He Never Forgot Read online

  He Never Forgot

  Zachary Goldman Mysteries #9

  P.D. Workman

  Copyright © 2020 by P.D. Workman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 9781774680100 (IS Hardcover)

  ISBN: 9781774680094 (IS Large Print)

  ISBN: 9781774680117 (IS Paperback)

  ISBN: 9781774680063 (KDP Paperback)

  ISBN: 9781774680070 (Kindle)

  ISBN: 9781774680087 (ePub)

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  * * *

  For those who remember

  Even when it hurts

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Bonus material

  Mailing List

  Preview of She Was At Risk

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by P.D. Workman

  About the Author

  1

  Zachary was on the highway driving home from Jocelyn’s house, thinking over his visit with Joss and the young man she was helping out, now known as Luke. It was going to be a long recovery period for Luke, after being trapped in human trafficking—both servicing his own clients and forced to recruit and train new teens—for a number of years. Successfully separating himself from that life was going to be more challenging for him than rehabbing from years of drug abuse. But if there were anyone who could help him through the process, it was Jocelyn.

  Joss had only recently come back into Zachary’s life. Separated from his family when he was ten, he was gradually reuniting with his siblings. Joss was the oldest, and the hardest so far to reconcile with. He sensed that she blamed him for the hard life she’d led, and rightly so, since he was the one who had accidentally lit the fire, the straw that broke the camel’s back. His parents had relinquished the children, severing all ties, and they had all been placed in foster care. So far, none of them had led particularly happy lives. Tyrrell seemed to have led the most normal life. Zachary hoped that the youngest children in the family would turn out to have had an easier time. They had been almost two and four when they had been put into foster care, and under-fives had the best chances of recovering from trauma and leading a happy life.

  But despite their differences and Jocelyn’s generally bitter attitude, when Zachary had freed Luke from the trafficking ring, she had agreed to take him in and help him out. Zachary had a feeling that they would be good for each other. Joss already seemed to be gentler and happier around him. She didn’t have any children of her own—as far as Zachary knew—and she seemed to have taken Luke under her wing. He was legally an adult, but still needed her protection and direction, and it seemed to be working out so far.

  He was enjoying the smooth highway drive, one of the only times that his restless brain would settle down and enter a more relaxed, meditative state, when his phone rang over the car’s Bluetooth system.

  Zachary hit the answer button without looking at the number, assuming it would be Kenzie. But the voice that answered his greeting was not Kenzie’s.

  “Mr. Goldman? Is this the right number?” an uncertain male voice inquired.

  “Yeah, this is Zachary.” Zachary looked at the number on the radio screen but didn’t recognize it. “How can I help you?”

  “Of Goldman Investigations?”

  “Yes, sir.” Zachary waited for an explanation, hoping it was a client and not the IRS or a reporter.

  “Uh… my name is Ben Burton. I’m interested in retaining your services. That’s how they say it, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t have to use any special jargon. What is it you need to hire a private investigator for?”

  “Well…” Burton still hesitated, unsure of himself. It wasn’t an unusual reaction from a client hiring a private investigator for the first time, thinking of TV show PI’s they had seen. Hard-drinking, gun-toting, brilliant investigators. Wondering if they could really hire someone for their own problem, or if it were just ridiculous. Knowing that TV was not reality, and not sure what to expect. “I’d like to discuss it face-to-face, if we could do that. It’s really…” Burton groped for a word, drawing it out painfully long.

  “Private?” Zachary suggested.

  “No. Um. Unusual, I guess. I don’t want you to just laugh it off as a prank call.”

  Zachary raised his brows as he navigated around a few slower-moving cars, intrigued. “I wouldn’t laugh it off if you’re serious.”

  “I’d rather not take that chance.”

  “Okay. Are you in town? Where do you want to meet?”

  “I’m just visiting. I’m at the Best Western. I don’t know the city; maybe you could suggest a place to meet.”

  “I could come to you there. If you don’t want to meet in your room, they have meeting rooms and a restaurant and lounge.”

  “The lounge sounds good,” Burton said, sounding relieved. “So, you will meet with me? You’ll really come?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m out of town right now, but I’m on my way back. When do you want to meet? How long are you in town?”

  “However long it takes, I suppose. Hopefully… not too long.”

  “All right. I’ve got a supper date, but maybe after that? Seven or eight?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be around. Why don’t you just call me when you’re done and on your way over?”

  “At this number?”

  “Yes. Ben Burton,” he offered nervously, and rattled off the phone number.

  “I’ve got it. I’ll give you a call tonight, then.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it. That’s great.”

  Because Zachary had thought it was Kenzie calling him, he felt the need to connect with her. He told his Bluetooth system to call her, and the call started to ring through. She would still be at work, but she would answer if she could. He was getting more used to the idea that they were a couple and he was important enough for her to interrupt her routine work to answer the phone when he called. For a long time, he’d been worried about calling her during her work hours, unless it was about something to do with the medical examiner’s office. He’d worried that she would chastise him, haul him over the coals like Bridget would have.

  But that was Bridget. And as he was learning,
he couldn’t judge all other women by the way his ex-wife behaved. He had thought that she was just honest, that other women all thought the same way as she did but were just too polite to say so. But Kenzie wasn’t like that.

  “Zachary.” She sounded relaxed and cheerful. A good day at the medical examiner’s office. “How did things go with Joss?”

  “I think it’s better every time I go there. She’s… less defensive. More relaxed.”

  “That’s good. It seemed like there were… a lot of walls there. A lot to get through before anyone could see the real Jocelyn.”

  “Especially me.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “She has her issues. I’m glad that you’ve stuck it out and didn’t let her scare you off.”

  Zachary considered that. Joss was prickly. And he remembered how she had treated him when they were both young and she was in charge of him. He was always getting into trouble, and that would get her in trouble, so she was sometimes too harsh in her reactions to him when he was doing his best. But he still loved her. He’d loved her then, and it hadn’t even occurred to him to walk away.

  “Zachary?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Zachary agreed. “I just… I’ve missed my family for so long. I’d never consider not having a relationship with her.”

  Kenzie laughed. “Well, you are unique, because most people wouldn’t persist with someone who was so cold and put up so many barriers. But you’ve worn her down.”

  Zachary shrugged to himself. It was hard for him to take a compliment, even from Kenzie.

  “I was calling to let you know that I have an appointment tonight. After dinner, though. It’s not bumping our date.”

  “Oh, okay.” She was probably disappointed that they wouldn’t have the full evening together. Zachary was working hard on that relationship too, but he couldn’t always meet her expectations. “That’s fine. Is it a client?”

  “Yes. A prospect, anyway.”

  “What kind of case?”

  “He didn’t want to tell me over the phone. Said I would think he was crazy. So… I don’t know whether it is someone I will end up working for or not.”

  “Yeah. That’s a little suspicious. Let me know what happens; it sounds intriguing. If he is crazy, I want to know all about it.”

  Zachary laughed. “Okay. We’ll see how it goes.”

  2

  Supper with Kenzie left him feeling pretty mellow, which was unusual for Zachary. He was happy to go with it. If he could step out of his stress and anxiety for a while, it would make his life a lot easier. After supper, he headed over to the Best Western lounge, giving Burton a call to let him know he was on his way. It was only a few minutes away.

  “The bar is pretty empty,” Burton informed him. “Why don’t you just meet me there.”

  Zachary agreed. When he got there, he scanned the bar briefly. There were only a couple of men sitting on stools along the counter, and only one of them was watching the door anxiously. Zachary nodded at the man and approached.

  Ben Burton was maybe a bit younger than Zachary, in his mid-thirties. He was pale, with black eyes and hair. What Zachary guessed was Italian or Greek heritage. Burton had a slightly receding hairline, ears that had probably earned him nicknames as a child, and thick arm hair that went all the way down the backs of his hands to his first knuckles. He held his hand out toward Zachary, looking as though he was going to pull it back again any second. Zachary took it and gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure Burton. Whatever he wanted investigated, it was stressing him out. A wandering wife? Child custody problem with an ex? Someone stalking and harassing him?

  “Don’t get up,” Zachary said, as Burton shifted to slide off of his bar stool. Burton stayed perched there in an awkward position. Zachary sat down on the stool next to him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Burton.”

  The bartender approached, eyebrows raised.

  “Coke,” Zachary requested.

  The bartender nodded and filled a glass from the fountain. He placed it on a napkin in front of Zachary.

  “Coke?” Burton demanded. “Don’t you drink?”

  Zachary glanced at the shot glass and half-full beer in front of Burton. A hard drinker, if Zachary didn’t miss his guess.

  “I generally avoid alcohol,” he explained. “It interferes with my meds.”

  Burton rolled his eyes as if he’d heard this excuse a hundred times before, which wasn’t how most people reacted to Zachary’s explanation for not drinking alcohol. Usually, if people knew it was a medical thing, they would accept it and not harass him further to join them in their spirits.

  “They’re just covering their butts,” Burton told him. “Most of the time, it doesn’t have any negative effect at all.”

  He appeared to speak with the voice of experience. Zachary made a mental note of the fact but didn’t pull out his notebook. He sipped his cola and waited for Burton to make the next move.

  “So, I guess you want to know why I wanted to meet with you,” Burton said finally.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Let’s get a booth.” Burton cast a suspicious look toward the bartender.

  Zachary agreed, and let Burton pick one out. He did not, Zachary noted, pick a seat with a view of the doors. Not someone who was watching his back. So probably not worried about a stalker.

  Zachary sat opposite Burton in the booth. He took his notepad out and laid it on the table beside his hand. “You don’t mind if I need to make notes?”

  Burton shifted back and forth, thinking about it, then nodded. Zachary started on a fresh page and put Burton’s name at the top. He wrote the date carefully. Too many of his notes had dates that he had to guess at. A six or an eight? A one or a seven? He wanted to improve. Digitizing his notes meant that they would be in his cloud storage indefinitely. He wanted something he could read later on down the line.

  Zachary looked at Burton, waiting.

  “I don’t know how to start this,” Burton said.

  “Just let me know why you want a private investigator. And don’t worry about it, I’ve heard all kinds of stories.”

  Burton cleared his throat. He looked up into the corner of the ceiling of the lounge, fingering his glass. “I don’t know. It’s not like it’s anything embarrassing. I just want to find the house I used to live in as a kid.”

  Zachary nodded. “Okay.”

  He waited to see if Burton would explain further. Burton remained silent and brooding.

  “So you lived here in town when you were younger,” Zachary suggested.

  “I think so.”

  Zachary raised his brows.

  “From what I can remember, I mean. I didn’t grow up here, but I think before, I lived here.”

  “Your parents can’t tell you?”

  “I was adopted. I don’t know anything about who my bio parents are. Or were. I don’t know very much at all about my own history.”

  “Ah.” Zachary nodded. “I grew up in foster homes and institutions, so I know a bit about what that’s like.”

  “I’m not saying it was bad. It wasn’t. I have great parents; they gave me everything I needed. I just… I need something else. I need to know where I came from. Something about my past.”

  “Sure.”

  Burton drank, not looking at Zachary.

  There were physical similarities between the two of them. Zachary was also pale-skinned with dark hair. His was buzz-cut short so that he didn’t need to do much to take care of it. He had enough to handle without having to worry about styling his hair too. He was shorter than Burton, shorter than most of the adults he knew. The result of poor nutrition before he was put into foster care and growth-stunting meds after.

  Burton was clean-shaven. He kind of looked like an actor from a noir movie. That pale face and his dark eyes and eyebrows. Very dramatic and brooding.

  “Maybe you could outline what you do know about your childhood. You came here, so you have reasons to believe this is where you came from.”r />
  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s something I just made up as a kid. Because I had to be from somewhere, you know? A lot of the things that I used to tell people about myself… I don’t know how many of them are true and how many are just things I made up because I didn’t have anything else to tell.”

  “And you told people you were from here. What else did you tell them?” Zachary wrote a couple of words on his notepad to help him remember everything later.

  Burton studied him, his dark brows drawing down in a scowl. “What makes you believe me when no one else does?”

  “Believe you? You said that you might be from here. I don’t see anything particularly unbelievable in that statement.”

  “When I think about living here, when I try to picture the house that I came from… my heart speeds up, and I start to sweat, and I get this feeling in my chest. This… pressure.”

  Zachary nodded. “Because you can’t remember, or because of something that happened in the past?”

  “I don’t know. I think that something happened, but I can’t remember what it was.”

  “How did you end up with your adoptive parents? They didn’t know your bio parents? You went to your adoptive family from…”

  “I was in DCF custody. In a foster home, I guess. They didn’t know much about the circumstances I had come from. Or they didn’t tell my adoptive parents. Or Mom and Dad just couldn’t remember the details anymore.”