Christine knew as much. She got her yearly blood test, and her local Labcorp used the same tourniquet. “And the tourniquets are used by hand surgeons, but not only by hand surgeons?”
“Exactly.”
“Can laypeople buy these things?”
“No. We sell only to hospitals, hospital supply companies, and medical professionals.” Tim frowned. “I see our metacarpal saws on eBay sometimes, but that’s resellers.”
“May I take these things and some catalogs, to read through them later?”
“Sure.” Tim packed the saw, tourniquets, and some catalogs in the black nylon bag and flopped over the top flap.
“Did the police talk to you about Zachary?”
“Yes, they talked to my boss, too. I told them what I told you. Zachary’s not a serial killer.”
“Did they ask for his personnel file?”
“Yes, and we gave them a copy. Legal said we had to.” Tim frowned. “It won’t hurt him any, and we complied. The fact that whoever killed those nurses used our instruments isn’t helping, public relations–wise. We got tons of calls from the media the first week. We even hired a PR firm. The Brigham family isn’t happy. The sooner this is over with, the better.”
“Did Zachary have any enemies that you know of?”
“No, not at all.” Tim cocked his head. “Uh, one of the other account managers wasn’t a fan. But that’s between us.”
“I’ll keep it confidential. What is his name?”
“Dan Pepitone.”
“Is Dan here today?”
“No, he’s calling on accounts. The managers are always on the road, remember? They never come in.”
“Right.” Christine made a mental note to follow up and meet Pepitone. “Why didn’t Dan like Zachary?”
“Zachary came into Dan’s region. I needed to bring somebody new. All of our regions are large, and there’s hundreds of accounts, we’re spread pretty thin. Dan’s in his late fifties.”
“Are you saying that Zachary was brought in as Dan’s successor?”
“That’s about the size of it.” Tim buckled his lower lip. “Dan is slowing down, he’s just burned-out. It’s not easy being a road warrior. When Zachary came in, the numbers went way up. Zachary made Dan look bad. That’s sales.”
“What do you think makes the difference?”
“Zachary tries harder. He charms everybody. He’s always closing, that boy.” Tim frowned slightly. “But Dan thought Zachary was a BS artist, which I get.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m in sales. I manage salesman. It’s a mentality. Some salesman, they’re made. Others are born.” Tim smiled. “Zachary was a born salesman. He could sell ice to the Eskimos. It’s a cliché, but it’s true about him.”
Christine didn’t know if she wanted her baby to be a born salesman, and if that was a good thing or not. “What makes a born salesman?”
“In my opinion, it’s a knowledge of people. Zachary can clue in on what somebody wants and give it to them. He knows how to work people.”
“That’s manipulative.” Christine couldn’t help but wonder if Zachary was manipulating her, like Gary had warned.
“It is and it isn’t.” Tim shrugged again. “Sales requires you to understand people and to a certain extent, yes, manipulate them. To tell them what they want to hear, so you can close.”
Christine thought it sounded worse and worse. “So is he a liar?”
“No more than I am.” Tim chuckled. “We’re just trying to sell you something. You need it, and we make it, so it works out. There’s no harm, no foul. Zachary’s very good at his job, the best young salesman I’ve seen in a long time. Zachary was a star. Not everybody likes that. Dan thought Zachary was arrogant, but I want my account managers to be arrogant. You know who are the most arrogant people on the face of the earth?”
“No, who?” Christine asked, because he seemed to wait for a reply.
“Surgeons. Surgeons think they’re God. They will cut into the human body without hesitation. They will save a life. They’re brilliant men and women, and they don’t respect dumb. I want my account managers to be arrogant and confident enough to earn the respect of surgeons.”
Christine understood. “Could Zachary?”
“Yes, totally. He could walk into a hospital, collar a surgeon when he’s on his way to the OR, grab whatever three minutes he can, and convince him that we make a better instrument than the next guy. If my guys don’t have that confidence, I’m not gonna be able to feed my family.”
Christine tried to understand. “So Zachary’s arrogant and manipulative, but you like him anyway?”
“No.” Tim smiled. “Zachary’s arrogant and manipulative, and I love him anyway.”
Chapter Forty-four
Christine hurried down the busy sidewalk, crowded with students carrying backpacks, businesspeople scrolling through smartphones, and Temple University employees in red lanyards, hurrying back to their offices after lunch. It had taken her almost an hour to drive into the center of Philadelphia, then another half an hour to fight the traffic going up Broad Street, which was evidently the city’s main artery. Hannah had said she only had twenty minutes between classes, so Christine had driven like a maniac, sensing that Hannah didn’t want to meet with her at all.
The air was impossibly humid, and Christine wiped the sweat from her brow as she passed a bustling campus bookstore, then made a beeline for the cheesesteak place that Hannah had specified. She threaded her way to the restaurant, pushed open the door, and breathed in the delicious smells of sizzling steaks. Her eyes adjusted to the dim, cramped rectangle, mostly a take-out joint with an order counter, open griddles, and cooks on the left, and on the right, two rows of small brown tables.
A young girl sitting in the back waved to Christine, but it didn’t make sense. The young girl was tall and thin, with long dark hair, which didn’t fit the description of Zachary’s girlfriend that Christine had gotten from the CO at the prison, the first day. Christine remembered the CO describing Zachary’s girlfriend as a “redhead” and “a pretty little thing,” and the woman standing up was neither little nor a redhead, though she was adorably pretty. She had a soft, round face, with dimples and a turned-up nose, full lips, and a dazzling smile, with perfect teeth.
“Christine!” the young girl called, impatiently motioning her forward, and Christine walked past the noisy crowd lining up at the counter and headed for the back of the restaurant.
“Hannah? I thought you were a redhead.”
“No, why would you think that?” Hannah sat down, brushing smooth the hem of a summery purple sundress with skinny straps. “Please sit, I don’t have long.”
“The guard at Graterford told me you had red hair.”
“How would they know? I’ve never been to Graterford.”
“But you visited Zachary, didn’t you?” Christine sat down, bewildered.
“No, no way.” Hannah shuddered. “A maximum-security prison? Uh, no thanks.”
Christine didn’t understand. “But the guard said his girlfriend was there.”
“He has no problem getting women. Such a player. Whatever, dude.” Hannah snorted. “Why would I visit him? We broke up. We’re over.”
“Well, I was under the impression that you cared about him as a friend.”
“Where did you get that impression?” Hannah drew back.
“From him. He said so.”
“Ha! He’s so full of himself!” Hannah rolled her eyes, which were a lovely shade of hazel, with only light makeup.
“It’s a reasonable conclusion, given the fact that you’re lending him money for his retainer.” Christine felt unaccountably defensive on Zachary’s behalf.
“What?” Hannah looked at Christine like she was crazy. “I’m not doing that. I’m not lending him any money, ever again.”
“Wait, hold on. Let me get this straight.” Christine felt confounded, beginning to realize why Zachary hadn’t wanted her to mee
t with Hannah. “You didn’t lend him $2,500 toward his retainer, in a cashier’s check? You dropped it off at his lawyer’s office?”
Hannah scoffed. “Are you kidding? No, not at all. My days of paying his bills are so over.”
Christine couldn’t get her bearings. Zachary had lied to her, but she didn’t know why. “I guess I was misinformed.”
“Welcome to the world of Zachary Jeffcoat. I don’t know what angle he’s working with you, and I don’t know what he told you. But if he’s talking, he’s lying.” Hannah sipped soda from a tall, plastic tumbler. “Don’t ask me why he’d lie about something that was so easy to catch him on. He’s usually better than that.”
“He didn’t know I was going to meet you.”
“Right, that’s it, and he would know that I would avoid meeting with you, which I totally tried to do.”
Christine had called Hannah five times, not about to give up. “I had that impression. Why, though?”
“My boyfriend getting arrested as a serial killer?” Hannah shook her head, newly somber. “I want nothing to do with that, believe me. I have nothing to do with that. It’s horrible, it’s embarrassing, it’s scary. My parents went ballistic. They liked him. They’re both doctors in town, in family practice. They’re beside themselves.”
“When did you break up with him?”
“The night they arrested him. He called me from the police station in West Chester. I went with my dad.”
“And you broke up with Zachary right then?”
“Totally, it was a no-brainer.” Hannah chuckled, without mirth. “He was sitting there in handcuffs and a white paper jumpsuit. He had washed up, but there was still blood under his fingernails and in his hair. I’m not one of those dumb women who stand by their man, no matter what. It was a long time coming, anyway. We hadn’t been that happy for a while.”
Christine wondered if she had become one of those dumb women. “Do you think he’s guilty?”
“Possibly, okay?” Hannah shook her head, curling her nose in distaste. “I hate to think I was with somebody who was that sick and didn’t know it. My dad is sending me links to articles about serial killers whose girlfriends and wives didn’t know it. It’s so freaky. I think they’re right. It could’ve been me.”
“Where was he the night of the murder? It was last Monday, June 15.”
“I have no idea. I was in town, at my apartment. Zachary told me he was on the road in Maryland. Liar.”
Christine felt dismay at yet another lie. “Did you speak with him that night?”
“No, he texted me, saying he was working soooo hard. Boo-hoo. What a joke.”
“What time did he text you?”
“About eight o’clock. I was studying with my friends.”
“Can you just tell me briefly about your relationship? You started dating Zachary when, when you entered med school?”
“Yes, the summer before first year. We met at an orientation mixer for accepted students, at a bar in Society Hill. I fell for him, like, bam. He is so hot.” Hannah smiled slightly. “It was good that summer, I’ll give him that. It was great when we thought we were both going to school.”
“Then what happened?”
“To start with, it was a problem that he never had any money, he had no help with tuition, and it was a constant issue. He worried all summer about making enough for tuition. He had, like, five jobs.”
“Do you know if he did anything else to make money?” Christine was wondering if Hannah knew that Zachary had been a sperm donor.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, sell blood? Donate sperm, like some students do?”
“No, I have no idea if he did any of that.” Hannah shrugged it off. “But he did need money. I paid for a lot of things, I didn’t mind, my family has the money. But then Zachary couldn’t come up with the tuition.” Hannah shook her head. “He was mad when I wouldn’t ask my father for a loan. We had a huge fight. He lost his temper, out of nowhere.”
Christine flashed on Zachary’s sudden temper, which she’d experienced.
“He called me names, too. Basically ‘rich bitch.’ It wasn’t nice.”
“Did that happen often?”
“No, but I didn’t forget it. I wouldn’t put up with that.” Hannah frowned. “He started making noises like he couldn’t register because you can’t register until your tuition is paid. So he conceded the obvious and got a job at Brigham, but he was bummed. He loved medicine more than I do. I mean, it sucked, and I was feeling guilty.”
“So then what happened?” Christine thought it was the flip side of what Zachary had said about their relationship, that he felt demoted when he didn’t go to med school.
“He was jealous that I was in med school and he wasn’t. He was on the road for three and four days a week for Brigham, and I was in lab, so we never saw each other. He resented me, and it started to come out in strange ways.”
“What ways?”
“Like sex. It got weird. He started to want to do things that I didn’t like.”
“What things?” Christine kept her tone gentle, seeing that Hannah was reluctant to continue.
“Like he wanted to tie me up, to be submissive. I’m not an idiot, I could see why. He resented that I was doing better, so he had to assert his power. His dominance.” Hannah pursed her lips. “He wasn’t in control of his life, so he tried to control what he could. Me, in bed.”
“Did he say how he wanted to tie you up?” Christine shuddered, knowing that it dovetailed with the serial killer’s MO, tying up the nurses.
“Yes, at the wrists, in front.” Hannah’s expression darkened. “I know, when I read that’s what the serial killer did, it freaked me the eff out. I mean, when I first knew him, I never would’ve thought he was capable of killing anybody, much less being a serial killer.” Hannah flared her eyes in disbelief. “But then, when he got arrested, I thought about how he got so weird in bed, toward the end. I could’ve been his next victim.”
Christine felt sickened, but she had to press on. “Did the police interview you?”
“They tried to, but my father called our lawyer and she said no way. I don’t want to get involved. The cops might try again, but she’ll handle it.”
“So the police don’t know any of this?”
“No. You won’t tell them, will you?”
“No, of course not.” Christine realized the information was what Griff had called bad facts.
“I don’t know if he did it or didn’t. I just don’t want to be involved in this. Zachary’s just a guy I dated, and it was good while it lasted, then it fizzled.” Hannah met Christine’s eye directly, straightening. “Don’t involve me. Don’t even think about calling me to testify for him. I wouldn’t be a good witness for him, you can see that.”
“Yes, I understand,” Christine said, though she felt more confused than ever. She had gone from believing in his guilt, to believing in his innocence, then back again to guilt.
“Now that it’s over, I’m starting to think that I didn’t really know him. He liked to travel. He likes moving around. He never sits still. He doesn’t let anybody get to know him. He deflects really hard questions. He won’t answer stuff about his past. I think he used to tell me stories just to get my sympathy, like about his sister dying.”
Christine remembered. “But that’s a true story, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I think it is.” Hannah nodded, pained. “But even if it’s a true story, what I figured out about Zachary is that he tells it for a reason. He tells it to make you feel sorry for him, and he’s so good-looking, and nice, and smart, the combination is irresistible. I said to him once, ‘you’re the kind of guy who wins The Bachelorette.’ With him, there’s just no there, do you know what I mean?”
“Maybe,” Christine answered, truthfully.
“I have to go.” Hannah checked her phone, then stood up. “Take everything he says with a grain of salt. Even that he’s innocent.”
Chapt
er Forty-five
Christine phoned Griff as soon as she got in the car, driving out of the city on the highway. It took her three calls in quick succession to reach him, but he finally picked up. “Griff, we need to talk. First, you need a cell phone.”
“I don’t want a cell phone.”
“Too bad. I’m buying you a cell phone.” Christine thought of what Detective Wallace had told her about Griff’s money. “Or you’re buying one for yourself. Either way, you need a cell phone because Zachary was injured at the prison yesterday and they couldn’t reach you.”
“I heard, today. It’s over.”
“He saved the guard’s life. Can you use that to get him moved to Chester County Prison?” Christine steered ahead in the fast lane, whizzing past a wide river that ran beside the highway. Brightly painted Victorian boathouses lined the far bank of the river. It was a lovely sight, but she was no tourist.
“No, they won’t do it.”
“But he’s in isolation, in ad seg.”
“It’s hell, but it’s safe. Pick your poison.” Griff didn’t sound happy. “Now what do you want?”
“I went to the crime scene, then I met with Zachary, his boss, and his girlfriend and—”
“You want applause?”
“No, but I was hoping I could fill you in and we could talk it over. I could use a sounding board, like last night.”
“I want to die without being anybody’s ‘sounding board.’”
Christine let it go. “How about I just fill you in? I’ll begin at the beginning, because it’s complicated—”
“What’s the headline?”
Christine collected her thoughts, driving into the sun as the highway curved to the left. She flipped her visor down. “Zachary lied about when he met Gail because he didn’t want his girlfriend to know he cheated twice—”
“Good answer.”
“—but the woman who used to be his girlfriend is no longer his girlfriend. His old girlfriend’s name is Hannah Dolan, but she’s not the woman paying half of his retainer.”
“Don’t care. Deposited the check. Can the old girlfriend give him an alibi for the night of the murder?”