Page 12 of Big Bad Wolfe

Mouth watering, Zane bowed his head. After Jillian’s mercifully short blessing, he attacked the food. Accustomed to solitary to-go or microwaved prefab dinners, he’d never tasted anything so delicious. He devoured his first helping and started on seconds before finally pausing long enough to speak. “I have a kick-ass attorney who’s making an appointment for a DNA test tomorrow, with a rush on the results. I’m supposed to fax all custody suit documents you’ve been served to the law office, then we’ll meet after the DNA results come in.”

“I’ll arrange for time off.” She frowned. “It’s obvious Casey is yours, but yes, we need to get DNA confirmation.” White teeth worried her generous lower lip. “Do they have to take blood? Casey freaks over needles.”

“No, they’ll swab the inside of my cheek and the inside of Casey’s and compare samples. It’s painless. They’ll also want something personal of Deb’s, like a toothbrush, or hairbrush to collect her DNA. With both parents’ DNA, they can determine paternity within 99.9 percent.”

“I packed up her things, and saved a few mementos for myself and Casey. I’ll have to look.”

“What happened to Deb, Jillian?”

She put down her fork. “It was … She, Casey and I had a standing breakfast date, every Saturday morning. The morning she … died … she didn’t show up. I called her cell and her home phone, but there was no answer.” She looked down, her fingertip unsteadily tracing the edge of her plate. “Deb was found in her bed, dead of an overdose of prescription migraine medications.”

His breath caught, his body jerked.“Suicide?”

“No! She wouldn’t kill herself!”

Bile surged in his throat and he pushed aside his plate. Jillian was obviously in denial about her friend. He’d seen the mental games, knew the damage they could cause. Hell, he’d lived them. “Desperate people do desperate things,” he growled. He of all people should know. “Happens every damned day.”

“Deb didnotcommit suicide!” She swallowed hard. “She was alone in the house with Casey at the time.”

Zane began to shake. “Oh, God.” He closed his eyes against a backlash of pain. “Don’t … don’t tell me the kid found his mother dead.”

“No.”

The raw torment in that one quiet syllable made his stomach bottom out. “You did.”

She gulped. “We had— We had keys to each other’s houses. Remember I told you Casey sleeps through anything? I drove over and let myself in.” Jillian’s lower lip quivered, and she bit down on it. “Yes, I found her.”

“I’m sorry, Jillian.” He reached over, covered her fingers with his. In spite of the warm evening, her petal-soft skin was icy. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“It was horrible.” Her trembling hand clutched his, as if seeking his strength.

He wished he could offer her more. But he had nothing left to give.

“Even though I knew it was too late, I called 9-1-1. Then I woke Casey and hustled him out before anybody showed up. I figured that was the best thing for him.”

“Admirably clear thinking, especially considering the stress you were under,” he said gently. “What makes you so convinced Deb’s death wasn’t self-induced? Do you think she accidentally overdosed?”

“Have you ever had a migraine?”

“Nope.”

“I have. They feel like a pile driver is drilling your skull, you go blind from black spots in front of your eyes, and get horrendously nauseated. There’snothingyou won’t do for relief. Deb had them frequently. But the meds knocked her out, so she wouldn’t even take her prescribed dose until someone was there for Casey. She’d call me first, then wait until I got there. Sometimes she’d be sobbing and vomiting from the pain by the time I arrived.” She squeezed his hand harder. “If I wasn’t available, she’d call my dad, or our coworker and mutual friend Loucinda. Deb sufferedagonyrather than put Casey at risk. She was an incredibly dedicated mother. She never,everwould have killed herself and left her son alone all night. Or take the chance he would find her body.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” She leaned forward. “Someone murdered her.”

Zane tensed.Hello anticipated conspiracy theory. “Look, Jillian, I understand you don’t want to believe your best friend killed herself.” He understood far better than she realized. “But—”

“She wouldn’t. Shedidn’t.”

“Okay. An unattended death requires an autopsy and investigation. Were suspicions raised, was evidence of foul play found?”

“No, but the ‘investigation’ was cursory, at best. Zane, she had more thantriplethe prescribed amount of medication in her system, and she’d also been drinking wine. There’s no way in hell that was accidental, and shedidn’ttake it on purpose. And I know who killed her … although I can’t prove it. Yet.”

He frowned. “Who do you believe did it?”

“I—” Her voice quavered. “Deb was my best friend, and I don’t— I can’t judge her, okay? But she was having an affair … with a married man. They’d first met back in D.C., then really clicked when they ran into each other here and he started helping with fundraising at the center. She loved him, and said he loved her, too.” She swallowed hard. “Wade Reynolds.”

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