Most Wanted (40 page)

“Did you say that to the police?”

“No, I was, like, in shock, I was so freaked. I didn't realize they would arrest me. I mean, I didn't do it.” Zachary leaned over, his battered face a mask of anxiety. “Please, I didn't. You have to know that.”

“I believe you,” Christine found herself saying. She thought that if Zachary was telling the truth, then he was terribly unlucky, being wrongly accused not only at the scene but in the prison yard. “Let's go back to the saw, as you call it. What type of instrument is it?”

“It's a metacarpal bone saw, for hand surgery or other small bones.”

“So hand surgeons would have that?”

“Yes, all hospitals would in their ORs and ERs. It's for general surgery of the hand and other small bones.”

“Are hand surgeons your customers?”

“My accounts? Yes, but I don't call on hand surgeons on their own. They're in hospitals or affiliated with hospitals. I sell to the purchasing people at hospitals, not the docs.”

Christine had more questions about the saw and the customers he sold it to, but she wanted to get to why he'd lied to her about Gail. “Okay, sorry I interrupted. Then what happened, after you pulled the knife, or the saw, out?”

“I called 911, I told them what I saw, what I found.” Zachary frowned, his scrapes buckling. “I don't know what I said, you can get the tape. Then the cops came.”

Christine decided it was time to go for it, because she had to know. “Let me ask you, when was the first time you met Gail?”

“I told you. Sunday, in the hospital.”

“Why were you there on a Sunday?” Christine tried to listen critically.

“It was the only time I could catch Dr. Malan-Kopelman. He's a top doc in thoracic surgery and he's wall-to-wall during the week. He's impossible to catch, so I went in. He does rounds starting at 6:00
A.M.
that day.”

Christine felt confused. “But when we were talking about hand surgeons, you just said you don't sell to docs.”

Zachary blinked. “I do, when the docs have clout with purchasing. I don't know any hand surgeons who have that kind of clout. Malan-Kopelman is major.”

Christine thought it made sense. “Okay, back to Gail. Do you know why she was there on a Sunday morning?”

“Nurses work every day. We were both in early. Her shift started at seven, and she was getting coffee. I was getting coffee because I was finished selling Malan-Kopelman. I got the order, by the way.” Zachary half-smiled, but Gail couldn't be distracted.

“And your first date with Gail was that same night?”

“Yes, I told you.”

“And you went to her apartment?”

“Yes?”

“And you slept together?”

“Yes.” Zachary frowned, crumpling his bruises. “But why are you asking me all these questions? I told you all this.”

Christine searched his face to see if his expression had changed, but it hadn't, and she couldn't tell if he was lying or not. “Zachary, what would you say if I told you that one of Gail's neighbors saw you at her apartment on Thursday night?”

“What? Who?” Zachary's lips parted in outrage, and his blue eyes flashed like cold steel. “Are you trying to trap me? Whose side are you on? I thought you were working for me, not against me.”

Christine recoiled, surprised. “I am on your side, I'm asking you—”

“You're not asking me anything!” Zachary raised his voice. “You're accusing me. You're calling me a liar!”

“No, I'm not. I'm asking you—”

“You're trying to trick me, catch me!”

“Zachary, calm down. I'm on your side—”

“The hell you are! You don't know what it's like in here! I could have been killed! I can't sleep, they scream all night! I feel like I'm going to explode! You have to get me out of here!”

The CO standing guard on the secured side swiveled his head to them. “Jeffcoat, no shouting!” he boomed through the window in the door.

Christine sat back in her chair, trying to regain her composure. His outburst rattled her because it was so sudden.

“I'm sorry,” Zachary said, seeming to recover. He exhaled loudly, pushing his blond bangs from his cut. “I'm at the end of my rope. I'm losing it. I didn't mean to snap. I have to get out of here. I don't know what to do.”

“It's okay,” Christine said, though it was anything but.

“You don't believe me? Is that why you asked? Why don't you believe me?”

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Christine said, because it was exactly how she felt.

“I told you the truth,” Zachary shot back, but Christine could see him avert his eyes for a moment.

“If you're lying, come clean with me now. We can't help you if we don't know the facts. Is the neighbor right, that she saw you?” Christine kept her tone soft. If she had learned anything as a reading teacher, it was to create an atmosphere that was safe enough to make, or confess, any mistake. “Tell me the truth, Zachary.”

“Okay.” Zachary swallowed hard, pursing his lips. “I did see Gail Thursday night, but that was the first time, ever.”

“How did that come about?”

“The exact same way I told you. I met Gail in the cafeteria on Thursday, that was the first day I met her. Same time, all else the same. I was trying to get Dr. Malan-Kopelman in the morning, but I missed him in surgery. I didn't get the order until Sunday, I kept at it.” Zachary rubbed his face, wincing. “I saw Gail again on Sunday, but Sunday wasn't the first day we hooked up. Thursday night was.”

“Why did you lie?” Christine kept the judgment from her tone.

“Because of Hannah, my girlfriend. I didn't want her to know that I cheated on her twice.”

“What difference does that make? Cheating once is bad enough, isn't it?”

“Once could be, like, a slip-up, a mistake. But twice, I don't know, I knew she'd think it was worse. Not that it matters now.” Zachary paused, his shoulders letting down. “I knew we were in trouble when she went to med school and I didn't. She got distant. At first I thought it was that our schedules were different, she was working all the time or in the lab, but it wasn't that.”

“What was it?” Christine didn't know if he was deflecting or being honest.

“A medical sales rep isn't the same thing as a doctor, not to women. Especially not to women doctors, like Hannah. I felt like I got demoted in her eyes, and she looked for the upgrade.” Zachary slumped. “Hannah's gone, so maybe I got what I deserved.”

“I don't think that,” Christine said, wanting to build on their rapport. “But I'm surprised that given the break-up, she would lend you the money for your retainer. She dropped it off last night, a cashier's check.”

“I'm not surprised.” Zachary managed a smile. “She really cares about me, or she feels guilty because she dumped me. I'll pay her back, and she knows that, if I get out of here. I loved Hannah, and if I could've had her back, the way she used to feel about me, I would've been totally happy.”

“How can I reach her? I'd like to speak with her.”

“Why?” Zachary frowned.

“She was your girlfriend. Who knows you better than your girlfriend?”

“I don't see the point.” Zachary frowned again. “She's done enough for me, lending me the money.”

“I'll know the point after I speak with her. I'm trying to turn over every stone for your case. She might have facts to help your defense.”

“Christine, if you want to help my defense, talk to my boss. His name is Tim Foster and he's right in town. The Brigham offices are right outside of West Chester on Cardinal Street.”

“Okay, I'll see him first then.” Christine made a mental note to squeeze him in before she went to Zachary's apartment. “But how do I reach Hannah? I'd still like to speak with her.”

“No, don't, please.”

“I have to.” Christine thought a moment. “You were dating her during the time of the other murders, weren't you?”

“You mean the other two nurses?”

“Yes.” Christine felt bothered he didn't say their names, which she remembered. “Did you know them?”

“No, not at all. Bethesda General and Newport News are my accounts, but I didn't know those nurses. I never met them.”

Christine couldn't tell if he was lying, but his plaintive expression looked so genuine, especially with the bruises. “Did you hook up with nurses at Bethesda General and Newport News Memorial?”

“I don't know, I'd have to think about it, but not those nurses.” Zachary spread his hands, palms up. “Look, I'm not perfect. I'm a single guy, I hooked up on the road, when I was with Hannah. She was the one who turned away from me. I was just hanging on because I wanted to be with her. Sometimes you don't get what you need from someone you love. That's the truth.”

Christine felt the words resonate but tried not to let it show. She knew exactly how Zachary felt, now that Marcus was turning away from her.

“I'm not proud of it, but I'm not going to apologize for it, either. But I didn't kill Gail or anybody else. I'm not a serial killer. I love nurses, I would never
kill
nurses.”

“McLeane was killed in January and Allen-Bogen in April.” Christine didn't have the exact dates since she didn't get to finish her bulletin board. “You were with Hannah during that time, and at some point, I'll have to talk with her about where you were those nights and establish an alibi.”

“But she might not meet with you. Her parents want her to distance herself from me, and she'll be hard to get ahold of. Med school is super busy. You'll have to catch her between classes.”

“Where does she go to school?”

“Temple. It's all the way in town. Philly.”

“I'll drive in.” Christine got her golf pencil and notepad from her pocket. “What's her number and email?”

“But please, don't push it if she doesn't want to meet you.” Zachary rattled off a number and email address, then glanced behind him as the guard approached, signaling the end of their visit. “Christine, just know, I didn't kill anybody. I would never kill anybody. I'm completely innocent, and I need you to believe in me and get me out of here. It's worse than before, in ad seg.”

“I understand,” Christine said, believing him, in the end.

“Christine, please, help me. I'm counting on you.”

 

Chapter Forty-three

Brigham Instruments was housed in a boxy new building of red brick, shaped like an L, and Christine stepped inside, glancing around the reception room. It was modern, with cheery blue wainscoting and an off-white wall covered with framed covers from the Brigham Hospital Catalog, General Surgery Edition, next to framed Better Business Bureau certificates and laminated newspaper articles. Two blue padded chairs flanked an end table that held an artificial plant, and to the right, Christine passed an open French door that read
SALES/SERVICE
over the top. She walked to the reception desk.

“May I help you?” an older receptionist asked, sitting at a panel counter about shoulder height. Her hooded eyes were gray-blue, almost the same shade as her straight gray hair, which she wore closely cropped with dangling silver earrings.

“I'm Christine Nilsson, the one who called about a meeting with Tim Foster.”

“Of course, I was so happy when your call came in.” The receptionist's expression changed, falling into concerned lines. “Please do everything you can to help Zachary. I
know
they have the wrong man.”

“You do?” Christine's ears perked up.

“Absolutely, we all do, all the girls in billing and the ones in back, in the warehouse.” The receptionist gestured behind her. “We think it's terrible that they arrested him. He didn't do it, we just know it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know that boy. I tell him, ‘you're the grandson I never had.'”

Christine smiled, warmed. “How long have you known him?”

“Two years, since he started here. He's so handsome and so sweet, he does the nicest things for everybody here. We all love him. And he's so good-looking!” The receptionist's aged eyes flared. “My granddaughter calls him
dreamy
. The girls in back have a crush on him, and I don't blame them. It's not just that he's handsome. He's a good person, inside.”

“What makes you say that?” Christine realized it was the first time she'd heard something nice about Zachary, and her heart lifted.

“He's so thoughtful. He remembers things about us. He knows I have a Chihuahua, Rico, and he always brings a box of dog treats for him, special for small dogs. And when he pays a call on his accounts in Delaware, he always brings Millie in the warehouse a box of salt water taffy. Oh, we all just
love
him.” The receptionist's eyes narrowed. “He's not like some of the account managers, who are only nice to the bosses. He's nice to everybody, no matter whether they're a big shot or not. In fact, just last week, he visited one of the other girls in the hospital when she broke her arm. He knows she likes mysteries, so he brought them.”

Christine made a mental note to talk to Griff about whether they could call these women as witnesses to Zachary's character at trial. “Does he have any friends here, like other account managers?”

“He was friendly with Tim, most of all, so he's probably the one you should talk to.” The receptionist shifted her gaze to the open French door. “Oh, here he is. Tim?”

Christine looked up as a heavyset African-American man appeared in the sales/service door, motioning to her. He had a broad grin and large dark eyes set far apart behind gold-rimmed glasses. He crossed the room to shake her hand, dressed in a Brigham-blue polo shirt and neatly pressed khaki pants, with the perfect break over his shiny loafers.