She Wore Mourning by P.D. Workman (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

“What other cases have you been working on? Tell me something interesting about another case. One that doesn’t involve a death.”

Zachary considered, and told her about the other case that was top of mind. There had been some press coverage, even though the school had tried to keep it quiet. They had tried to distance themselves from the charges against Principal Montgomery, which wasn’t possible, when she was dating one of her students.

“I heard about that! That was one of your cases? How did you end up investigating child sex crimes?”

“It didn’t start out that way. Just surveillance on a party to see what she was up to. Like dozens of others I’ve done. This is the first time I’ve turned up a teacher-student relationship.”

“The principal’s husband hired you?”

“I can’t say who hired me. I’m not at liberty to say.”

“But that’s who it was.”

Zachary shrugged and didn’t say one way or another.

“Wow. I’m really impressed. That was a really big bust.”

“It was unexpected, but once I knew what was going on, I had to protect the minor.”

“You did the right thing. Boy, did you ever. That’s amazing.”

Zachary was finally able to smile at Kenzie, and she smiled back.

Chapter Eleven

It was the day before Christmas, and Zachary knew he was supposed to have the final report ready for Molly. But maybe it was bad timing. She wouldn’t want to get that news right before Christmas. He still hadn’t managed to work out the language to his satisfaction. He wanted to be able to clearly state that Declan had been given cough medicine, but that nothing had been overlooked in the police investigation. He couldn’t say both of those things. Not when the cough medicine seemed so significant to him.

But more than the writing of the final report, the season weighed heavily on him. The last few years he had gotten through Christmas only because of Bridget. His hope for a new life with her. With that whole life shattered, he didn’t know how he was going to struggle through one more. It was a crushing weight.

He ignored the calls. He could see by the caller ID that the caller was Molly, and he knew what she was looking for. She wanted his report. She wanted to put the case to bed once and for all and to have a Christmas without guilt for Declan’s death hanging over their heads.

As the evening drew on, there was one call from Mr. Peterson, one of Zachary’s former foster fathers. The only one that he had kept in touch with over the years. Mr. Peterson had given him his first camera and had been the only one to encourage Zachary in his photography. Mr. Peterson left a stilted voicemail, his tone concerned.

“Zach… just calling to see how you are. To… wish you a Merry Christmas and make sure you’re okay. Okay? Call me back and let me know you’re all right… Okay? Pat says ‘hi’… Talk to you soon.”

There were no other calls. No friends, no family, no special person in his life. When people had asked him what he was doing for Christmas, he’d brushed them off, saying he had plans but remaining vague about what they were. He didn’t want pity invitations. He didn’t need people trying to fit him in at their Christmas tables just because of how miserable he was.

He found himself in the bathroom, with the medicine cabinet hanging open. Spencer would have been horrified by the mess. Zachary started pulling medications from the shelf. A cough medicine with codeine. Painkillers. Sleeping pills, some of them over-the-counter and some of them prescription. Pills for anxiety. For ADHD. Risperdal. Cold tablets in various daytime and nighttime formulations.

Overdoses were a risky business. Not as certain as a gun or slashed wrists. Not that those were guaranteed either. But with pills, a person might throw them up again. Or wake up three days later with a headache. Or do permanent liver or kidney damage without that last, final sleep they were seeking.

The phone was ringing again. Zachary wearily dragged himself out of the bathroom to the bedroom, where his phone sat on the bedside table, vibrating noisily. He looked down at the screen.

Molly.

Again.

The least he could do was tell her he wasn’t going to be able to get the final report to her until after Christmas. Sometimes, things just didn’t work out as planned.

He picked up the phone and answered the call.

When he reached the hospital, Zachary looked around the emergency room for Molly. He saw Spencer first, pacing back and forth near the windows. He probably couldn’t sit down for fear of catching a hospital infection.

Molly was sitting in one of the uncomfortable, slippery plastic chairs, her elbows on her knees and hands over her face. Zachary sat beside her.

“Molly?” He put his hand lightly on her back. While he wasn’t one for touching strangers, she needed some comfort, and it was all he could manage.

Molly raised her face to look at him, and then put it back down in her hands again.

“I called you and called you,” she said in a flat, stony voice. “I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It hasn’t been a good day for me.”

It was a stupid thing to say. Once the words were out of his mouth and he heard them, he knew. He was having a bad day? Isabella had just attempted suicide and Molly didn’t know if her daughter was going to make it.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that. At least, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your earlier calls.”

“I know.” She sniffled. “It’s not like any of this is your responsibility. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

“You hired me in the first place because you wanted to avoid this. I’m sorry. I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me. It was going to happen with or without you. I knew it was.