“Nick never talks about her. I always assumed she was dead.”
“Nope, still very much alive. Victoria sent child support without fail, and far more than was required. She set up a bunch of investment accounts for Nick. Hell, his retirement was set by the time he was fifteen. She paid for that house he lives in. Sends lump sums every now and then.” He snorted. “As Nick got older, I half expected him to send it back with a nicely worded ‘fuck you,’ but I guess he’s too practical—and too kind—for that. He squirrels it away and sends her a thank you note. Every. Single. Time.”
“That’s . . . kind of heartbreaking.”
As if agreeing, Nick moaned long and low.
Bear gave a sad nod. “I feel the same way. I never wanted to be a single dad, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to abandon him the way his mom did. I just wish I’d done a better job.”
“What? At raising him? Nick’s a terrific guy.”
“He is, but more despite me than because of me. I should’ve been more of a dad than a father and really listened to him.” His breath hitched. “I know you saw that black eye I gave him right before Mardi Gras. I swear to god, that was the first and only time I ever laid hands on that boy.”
The agony in his eyes was all too real. “I believe you,” I said softly.
Bear tightened his arm around my shoulders. “You’ve been a real gift to my family, Angel.” He lifted his free hand to wipe his eyes. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be a part of it.”
“Goddammit, Bear,” I muttered as the fucking floodgates let loose in my tear ducts. Then I had to compose myself as Jacques came over to us.
“Dr. Nikas left for NuQuesCor shortly before you called, Angel,” Jacques said. “He’s aware of Nick’s condition and will return to assess for himself, if you’d like.”
I managed a watery smile. “I think he’ll do Nick more good if he continues his work there.” I glanced up at Bear and got a nod of agreement. “Please give Dr. Nikas my thanks, and if you need any help here, I could use something to keep me busy.”
“I will convey your thanks,” Jacques said. “And I’d welcome the help processing these samples from Nick and inputting the data.”
Bear patted my shoulder. “I’ll stay here with Nick and will let you know if anything changes.”
I threw my arms around Bear in a hug then followed Jacques to the histology room. Jacques immediately busied himself with prepping slides, and I moved to do likewise.
Yet now that I wasn’t freaking out quite so much about Nick, I noticed that Jacques wasn’t as placid and collected as he usually was. In fact, he looked downright upset—hands trembling as he worked, and face bearing an actual grimace. And I didn’t think it had anything to do with Nick.
“Jacques? What’s wrong?”
A slide slipped from his grasp to break on the tile floor. He looked down at the pieces then up at me. “I—” He tightened his hands into fists then took a deep breath and relaxed them, shoulders sagging. “I made an error, and I’m not sure how.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jacques stooped to clean up the broken slide. “Yesterday, during the blood draws, Dr. Nikas instructed me to switch the tube labels on Pierce’s blood and one of yours. Which I did.”
“Right. Dr. Nikas told me you’d do it. Once you made the switch, Pierce’s tube had my name on it, and mine had his. I’m guessing you pocketed his real blood, and Kristi was left with a tube marked as Pierce’s but was actually mine.”
“That was the plan, yes. And I followed it.” His brow creased. “I couldn’t take Pierce’s real tube immediately with Dr. Charish’s tech there, but I did so it as soon as I could.”
“So . . . what was your error?”
“When I arrived here and removed the stopper from what was supposed to be Pierce’s tube, I instantly realized that it was your blood, not his.”
I blinked. “Wait. How did you know?”
“The scent,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been working with blood samples for over a century and have developed a keen nose for such.”
“Maybe you just grabbed the wrong one,” I said, packing my tone with all sorts of reassurance. It was unnerving seeing Jacques upset like this. “The important thing is that you got the labels switched. As long as Pierce’s blood isn’t marked as his, it should be okay. Kristi would have no way of knowing it was mature zombie blood, right?”
Jacques nodded slowly. “The factors are subtle, even with a complete DNA analysis.”
“And does Kristi even know about mature zombies?”
“No,” he said with zero hesitation. “That information has always been kept from her—as from most.”