Page 88 of Murder By the Millions

I did my best. “In the end, Jason held Patrick down and said, ‘Memories of one’s mistakes rarely fade.’”

‘“Memories of one’s mistakes.’”

“Mm-hmm. Well, get this, Tegan and I learned Patrick went astray a few times in his past.”

Zach folded his arms, but he didn’t order me to be quiet. Maybe he didn’t want to snap at me with his mother present.

“Before I tell you more,” I began, “I want you to know I like Patrick, and I don’t want him to be guilty.”

One side of his mouth twitched, as if he was tamping down a smile. “Go on.”

“We ran into an old friend of his at Linville Caverns.”

“What were you … Never mind. Continue.”

“The friend told us he and Patrick did some eco-trashing when they were young.” I quickly explained the term. “The friend—”

“Got a name?”

“Zorro. I didn’t get a last name. I don’t know where he lives. It was pure coincidence to run into him. Anyway, he said the stunt hurt Patrick’s relationship with his stepfather.”

“Which has nothing to do with Jason Gardner.”

“Right, and having a reputation for eco-trashing probably wouldn’t hurt Patrick in the long run. Kids do silly stuff.”Like make prank calls,I mused. “But get this. Zorro started to share something more about Patrick and stopped. He said, ‘The other thing was what prevented Patrick from getting a grant to attend college.’”

“What other thing?”

“I was curious, too, so I did a bit of evidence searching online.”

His mouth twitched. “You mean investigating?”

“I landed on a person-in-the-spotlight article about Patrick and his business. He assaulted someone.”

Jenny appeared at my side, a spray bottle of cleanser in one hand, a rag in the other. “Did the article say who he assaulted?”

“Mom,” Zach said.

She squirted the cleanser at him, missing on purpose. “I’m here. I’m listening.” She turned back to me. “Did it?”

“No,” I replied. “The article didn’t pop up. The text next to the link read, ‘Hardwick’s sealed record for assault remains secret.’ When I clicked on it, it led nowhere.”

“I hate broken links,” Jenny said. “They’re maddening. You always end up on a page for some miracle cure, or you wind up on a bogus site eager to eat your computer’s brain.”

I nodded.

“But an independent business operator must learn to navigate the Internet if one is to thrive,” she said. “What else did you learn?”

Zach’s gaze remained fixed.

“I saw a picture of Patrick, age ten, by his father’s grave, and the caption mentioned his father had killed someone, but it didn’t elaborate. Around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago, I figure.”

“I remember that!” Jenny exclaimed and regarded her son. “I was pregnant with you at the time.” She said to me, “What was the man’s name? Gil … Gil … Gil … Killagher.” She swatted her leg with the wet rag. “Remember the Killaghers?” she asked Zach. “They owned a one-hundred-and-fifty-acre ranch north of here. No, you wouldn’t remember. It was bought by another operation by the time you were a toddler. Gil was a drunk. He started a knife fight with Patrick’s father. I’m surprised the photograph you saw said Patrick’s father murdered the man. Itwas self-defense. He went to prison, though, and died a year later. In a knife fight, of all things. How ironic.”

Zach said, “Just because his father killed someone doesn’t mean Patrick would have.”

“Of course not,” I said. “I’d hate to be judged by my parents’ faults.” Which were few. Lack of interest in pursuits other than their own was their worst. “But doesn’t it make you wonder? What if Jason knew all this and somehow got his hands on the sealed record? What if he threatened to expose Patrick?”

“Good point,” Jenny said.