“Why? Because you couldn’t control your wife? Like I’m not a person with a will of my own? Since when did you become so sexist?”

“I’m not embarrassed for my sake, I am embarrassed for your sake. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Christine snapped, and on impulse, she pressed END to hang up, her throat tight.

The stalled traffic became a blur of red lights, and she tried to remember the last time she’d hung up on her husband. She’d never felt so separate from him, ever before. She wished she could have shared with him what she’d figured out about Linda Kent, so she could make him see that what she was doing was for a good reason. But she’d have to stop trying. Marcus had said it was too much to ask him to join her. With or without him, this was her mission, and she had to see it through, for her sake and for the baby’s. It still didn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

She had another call to make.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Traffic slowed, and Christine waited until it was safe to make the call. “Gary, do you have a minute?” she asked as soon as he picked up.

“I assume you talked to Marcus. Don’t worry. Just because Homestead didn’t cave on the phone doesn’t mean—”

“That’s not what I’m calling about.” Christine took a deep breath, giving the car gas. “I need to clarify something. We’re still going to file suit against Homestead, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“When are you going to do that?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And my name is on the case, right?”

“The caption? Yes. The caption reads Marcus Nilsson and Christine Nilsson versus Homestead and its parent company, Homestead International. Is that what you’re asking?”

“Yes.” Christine could imagine it, having seen the papers. “Now here’s my question. When you file that in court, is it public record?”

“Yes.”

“So people can see it?”

“In theory, yes, but only in theory. Marcus asked me the same question since the fact that you used a donor isn’t public knowledge.”

Christine felt surprised since Marcus hadn’t mentioned that detail to her.

“It’s public but it’s not easy for the public to know. It’s not like the court sends out a bulletin to anybody. You have to know a lawsuit was filed before you even search for it, then you have to search for it on the district court’s website, which is impossible to use if you’re a layperson. Hell, it’s not easy to use if you’re a lawyer.”

Christine breathed easier. “Right, okay, so how does Homestead get a copy?”

“I serve it on them.”

“Does that mean you mail it?”

“Yes. I mail it to their lawyer. He’s agreed to accept service.”

“Do you send a copy to Zachary Jeffcoat?”

“No. He’s not a party.”

“Does Homestead send a copy to Zachary Jeffcoat?”

“No, I doubt it. As I say, he’s not a party.”

Christine breathed a relieved sigh. “So Zachary won’t necessarily know that a lawsuit is being filed that involves him?”

“Correct, but let’s be precise. As a legal matter, our lawsuit doesn’t involve Zachary Jeffcoat. It involves only his donation. I doubt Homestead will notify him about the lawsuit.”

“Why? They know, because of us, that Zachary is Donor 3319, and therefore they know he’s in Graterford. Why don’t they mail him papers?”

“They have no reason to. If this were a case in which Jeffcoat’s donation was tainted or carried a disease, for example, if he carried Tay-Sachs or some other illness, then I could see them notifying him. But there’s no regs or laws that require that. That’s part of the problem we’re dealing with in our lawsuit, the absence of laws in this area.” Gary snorted. “They’re hoisted on their own petards.”

“So they wouldn’t have any reason to notify him?”

“No. Besides, the only other reason parties to litigation reach out is to join others as codefendants or to seek indemnification against them for damages. In other words, to get money out of them. Homestead doesn’t need to do that with Jeffcoat. It and its parent company have a deep pocket, and I’m sure Jeffcoat is judgment-proof.”

“What does judgment-proof mean?”

“Broke. So I doubt they’ll let him know. Why are you asking?”

Christine decided to come clean. “I’m back in Pennsylvania, working as a paralegal on Zachary’s defense.”

“For real?” Gary asked, surprised. “But you’re a teacher.”

“Never underestimate the power of a teacher.”

“I’m not, but you’re not trained in legal research.”

“I’m not doing legal research, I’m doing factual research. It’s common sense. Your wife is a paralegal, isn’t she? Did she go to paralegal school?”

“No, she didn’t. I trained her.”

“Same here. The lawyer is training me.”

“This Griff guy?” Gary chuckled softly. “Oh, man. But Griff doesn’t know why you’re really there. I get it, now.”

“Yes, and I was wondering how much time I had before my cover was blown.”

“You have time.” Gary chuckled softly again. “I’m going to be in trouble with your husband, aren’t I?”

“I’m your client, too,” Christine shot back, firm. “Last question. This doesn’t hurt our lawsuit in any way, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’m just engaging in self-help, like you said.”

“I created a monster.”

“No, it’s not on you, it’s on me.” Christine felt the conviction in her words as she drove into town. “The more I learn about this case, the more I doubt that Zachary’s really a serial killer.”

“What does Marcus say?”

“He’s not happy.”

“But he knows where you are, you told him?”

“Yes, I asked him to come, and he said no. I know what I’m doing and I know why I’m doing it. I don’t have to justify it to anybody.”