Page 61 of Shattered Dreams

“I don’t know. I knew she owned lakeside property, but she never brought me out there. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

In a burst of fury I’m beginning to realize is very much like Zane, he pushes Mallory against the wall, the doctor’s white dress shirt bunched in his fists, knocking his black-framed glasses askew. “I don’t believe you.”

“Davenport, call off your mutt,” Mallory barks, his face red but calm. Baby likes him, he’s not scared of Zane, and he knows who I am. I may need to reassess just who exactly this guy is.

“He’s not going to answer questions like that,” I say, and Zane releases him, throwing me a dirty look. “What? He said he doesn’t know, but maybe we can change his mind. Nothing’s free.” I pull Mallory’s watch out of the inside pocket of my jacket. It’s sealed in an evidence bag similar to what the cops use when they’re combing a crime scene. If this discussion doesn’t go well, we’ll turn it over to the police. We may have to anyway. There’s been no progress made on Ingrid’s homicide, and for all I know, this is the only piece of evidence the cops will have.

“My Patek. Where did you find it? I’d like it back as it was given to me by a dear friend.”

“Do you mean Jerricka?” I ask.

Mallory nods. “She gave it to me as an engagement gift.”

“And what did you give her? An STD?” Zane asks, tongue-in-cheek.

Irritated, he clears his throat. “Very mature. She said she didn’t want anything, nothing material. She said all she ever wanted was to have a baby.”

“And did she?” I ask, surprised the ice queen has a biological clock that works.

“We never married.”

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t have a baby.”

“If she did, she didn’t have mine,” he says coldly, smoothing his shirt. He steps toward me, his arm outstretched. “Can I have it back, please?”

“Aren’t you curious why we have it?” I jiggle the bag.

He falters. “I—I assumed Jerricka gave it to you. I went to her apartment one evening to apologize, to try to explain my position. One thing led to another, and I spent the night. I forgot it on her nightstand. I’ve been trying to reach her to get it back, but she won’t return my calls.”

“Why would you assume I know Jerricka on a personal level?” I cringe.

“You’re dating Zarah Maddox. It’s all over the news. I thought, maybe, well, maybe she gave my watch to Miss Maddox to give to you. I’m not...I’m not sure.” Dr. Mallory loses some of his color. “Where did you find it?”

I ignore him and ask Zane, “Do you believe it?”

“Nope. You?”

“He seems sincere enough, but all these head shrinks know how to lie.”

“Do you know Ingrid Flannigan?” Zane asks.

Dr. Mallory loses what color he had left and slides his glasses off his face. Rubbing his eyes, he says, “This is bad, isn’t it? I need a drink.”

Baby trots happily alongside him, brushing up against his leg, leaving a smear of white fur on his black tuxedo pants.

Zane shoots me a puzzled look, but all I can do is shrug. Baby knows her people, and she’s made Mallory one of hers. I can’t explain it.

Mallory leads us into a mancave of a library. There are books everywhere, and scanning the shelves I find everything from Stephen King to Marlon James. Had this been any other kind of visit, it would have been pleasant to chat about the authors he enjoys, but his reading tastes will be the last thing we talk about.

Zane settles onto a leather couch and accepts a couple inches of something in a shiny lowball glass. I don’t sit, but I accept a glass as well, just to buff out my edges. The minutes are passing by in a blur of horror I’m trying desperately to push back because I’ve worked enough missing children cases, and adults for that matter, to know you can’t rush these things. Hints and clues are everywhere, and just because I want to know this second where Zarah is, that doesn’t mean I will.

I force myself to wait until Mallory has downed two drinks and is on his third, and then I ask, “So youdoknow Ingrid Flannigan.”

“I don’t, not in the way you’re implying. She’s dead. I read about it in the newspaper. Tortured by the sounds of it, and left to die, or by God’s grace, she was already dead, in a warehouse near the Renegade. She was Miss Maddox’s nurse, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. My father and I poked around that warehouse, and we found your watch at the scene. It has a smatter of blood on the face. If we gave it to the police to have it tested, do you think it would match Ingrid’s?”

“There’s no doubt,” Mallory says and downs the rest of his drink. He’ll be drunk before long if he keeps it up. “When was she killed?”

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