“Christine! Sorry it took me so long. I’m trying to pack two bicycles in the back of the car and they got tangled up, the pedal of one got stuck in the spokes of the other.” Lauren sounded exasperated. “I told Josh we need a bike rack, but does anybody listen to me? No.”

“So it’s that kind of morning.”

“Yes, in other words, typical. What are you up to?”

“I’ll tell you if you won’t worry, because I’m on my way.”

“Where?”

“Do you want to hear about the fact that my father-in-law is becoming a father again, the tattooed alcoholic we met in West Chester is dead, or that I’m on my way back to Pennsylvania?”

“What?” Lauren said, astonished, and for the next thirty miles, Christine filled her in on what had happened. Lauren had the reaction Christine had expected, which was generally “are you really sure,” “you need to be careful,” “I’m not sure if you should be doing this,” and stopping just short of, “wait an hour before you go in the water.” But after Christine told Lauren what her plan was and convinced her that it was safe, or at most a waste of time, her best friend came around, reluctantly. Which was why the two women were best friends forever, because each one always believed in the other.

Lauren said, “You have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be careful, I’m careful. But don’t you think it’s suspicious that Kent turned up dead?”

“I don’t know why you think it’s suspicious if the police don’t.”

“Because they have no reason to believe her death is suspicious. They don’t know what she saw, they never called her back.”

“True.”

“Let’s assume Kent was murdered because she saw the killer on the stairs the night Gail Robinbrecht was killed, or because the killer thinks that she saw him. That means that Zachary isn’t the serial killer.”

“You’re creeping me out with all this talk of Kent getting murdered and serial killers.”

“It happens.”

“Not in our world. Our world is kids and bicycles and Crayola and standardized testing.”

Christine smiled. That used to be her world, but she didn’t know where her world was any longer. She wasn’t a teacher anymore, and her previously happy marriage was in trouble. She knew she wanted to be a mother, and she knew she wanted to be the mother of the child she was carrying. But that loop kept leading her back to Zachary Jeffcoat.

“I’m worried about you and Marcus.”

“Me, too.” Christine drove on, rain pounding against the windshield. “I know this is going to sound strange, but that’s part of the reason I’m going. I wish I could pretend Zachary doesn’t exist, but he does, and I’m not going to be happy unless I try to help him, one way or the other.”

“What if you can’t help him?”

“Then at least I tried. Unless I try, it’s going to bug me. You know how I am.”

“Curious.”

Christine smiled.

“But what about Gary? Does this mess up your lawsuit?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m doing what you call self-help.”

Lauren sighed. “How long do you think you’ll be down there?”

“I don’t know, a couple of days? I’m going to play it by ear. If my mother calls you, back up my story. I’m at your house at the Jersey Shore.”

“The house is getting a lot of use for a house that never gets any use.” Lauren chuckled. “What does Marcus know?”

“I didn’t lie. I told him where I was going.”

“What’d he say?”

“He’s angry. So be it.” Christine knew she sounded tougher than she felt.

“So what do I tell him if he calls here?”

“He’s not going to, but if he does, tell him to call my cell. I made a reservation at the Warner Hotel in West Chester.”

“That town has a hotel?”

“Just the one, it’s a converted movie theater.”

“So no Jacuzzi.”

“Not likely. It looks nice online.” Christine braked when the downpour intensified, and a passing truck sprayed her with grit and water. “Okay, I should go. The rain is bad.”

“Stay in touch. I’ll give you a call to check on you.”

“Take care, talk soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Christine hung up, with only one more phone call to make. She pressed Griff’s number, and the lawyer answered on the first ring.

“Christine. I’m busy.”

“Can I meet with you this afternoon?” she asked, with hope.

Chapter Thirty-three

Christine walked down the hall toward Griff’s office, gearing herself up. It was one thing to have a plan and another to put it into action, especially when it required convincing Griff the Gruff. She reached the end of the hall and opened the door just as he hung up his landline.

“Why are you here?” Griff frowned, and Christine was pleased to see he was better groomed than the other day. His hair was almost tamed with something pomade-y, and he had on a white oxford shirt, a red-and-blue bow tie, and a boxy blue-and-white seersucker suit, like a demented Atticus Finch.

“Thanks for seeing me, Griff. You look very spruced up.”

“Did I ask you?”

“No, that’s called being polite.” Christine sat down. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’m too busy.”

“On Zachary’s case?” Christine scanned the desk, which was newly cluttered, strewn with pencils, pens, and yellow legal pads covered with scribbled notes. To the right of the computer keyboard was a stack of expandable accordion files stuffed with papers and Xeroxed cases.

“None of your business. Why are you here? I’m busy.”

“Good.” Christine reached into her purse, pulled out a manila envelope, and slid both across the desk. “My résumé is inside. I’m married, thirty-two years old, and I’ve been a reading teacher at an elementary school for the past eight years.”

“Why do I care?” Griff didn’t even glance at the envelope.

“I want to be your paralegal. At no cost to you.”