’s pretty generic. Why?”
“I’m just wondering if maybe it isn’t about a case. Maybe it’s your ex, and she’s trying to disrupt our date.”
“No.” Zachary was certain Bridget was nowhere close to the inn. “It’s not Bridget.”
“How can you be sure? Like you said, the note doesn’t say which case. It doesn’t actually specify any threat. Maybe that’s because she’s trying to disrupt your date, not get you off of any particular investigation. When did you start getting them? Or maybe this one is a copycat. Does Bridget know about the other two?”
“Uh… no. She doesn’t know anything about them. I’m the only one who does. Me and the person sending them.”
“And you’re one hundred percent sure that’s not Bridget.”
“One hundred percent,” Zachary agreed. His skin prickled with goosebumps at the suggestion. Zachary readjusted the direction of the heating vents, trying to get warmed up. “It’s not Bridget. You can be sure of that.”
“Okay… because you know she’s jealous about you seeing me, right?”
Zachary blew his breath out his nose. “I don’t know whether it’s because she’s jealous, or just because she’s mad at me.”
“She’s jealous.”
“Why? She’s been dating other men almost since the day we broke up. Why would she care if I start seeing someone?”
“People are rarely logical.”
There was a period of missing time.
Zachary was aware of a haze of pain. Of someone crying and shouting beside him. He couldn’t move. There were lights and voices, the chaos around him making it too difficult to focus on one thing, to figure out what was happening.
“It will be okay,” a voice told him. “Help is on its way.”
He felt as if everything were upside down. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the shapes around him.
“Zachary? Are you okay?” A woman’s voice. Not Bridget’s. He couldn’t figure out whose voice it was.
“What happened?” he asked. But the words didn’t come out properly, and all he could hear was moaning.
He drifted in and out, sometimes trying to pinpoint the source of his pain and sometimes trying to turn the world back the right way around again. People kept fading in and out, telling him not to worry. Telling him everything was going to be okay.
Lights strobed in his eyes, so bright he had to screw his eyes shut to avoid their assault. He wanted to put his hand over his eyes because it was still too bright, even through his eyelids.
“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?”
The new voice was loud and insistent. Zachary tried to block it out. His body was cold, and he had an overwhelming feeling of sleepin
ess. He decided that he must be home in bed. Maybe someone had left the window open. That was why he was having such strange dreams. He was cold, and his body was trying to wake him up. If he just snuggled under the blanket and waited, the furnace would kick in, and he’d be able to go back to sleep.
“Sir! I need you to stay awake. Can you talk to me? Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”
Zachary tried to shake his head, but it felt wobbly and weak. The world did a couple of somersaults.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?”
Zachary tried to form the words. Only a moan came out.
“Zachary,” a woman’s voice said. “His name is Zachary.”
“Zachary?” The loud, insistent voice burrowed into his head. “Are you in pain? Can you squeeze my hand?”
The world spun. The loud voice stopped for a while. Zachary tried to process some of the words that whirled around him.
Jaws of life.
Backboard.
Inside his belly, he started to shake. Where was his blanket? Why wasn’t he warm enough?
He wished he could get out of the dream he was trapped inside. Maybe he needed to go to the bathroom. Sometimes he had bad dreams when his body was trying to wake him up to go relieve himself. Zachary tried to focus on his body’s signals. Did he have a full bladder? Was that why he needed to wake up?
He was just floating in mid-air and couldn’t read his body’s signals. Maybe he had left his body in the dream. Maybe he was experiencing an astral projection. He was really somewhere else. Maybe in his bed, maybe sitting in a hypnotist’s chair somewhere. He’d had out-of-body experiences before. He’d never told anybody about them, but he’d experienced that removed feeling before.
“We’re going to lose him. Zachary. Zachary!”
He tried to rouse himself. The voice was just so damn loud! Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He wanted to fall deeper into the dream. Into the part where he could do things he couldn’t do in his physical body. Fly. Breathe under water. Project himself into another plane of existence.
She Wore Mourning Page 15
