Most Wanted (24 page)

Her breathing grew soft and even, and every muscle in her surrendered, and she drifted into an exhausted slumber before she could even begin to worry.

About what tomorrow morning would bring.

 

Chapter Twenty-three

Christine sat with Lauren in the cramped white booth, waiting for Zachary. The room was stifling, but she had already thrown up, as well as having showered and changed into the pink shirtdress that she had worn to her first appointment with Dr. Davidow. She'd packed it because it was one of her nicer casual dresses, which meant it didn't have any pen marks or stiff patches of glue from school. Somehow, it seemed fitting for today, when she would learn if Zachary Jeffcoat was Donor 3319.

“Do you know how you're going to ask him? How you are going to bring it up?” Lauren asked, her brow knit. She was already sweating from the heat inside the booth, which made her worry lines glisten. She'd showered, but had to put on the same clothes as yesterday, because she hadn't had time to pack herself, having packed three boys, their sports gear, two dogs, and the dog's Prozac, for their weekend of travel baseball.

“I think I'm going to try to engage him, like I would any one of my students.”

“Really? How so?”

“You know my theory, I let them read anything they want to, just so they read. I try not to judge. I build up their self-esteem and create a safe and nurturing environment, so we can build a rapport and they can learn.” Christine had been thinking about that last night. “So I'm going to do the same thing with him. Get him talking about something he really loves, and he'll feel good about himself. Then I'm going to look for a way to bring up the subject.”

“Sounds good.” Lauren smiled, in an encouraging way. “Do you want to rehearse it?”

“No, thanks.” Christine knew that rehearsing would bring her jitters to the fore, not only the nervousness she had about asking him but from the fact that this was the last time she would see him. It wasn't that she wanted to see him again, but she didn't like the idea that she would never see him again, and her emotions hung somewhere in the middle, in a netherworld between attraction and repulsion. She'd tossed and turned last night, trying to visualize how this final meeting would go. And she couldn't help but think that he could be innocent, especially after she'd learned from Linda Kent that he wasn't Gail Robinbrecht's only hookup.

“You're stressing, I can tell.” Lauren's lower lip puckered. “Why don't you just come clean? Tell him the truth. Tell him that the reporter thing was a lie to meet him and find out if he was your donor.”

“No, I don't feel comfortable with that.”

“Why? It will be easier than trying to get him to say it. So what if he knows you lied? You're never going to see him again.”

Christine didn't like the sound,
never going to see him again
. “But the fact that we used a donor is still a secret. You and my parents are the only ones who know. My
in-laws
don't even know. I hate the idea of the exposure.”

“Oh, right.”

“Marcus doesn't even know that I told my parents. He wanted to wait to tell the rest of the family, maybe until after the baby's born. You're the only one who's allowed to know.”

“I'm so special.” Lauren smiled.

“Exactly.” Christine knew Lauren was trying to lighten the mood. “It feels weird to me that he should know before my in-laws do. I want as few people to know as possible.”

“I get it,” Lauren said, nodding. “Strictly need-to-know, like the CIA. But don't you get tired of the family secrets? We have them, too. My aunt knows things my mother doesn't know, my mother knows things that my sister doesn't know. It's hard to keep it all straight.”

“Sometimes it's necessary.” Christine spotted Zachary's blond head bobbing behind the guard in the secured part of the hallway and she straightened up in the hard chair. “He's here.”

“Remain calm. You can do it.”

“Fingers crossed.” Christine caught Zachary's eye, and he smiled. He looked genuinely happy to see her, and she didn't think it was her imagination.

“I see him,” Lauren said, and they both watched as the guard unlocked Zachary's handcuffs and showed him into the secured side of the booth, where he sat down, with a new smile.

“Good morning, Christine. Hi, Lauren. You two look nice.”

“Thank you.” Christine placed her legal pad and golf pencil on the counter, as if reestablishing her journalistic bona fides. “I have great news for you. We found you a really good lawyer.”

“That's great!” Zachary's eyes widened, his relief plain, and he beamed. “How did you do that so fast?”

“We got busy. He's from West Chester, and he's a very experienced criminal lawyer. His name is Francis Griffith but he goes by Griff. He knows about your case and he really wants to take you on. He gave me a business card, but they wouldn't let me bring it in. So I'm going to have to tell him to contact you, is that okay?”

“Sure, that's great. You sound like you know him.”

“No, but we met with him and really liked him. We talked about your case—”

“You told him I was innocent, right?” Zachary interrupted, newly urgent. “I don't want one of those lawyers who thinks it's fine to represent somebody guilty. I'm
not
guilty.”

Christine thought again of what Linda Kent had said and took a quick detour. “Zachary, can I just ask you, how well did you really know Gail Robinbrecht?”

“Honestly, I told you, I didn't know her at all.”

“The first day you met her was the night before she was murdered?” Christine knew she was treading into forbidden territory, after the warning by Griff, but she couldn't help herself.

“Yes.”

“Did you exchange emails with her or texts before you met her?”

“No, I met her in the cafeteria, chatted her up, and she said she was free that night, so we made a date. I didn't even have her phone number.”

“How did you know where she lived?” Christine could feel Lauren trying to catch her eye, warning her off the questions.

“She told me the address.”

“You don't know if she had a boyfriend or was seeing anybody else?”

“I have no idea. I know she wasn't married, that's all. Why?”

“Just curious,” Christine answered, avoiding Lauren's disapproving eye. “Now, anyway, to get back to the lawyer, I told him what you told us and he completely understood. I'll have him visit, or contact you; he probably knows how to do that.”

“He probably does. I don't. I know I can get email, but they didn't give me my email address yet. They're saving all the email. They screen it before it goes to me.”

“Oh, even the lawyer's? He said that would be privileged.”

“I don't know. They told me most of the email is from media people and women who write the Death Row inmates here, whatever.” Zachary rolled his eyes, like a goofy teenager.

“The other thing Griff said is that he needs a retainer of $5,000.”

“Oh no.” Zachary grimaced.

“I hope that's not a problem. I told him that you would pay him.”

“But five grand? I didn't think it would be that much. I don't know how I'm going to get the money. I have, like, $2,300 saved. I'd have more than that, but I'm paying off my student loan debt. Could you find someone cheaper?”

“Not that I know of, it's the weekend. He said it's low and I believe him.”

“Will he take less?” Zachary's eyebrows lifted, with hope. “He should be able to get money later, like those lawyers on TV. They say they only get paid if you get paid.”

“That's not the same kind of case, that's a civil case,” Christine answered, touched by his naïveté.

“Can you lend me the money? I would put in my $2,300, and maybe you could put in the rest?”

“I don't know.” Christine fumbled, off-balance.

“I would pay you back. When you finish the book and sell it, then you could just take it out of whatever you're going to give me. You were going to give something, weren't you, like a consultant?”

“I have to think about it.”

Zachary turned to Lauren. “Could you put in some? I'll pay you back out of the book sales, I swear to you. Right now, there's nothing I can do, there's no way I can make money to pay for my defense.”

“I don't think so, Zachary.” Lauren shifted in the chair, and Christine felt guilty for having gotten her into this spot.

“Zachary, Lauren is only helping me as an assistant, she's not even getting paid. If it's going to come from anybody, it should come from me.”

“So can you?”

“As I said, I have to think about it. I'll go home and think about it.”

“Then you'll let me know?”

“Yes, I'll let you know.” Christine had to move on. “Let's table the money discussion for now because there's one more important thing I have to tell you, and it came directly from Griff. He said that this should be our last meeting. He doesn't want you to be discussing your case with anybody except him.”

“Why?” Zachary asked, his eyebrows sloping down unhappily.

“He said that all these conversations are admissible and so are my notes.” Christine gestured at her pad, for effect. She'd practiced this part of the conversation in her mind.

“We're not supposed to meet anymore?” Zachary's lips parted in disappointment.

“No, this is it.” Christine knew he was disappointed but couldn't let it show.

“What about your book?”

“He said it will have to wait, and I understand that, I really want what's best for you.” Christine wasn't lying about that part.

“But I
like
talking to you. I like you.” Zachary turned to Lauren and back to Christine. “I like you, too. It's nice to have somebody to talk to, somebody normal.”

“I like talking to you, too.” Christine kept her emotions in check. She had a purpose for being here, she was on a mission. “It was so interesting yesterday, to get to know you better, to hear your life story. But I couldn't live with myself if your defense was compromised because I want to write about you. That wouldn't be right. I couldn't sleep at night.”

“I appreciate that,” Zachary said, blinking. “That's unselfish of you.”

“Thanks.” Christine kept her expression impassive, though she felt a twinge of guilt. “He also said you shouldn't meet with anybody else, no one from the press, none of the other reporters or book people.”

“Even the movie people?” Zachary frowned. “They were from Los Angeles. They said they're coming back.”

“Not even them.”

“But one of them knows somebody who knows J. J. Abrams. They know really famous people.”

“I understand, but Griff would say no.”

“They would
totally
have the money for a lawyer. They wanted to option my story for a movie. They said they would get me an agent and everything.”

“Ask Griff when you see him.” Christine hesitated. “Anyway, Griff said I could meet with you this one last time, and I was allowed to talk to you only about your background, but not about the case. That's all I was really interested in anyway, I really wanted this to be more about you.”

“That's cool.” Zachary brightened.

“We better get started.” Christine picked up her golf pencil. “First, let me say that we were both very moved by your story about your sister. We don't have to go over that again, because I don't want you to have to relive that.”

“Okay. I appreciate that.”

“We were both amazed that, given the circumstances, you managed to get yourself to college, graduating with honors.”

“Don't forget it was
magna cum laude
.”

Lauren interjected, “I graduated
magna cum laude
, but my father always said it was
magna cum
loudly.”

They all laughed, and Christine could see that Zachary eased back in his chair on the other side of the Plexiglas.

“Now, Zachary, you said you always wanted to go to medical school. Why?” Christine held her golf pencil poised over her pad, ready to take fake-notes.

“I want to help people, to help society. I thought it would be rewarding, to cure something.”

“So I guess we could say that you're unselfish, too.”

“Right.” Zachary's bright blue eyes met Christine's with warmth, and again, she couldn't deny the connection she felt with him, wanted or no.

“What was your favorite subject in school?”

“Hmm,” Zachary smiled, tilting his head in thought. “You know, I would have loved gross anatomy. My girlfriend took it first year, and I used to help her study. There's a lot of memorization, and I used to quiz her. She even took me to lab with her once though she wasn't supposed to.”

“Lab?” Christine didn't understand the turn that the conversation was taking.

“Anatomy lab. I loved it, even though it's the hardest because you spend so much time in lab, dissecting and learning the structures you dissect. My girlfriend showed me how they started on the cadaver's back, then flipped the body over, then you can see the face. That makes the experience seem even more real.” Zachary paused, but his expression didn't change, almost pleasant. “She told me they dissected the thorax, upper extremities, lower extremities, then the abdomen, then sawed off the leg—”

Lauren blurted out, “She
sawed off
a leg?”

Christine felt troubled by his lack of emotionality but didn't let her judgment show since Zachary was lowering his guard.

“You have to, to dissect the pelvis, then the face, which had a bunch of tiny sets of dissections. Eyes, nasal cavity, ear canal, and a bunch of nerve structures run through the face, especially the facial nerve and all its branches.” Zachary paused, reflecting. “She told me it took forever. Then she sawed off the skull with a bone saw and removed the brain. She used the brains and brainstems in neuroanatomy in the spring semester.”