Evan. Zorn.
I told myself I had to put it behind me now. What could I do? What did Charlie even want me to do? Evan had climbed up there in the dark. He had gone off his meds. Anything could have happened. A couple of days before, he’d been in a raging, almost homicidal state. He tried to buy a gun.
What the hell else for?
This retired detective, whoever he was, he was a completely different person. Who happened to intersect with Evan. His death probably had nothing to do with him.
Maybe I’ll become a cop. They want me to take the test…
C’mon, Jay. I focused back on the road. He was talking to the fucking furnace when he said that!
I thought of what was on my plate back home. What I had committed to in the morning. Stacey.
Here, there was only grief. And questions that would never have answers. That no one wanted answers to.
The kid was dead, Sherwood said. Next time he would have taken his parents with him. What did it even matter?
It damn well did matter.
Zorn and Evan. Something connected them. And I was the only one who saw it.
I brought to mind Evan’s face at the mortuary. Gabby’s tears. Then Charlie-the day his son was born. Promise me, Jay, that whatever happens, you’ll be there for him. Promise me, you’ll take care of him, Jay.
Promise me.
You have my word, Charlie.
I felt this sense building inside me that I was about to do something completely crazy.
I made it as far as the next exit and turned the car around.
Two minutes later I was back at the exit where I’d just gotten on and wound down the hill to Charlie’s apartment. I left the car under the carport and ran across the courtyard. It was barely seven thirty A.M. They normally didn’t get out of bed until around eleven. I banged on the front door.
“Charlie! Gabby, let me in!”
“All right, all right…” I finally heard my brother’s voice. “Who’s there?”
He opened the door, standing in a T-shirt and boxers, his hair loose and wild. He looked at me, befuddled. “Thought you were heading home, Jay.”
“Do you know the name Walter Zorn?” I asked him.
He shook his head, scratching at his beard. “Should I? No.”
“He was a retired detective. From down in Santa Barbara. He was killed last night. Here.”
He blinked back at me. “What does he have to do with us?”
I thought I saw something in his eyes. Maybe there was something in my question, some new conviction jolting him out of his ruined life, the ever-present grief he hid in.
But I just looked back at him, like a man who had finally accepted his vow. “Something just changed.”
PART II
Chapter Nineteen
M y first call was to my office.
To Lev Avital, one of the other surgeons in the practice, who’d been part of our group for the past eight years. I caught him at his desk during a consult. “Jay, what’s up? How is it out there?”
“Avi, I need a huge favor,” I said. “Can you handle an iliac stent for me in the morning tomorrow? The patient’s the daughter of a friend of mine from our club. I’d planned to be back, but I really need another day or two out here. I promise, it’s a layup, Avi.”
“Let me check.” He took a look through his schedule and came back to say he was free. He only had a couple of consults to juggle around. “You know we were all so sad to hear about your nephew, Jay.”
“Thanks. I owe you big-time, guy,” I said in relief. “I hope to be back next week.”
“I’ll remind you about this at Thanksgiving. I’m on call this year.”
I gave him some background on the case and how it was all pretty much totally routine. Just inserting a stent through the femoral artery and bypassing the aneurysm. Avi was an ex-Israeli tank commander. He’d seen action in Lebanon. He’d studied at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and at Harvard, and could probably do an iliac bypass in his sleep. Probably even better than I could.
“You’ll be out by lunch,” I promised. I said I’d have my secretary e-mail over the MRIs with Stacey’s file. “Call me if you need to discuss. And, Avi…”
“Don’t even mention it,” he said. “I’m hoping things go well for you and your family out there.”
“No-I meant, call me as soon as you’re done and let me know how it went,” I said. “But thanks. Thanks a bunch.”
I told him I’d alert the family to the change.
My next call was to Kathy.
My stomach clenched a bit at the thought of having to explain this to her. It was eight fifteen in California. Eleven fifteen back home. I dialed her on her cell and she picked up, from one of the examining rooms.
“Hey,” she answered brightly, “I’m in with a very unhappy Lab named Sadie who’s got a big blister on her paw. I got your message last night. You at the airport yet?”
“Don’t be mad,” I said, sucking in a breath. “I can’t make it back today.”
“You can’t…? ” Her voice sank with disappointment. Maybe an edge of exasperation too.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but something’s come up. I just need another day or two, that’s all, to see something through. You trust me, don’t you?”
“See something through? I thought you had a procedure Friday, Jay. On Marv and Susie Gold’s daughter.”
“I just got Avi to cover it.”
“Avi? And we had the Hochmans coming tomorrow night. All right
…” She sighed frostily, not even attempting to conceal her frustration. “Jay, I know better than anyone how much you want to do something for them, but-”
“Don’t even go there, Kath. It’s not even about Charlie and Gabby, or what you might think. I just have to see something through. Related to Evan. I’ll explain it all later. I promise.”
There was a pause, one of those moments when it’s pretty obvious no one wants to say what they’re really thinking.
“Look, I have to get back to my patient,” she said, exhaling. “She’s very impatient. She’s starting to growl at me. We can discuss this later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Then, almost as a good-bye: “And of course I trust you, Jay.”
Chapter Twenty
T he county coroner’s office was located twenty minutes away near the sheriff’s department in San Luis Obispo. It was on a remote road a few minutes out of town, tucked dramatically at the base of one of those high, protruding mesas, not exactly your standard police setting.
A sign on the outside walkway read DETECTIVES UNIT.
It was strange, but I felt there was only one person I could trust.
I went up to the front desk. A pleasant-looking woman seated behind a computer asked if she could help me. I said, “Detective Sherwood, please.”
He was out of the office. The woman glanced at the clock on the wall and said it might be a couple of hours.
