“As the date got closer, Jack’s anxiety rose. That was understandable and expected. We redoubled our efforts to work on deep muscle relaxation, pinpointed the stimuli that really set off his anxiety- basically we gave it the full-court press. I thought we were doing fine but about a week ago, Jack called me in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, agitated. I told him to come over but he said he’d wait until morning. I asked if he was sure, he said he was and promised to show up at nine AM. He arrived at eleven, looking haggard. I assumed it was pre-flight jitters but he said there were other things on his mind. I encouraged him to talk about anything that bothered him. He made a joke about it- something along the lines of ‘That’s allowed? Good old-fashioned head-shrinking instead of cognitive hoochy-coo mojo mind-bending?’ ”

He sat down on the bed, touched the guitar case. “That had been an issue right from the beginning. Jack did not want psychotherapy. Said he’d had plenty of that during his various rehab stints and that the sound of his own voice bitching made him want to puke.”

“Afraid of something?” said Baker.

“Aren’t we all?” Delaware slipped off his jacket, folded it neatly, placed it on the bed. Changed his mind, got up and hung it in the closet.

He sat back down. “There’s always that possibility. What people in my business call baloney afraid of the slicer. But I take people at their word until proven otherwise and I went along with Jack not wanting to get into topics other than flying. We had a deadline approaching and I knew if Jack didn’t get on that plane, I’d never see him again. But now, he’d changed his mind and wanted to talk. I’m not saying what he told me about is profoundly relevant to your case, but I thought you should know.”

“Appreciate it,” said Baker, holding out an expectant palm.

“What Jack wanted to talk about was family,” said Delaware. “That surprised even me because Jack had always been an extremely focused and goal-oriented patient. I’m sure the stress of the upcoming flight released a barrage of unpleasant memories. He started with a brutal upbringing. Abusive father, negligent mother, both of them doctors- respectable on the outside but severe alcoholics who turned his childhood into a nightmare. He was the only child, bore the brunt of it. His memories were so traumatic that he’d seriously considered sterilization when he was in his twenties, but never followed through because he was too damn lazy and stoned and didn’t want anyone ‘cutting down there before I had enough fun.’ But I’m not sure that was it. I think a part of him did yearn for that parent-child connection. Because when he talked about not having his own family, he got extremely morose. Then he brought up something he’d done that made him smile: fathering a child with an actress who was gay and sought him out because she admired his music.”

“Melinda Raven,” said Lamar.

“So you know.”

“That’s all we know. Her name.”

“The story she put out for the media was sperm donation,” said Delaware. “The truth was, Jack and she made love. Several times until she conceived. She had a boy. Jack was not involved in his life.”

“Why not?”

“He claimed it was fear,” said Delaware. “That he’d mess the boy up. I know Jack’s image was that of a rock ’n’ roll bad boy, afraid of nothing. And he had taken some outrageous risks during the early days, but those had been fueled by drugs. At the core, he was a highly fearful man. Ruled by fear. When he brought up Owen, he looked proud. But then when he got into Owen not being a part of his life, he broke down. Then he started on a long jag about all the other children he might’ve sired. All those groupies, one-night stands, decades of random promiscuity. He made a joke about it. ‘I’m a bachelor, meaning no kids. To speak of.’ Then he broke down again. Wondering what might have been. Visualizing himself old and alone at the end of his life.”

“With his money,” said Lamar, “if he sired kids, you’d think at least some of the women would’ve filed paternity suits.”

“I told him exactly that. He said a few had tried but they’d all turned out to be liars. What concerned him were the honest women too kind to exploit him. Or women who simply didn’t know. His phrasing was ‘I rained sperm on the world, it had to sprout somewhere.’ ”

“Why wouldn’t women know?”

Delaware ran his fingers through his curls. “At the height of Jack’s career, he spent a lot of time in a haze that included group sex, orgies, just about anything you can imagine.”

“He partied hearty and now he’s worrying about unknown kids?” said Baker.

“He was an old man,” said the psychologist. “Getting closer to mortality can turn you inward.”

Same phrase Sheralyn had used about Tristan.

Father and son…

Delaware said, “What I’m saying is that the issue of family- not having a family- was on Jack’s mind as the trip approached. And something else he told me- something I really didn’t appreciate at the time- makes me wonder if the trip was really about family.”

Lamar hid his enthusiasm. “The story was he was coming out here for the Songbird benefit.”

“Yes, it was, but you know guys like me.” Small smile. “Always looking for hidden meaning.”

“What’s the thing he told you?”

“The day after he poured out his heart, he came in looking great. Standing straighter, walking taller, clear-eyed. I said he seemed like a man with a mission. He laughed and said I was right on. He was ready to fly, ready for anything God or Odin or Allah or whoever was in charge was going to toss his way. ‘Gonna sing my guts out, Doc. Gonna reclaim my biology.’ That’s the part I overlooked when I first talked to you. ‘Biology.’ I thought he was relating it to ‘guts.’ Joking around, that was Jack’s style. He made light of things that frightened him until they got to a level where they overwhelmed him.”

“Reclaiming his biology,” said Baker. “A paternity thing?”

“The day before, all he could talk about was paternity. I should’ve made the connection.”

“And you’re thinking that’s relevant because…”

“I’m no homicide expert,” said Delaware. “But I’ve seen a few crime scenes. The paper said Jack was stabbed and a knife can be an intimate weapon. You need to get up close and personal when you use one. If you tell me Jack was robbed, I’ll change my mind. If he wasn’t, I’ll continue to wonder if he was cut by someone he knew. Given his remark about biology, how resolute he looked before we left, I’ll also wonder if he chose Nashville for his maiden voyage- chose that particular benefit, when there are so many others- because he wanted to be here for a personal reason. And ended up dying because of it.”

Neither detective spoke.

Delaware said, “If I’ve wasted your time, sorry. I wouldn’t have felt right if I didn’t tell you.”

Baker said, “We appreciate it, Doctor.” Leaning over and taking the fax. “Do you know a woman named Cathy Poulson?”

“Sorry, no.”

“No curiosity about why I asked?”

“I’ve learned to modulate my curiosity. But sure, who is she?”

“Old girlfriend of Jack’s. Hung out with him in LA, maybe thirty years ago.”

“Thirty years ago, I was a kid in Missouri.”

“The thing is,” said Lamar, “she also hooked up with him nineteen and a half years ago.”

Delaware studied them. “That’s a precise time frame. You know because it was punctuated by a specific event.”

Baker looked at Lamar. Lamar nodded.

“Blessed event,” said Baker.

“Another kid,” said the psychologist. “One of the women Jack wondered about. She lives here?”

“Yes, sir. But for now, we’re asking you to respect confidentiality. Even though dead people don’t get any.”

“Of course. Boy or girl?”

“Boy.” They showed him Tristan’s picture.

He said, “Oh, man, he looks just like a young Jack.”