Isabella’s personal account, however, was another story. She tended to post Madonna-like woman and child pictures and memes about grief and loss. Zachary saw that Spencer had posted a number of these somber posts onto Isabella’s timeline. No jokes and cute kittens for the couple. They were obviously still deep in the grieving process.
The phone rang, and Zachary picked it up without looking at the caller ID.
“Goldman Investigations.”
“Mr. Goldman, this is Eugene Taft’s assistant? We talked before? I told you I would call you?”
“Yes,” Zachary agreed.
“If you would like to come down to the police station, you will be given access to the Bond accident investigation file. You won’t be able to make any copies or take anything with you, but you can make notes for your case.”
“Great. Will that be available today, or do I need to wait for it to be pulled from storage somewhere?”
“We’ve already pulled it for you. You can come down anytime.”
“Perfect. I’ll be down to see it soon.”
“You’ll need to sign a confidentiality agreement. The information on the files is only to be used in your own investigation, to verify the results of the accident investigation to the family. You are not, under any circumstances, to speak to the media or release any information to them. The police force always has to be sure to keep the details of a death out of the public eye, so that they can be sure of who has legitimate information and who might just be repeating information the police already have and trying to pass themselves off as knowing them first-hand.”
Zachary turned this over in his mind. He took a sip of his cold, bitter coffee. “Does that mean the police force had doubts in this case? That there were details held back from the public that would only be known to someone who was there on the scene when it happened?”
“I don’t know anything about the specifics of this case. I am speaking in general terms.”
“You don’t know if they had any suspicions about a third party being involved.”
“No, I don’t know anything about it,” she repeated.
Zachary hung up the phone, still wondering whether she was telling the truth or trying to give him a heads-up.
Spencer looked surprised when he answered the door and found Zachary on his doorstep once again. He stood there looking at Zachary.
“I didn’t know you were coming by again, Mr. Goldman.”
“Zachary.”
“Zachary. Did you find something out? Something of significance?”
Zachary thought back to poring over the police records. All the handwritten notes, pictures, and bits of scribbles. He wished that he could put his finger on one piece of evidence and say, ‘here it is, this is what the police missed.’ But so far, he was just seeing the same routine information pointing to an accident. No evidence of foul play. No one who wanted to hurt either Isabella or Spencer by hurting their child. There were lists of the registered sex offenders in the area with notations or brief interviews beside each name. Alibis. No one had seen any of them around the Bond home or near Declan. None of them had done any work there.
“No, I haven’t found anything out. I just wanted to speak with you and Isabella again, now that I have a bit more information. Just a few additional questions.”
Spencer didn’t answer immediately, then gave a sigh and stepped back to allow Zachary in. They went back to Spencer’s office as before and took their seats.
“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Spencer warned. “I wasn’t the one supervising Declan when he disappeared. I don’t know anything except that he was in our yard, and then he drowned in the pond.”
“I understand. How has Isabella been doing?”
Spencer shook his head. “You were here. You saw her.”
“I did, but I don’t think I’m getting the full picture. I think there is a lot more going on than I can see. Than anyone who doesn’t live here would see.”
“Of course… that’s true of anyone.”
“I talked to Isabella’s producer and some of her coworkers.”
“Yes…?”
“Were you aware that she can’t or won’t paint the color blue?”
“No. I don’t have anything to do with her painting. Why, what does that have to do with anything?”
Zachary found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t know even that little bit of information about his wife’s painting. Wouldn’t it have come up in conversation? “Does the color blue have any significance for Isabella that you are aware of?”
“Blue.” Spencer looked at him blankly. “No. Why?”
“I’m just wondering if it has something to do with the case. Maybe she associates it with something. It could be a clue to what happened to Declan.”
“No. Compulsions don’t really work that way. They aren’t logical or symbolic.”
“Sometimes they can be traced back to a particular trigger,” Zachary pointed out.
Spencer cocked his head, and his eyes narrowed at Zachary. “What would you know about that?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes… but not always; and as far as Isabella not being able to paint the color blue… no, I don’t think it has any significance at all. It’s just one of those bizarre things.”
“What is it that concerns you the most about Isabella right now? Is there anything that worries you?”
“The praying gets on my nerves more than anything. I’ve gotten used to her… messiness… the way that she collects things… but that same prayer over and over again, it grates on my nerves.”
Zachary nodded. “I can see how it would. She’s doing it a lot, then?”
“Compulsions are something that you can suppress for a little while by exercising self-control. I can sit here and not clean my hands again, probably for the whole time you are here. Or if I have to go to an outside meeting; but eventually, the urge becomes overwhelming, and I have
