Skully, Perdition Games Page 15

  The entryway closed in on Sam. “I… I never had a brother,” she stuttered.

  Mrs. Shannon leaned against the doorframe. “Oh dear, I shouldn’t be saying all this. I’m sorry. It was such a shock to see you. You look so much like your dad.”

  Sam needed air. She grabbed her purse, mumbled something she hoped passed for goodbye, and bolted out the door.

  In the car, she struggled to calm down and think clearly. Reece had seen the name ‘McNamara’ in the property records, and Megan Shannon knew the names of her parents and sister. It was possible… But why would her parents lie and tell her they had always lived in Toronto? Why would they hide the tragedy of a deceased infant?

  If they had lived in London, her dad would have been with London Police Services. She could find out.

  Sam started the car and drove back to the 401. She spent the whole drive worrying about her family instead of the case. Did it matter if they had spent a few years in London without telling her? Maybe not, but it did matter that she didn’t know about her brother. She’d thought she and her father had shared a close relationship. His dishonesty stung.

  She was almost home before she was able to force herself to put her own problems aside and focus her attention on the case. There were more questions now than answers, and she needed to bring Reece up to speed. Isabella did exist, but she was dead.

  Had Gabriella believed her sister was alive, or had Derek created a ‘phantom Isabella’ to drive his wife insane?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sam

  DESPITE HER EFFORTS to focus on the case, Sam couldn’t stop replaying the end of her conversation with Mrs. Shannon. Instead of going home, she drove to the office. Reece had left the Norton Estate property records on his side of the partner desk. Her parents’ names were there. They had owned a house in Norton Estates from 1978 to 1991, meaning she was four when they returned to Toronto.

  Megan Shannon hadn’t lied about that, so Sam dug deeper. What she found turned her world upside down, and the shock was debilitating. She didn’t deal well with emotion and was fluctuating between rage and confusion over her father’s lies.

  Living in London wasn’t his only lie. He’d had bigger secrets.

  Being a suspicious person at heart, she wondered why Mrs. Shannon had hidden household pictures. What was it she hadn’t wanted her to see?

  In The London Free Press newspaper archives, she found an article from 1989 about Hugh Shannon’s suicide. He’d stepped in front of a freight train at a downtown railway crossing, leaving behind a wife and three boys. The youngest boy had been a month old.

  It took minimum effort to find photos of the three boys on Facebook. The two older ones weren’t too interesting but the youngest, Ryan, was a different story. He was completing a medical degree at Dalhousie University in Halifax. He was the spitting image of her father. Ryan could be her twin.

  What she didn’t find in the London or Toronto newspaper archives was an obituary for a Malcolm McNamara. She dug back as far as 1977, the year her parents married, but found nothing. Moving on to Canadian Vital Statistics, she searched birth certificates but there were no births registered to Colin and Grace McNamara in London.

  Recalling that Mrs. Shannon had said Grace went home to Toronto to give birth to her and Joyce, Sam changed her search parameters and found a birth certificate for a baby boy born in Toronto to Colin and Grace McNamara on February 10, 1979. She cross-referenced the date and found his death certificate. He’d died in London on March 20, 1979. The cause of death was sudden infant death syndrome.

  She had a deceased older brother that her family had never acknowledged. They hadn’t even honoured him with an obituary. He was born twenty months before her sister, Joyce, so eight years before Sam.

  It wasn’t too much of a stretch for Sam to understand why her mother pretended Malcolm never existed. Grace refused to discuss anything unpleasant, even if it was important. Born into an upper-class family in Bath, England, her mother had attended private boarding school from the age of eight. Raised to repress feelings, Grace believed expressing emotion was vulgar. As a child, if Sam cried out of disappointment or frustration, her mother sent her to her room. Negative thoughts were to be stifled behind a smile that was a lie.

  Around his wife, her father had been reserved but he’d been different in private. Sam believed he’d always been open and honest with her. Why would he have kept this a secret? How could Dad pretend his own son had never existed?

  Because he had a replacement son outside his marriage, Sam thought bitterly. Her father was a liar and a cheater. The shock made her knees weak.

  She’d contacted the London police for a copy of Isabella’s accident investigation, and Colin’s name was all over the incident report. Instead of being home with his family on New Year’s Day, he’d been in London with Megan Shannon and her baby. His baby.

  Anger was easier for her than sadness, and she punched the top of her desk. “You lying piece of shit!” She threw his picture from her desk. It smashed against the wall and the glass shattered. She retrieved it and hurled it in the wastebasket.

  Running her fingers through her short hair, she paced the office. She worshipped her father. He was the reason she’d entered Toronto Police Services. Worse, he was the reason she’d pursued a career as a private detective when she left the force. She slumped onto the chair, taking deep gulps of air. Everything she’d assumed about her father’s character was a lie.

  How did he even get away with it? Grace was a control freak who had kept her husband on a short leash. It made no sense. A tiny voice inside Sam’s head spoke up. Maybe Grace knew about his second family. Her stomach rolled.

  Steadying herself, she decided she needed to know for sure. There was one person who would know the truth. The whole truth. Sam swallowed hard and opened her laptop. In order for Dad to sneak out of Toronto on a regular basis, his ex-partner would have had to cover for him.

  Her fingers trembled when she opened her contacts, wondering if she’d kept the email address, and, if she had, if it was still active. After everything that happened, if Liam received an email from her, would he even answer? Wouldn’t he delete it and avoid the pain?

  Branded into her memory was the disappointment on her father’s face when everything had fallen apart so many years ago. Sitting in the chair across from him, she’d promised never to screw up again if he would forgive her and help her to make things right.

  He’d died in a car accident three years later, when she was twenty-one. The drunk driver of the other vehicle had insisted Colin had driven into the guardrail on purpose. Grace enjoyed reminding Sam at every opportunity that her father had chosen to commit suicide rather than live with the shame of what his daughter had forced him to do.

  She sat staring at the blank email body and the populated address field. The cursor flashed in the subject line, waiting for her to type out I need to ask a question. Then she could add her cell number to the body and press send.

  Did she have to tell Reece what she’d discovered about her dad? She needed to think about that. Professionally, it wasn’t pertinent to their case. He’d want to know as her boyfriend, but there was no way she could tell him this without opening up about her family. She couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t want to be with her if he knew the truth.

  For now, I’ll take a page from Mother’s book, she thought sourly. She’d go home to Reece and hide how upset she was. Her mother had taught her well how to repress feelings and pop on a fake smile.

  Under no circumstances could Reece find out about Liam. Reece, a cop through and through, would never understand what she’d forced her father to do.

  Sam wrote the email and pressed send.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sam

  WHEN SHE ARRIVED home depressed and exhausted, it was a relief to find the loft empty. Reece wasn’t there and she didn’t care where he was because she wanted to be alone. She carried Brandy upstairs, settling the dog under t
he covers before she lay down for a nap. When she woke, she felt ashamed of how emotional she’d been at the office.

  Emailing Liam was stupid. She always made horrible decisions when she acted impulsively and didn’t take time to analyse the risks unemotionally. Thank God, he was too far away to come to Toronto and confront her. No need to panic and overreact. After so many years, he’d most likely ignore an email from her.

  There wasn’t any reason to tell Reece what she’d discovered about her dad. She didn’t share Reece’s sentiment that you should talk about all your shitty personal history. She loved Reece, but the life they were building had nothing to do with the past. It was best to leave skeletons hidden in the closet.

  Her past was more complicated and shameful than most, but Reece didn’t need to find out. It wasn’t any of his business. She could update him on their case without mentioning her father. It didn’t matter if Colin was at the scene of Isabella’s accident over two decades ago. The point was that Isabella was dead. Gabriella wasn’t with her.

  It was time to put away her family drama and focus on her job.

  “You’re awake,” Reece remarked when she and Brandy strolled into the kitchen. He was at the stove, stirring something that smelled deliciously garlicky.

  “And starved. That smells amazing.” She sat at the table, which was already set.

  “You okay? It’s unlike you to nap.”

  She pasted a smile on her face. “Long drive. The air wasn’t working in the car,” she lied. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  He laid dishes on the table. “Awesome, give me a sec to grab the rice and let her rip.”

  While they ate, Sam debriefed him. “Isabella LeBlanc died on January 1, 1992. She was born in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, on July 20, 1980.” Sam filled him in on everything Mrs. Shannon said, minus the part about her father being there and her family living in London.

  “Geez, Derek’s a better liar than I thought.” Reece reached for the bowl of rice.

  She shrugged and sipped her wine. “I guess there’s a chance Gabriella was pretending her sister was still alive.”

  “I spoke to Derek’s business partner after my meeting with Belinski. Marty and his wife met Gabriella numerous times, and neither recalls her saying anything about a sister.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the shrimp scampi and rice pilaf while a City and Colour CD played in the background.

  “Any word from Canadian Customs?” She eyed the five shrimp sitting on his plate.

  He sighed, stabbed two, and put them on her plate. “Gabriella visited the US in April. She crossed from Sarnia, Ontario, over the Blue Water Bridge into Michigan.” Reece frowned. “Derek thinks she went shopping.”

  She put down her fork. “Why would she shop in Michigan? That’s twice as far as New York.”

  “Don’t know, but she spent two nights in a motel in Copper Harbor,” he said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s on Lake Superior in northern Michigan at the top of the Keweenaw Peninsula.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s over twelve hundred kilometres from Toronto, so it would have taken her about twelve hours to get there.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is the shopping extra special?”

  “No. It’s an outdoorsman’s dream come true. Great fishing, wildlife and hiking.”

  “Gabriella didn’t strike me as a tree hugger,” she said. “Were you able to talk to anyone at the motel? I don’t suppose they remembered her three months later.”

  “Oh, the manager remembered her, told me she was ‘hot’.” Reece winked. “Besides, she was travelling by herself off-season. They’re open year-round but don’t have much traffic on weekdays in April.”

  “What did he say?”

  “She didn’t make a reservation and arrived after ten p.m. on April 4th. The manager said she went straight to her room. The following morning, she went out around nine and didn’t come back until the evening. He tried to talk to her, said she was polite but not engaging. He figured she was there on business.”

  “Was she alone?”

  He nodded.

  She grabbed her phone and opened websites for Copper Harbor and the motel. “I don’t get it. What do you think she was doing there?”

  “No idea. Derek said Gabriella hated hiking and camping.”

  “The average temperature in April in that part of Michigan is a couple of degrees above freezing. Why would she drive over twelve hours to spend two nights in a remote nature resort on Lake Superior?”

  “I don’t know, but she took her dog,” Reece said. “She had to present the vaccine report at the border to get him across, which is why they had the motel’s address.” He got up and took their plates to the dishwasher.

  “The dog,” Sam shouted. “I can’t believe I forgot about the dog.” She kicked herself for losing focus. “Where is he?”

  “I was wondering the same thing. I figured at home, but Derek said no.”

  “That dog never left Gabriella’s side when we were at dinner. Derek made some nasty comments about him.” She pushed back her chair and patted her stomach. “I’m going to end up big as a house if you keep cooking like this.”

  “That’s my plan, making you fat and lazy so I’ll win our fitness bet.” He grinned at her. “You should prepare yourself. I’m confident you’ll be buying me dinner.”

  She laughed. “Dream on. Your ass is going down.”

  He sat at the table and leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, about the dog. Derek figured the police took it.”

  “That’s stupid. The cops wouldn’t take the dog.”

  “Well, we’ve found Isabella. Did you call Jim and tell him?”

  “Yeah. He says it opens up new questions about Gabriella. He wants us to keep digging into her life.”

  Reece nodded. “Okay, so we’re still on this. I left a message for the Copper Harbor Sheriff. Curious, I guess. But, now we know Isabella is dead, we should at least entertain Derek’s theory. Maybe Gabriella took the dog and framed her husband.”

  “Or,” Sam said with a sigh, “Derek killed the dog when he killed his wife.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s what Jim has in mind for us to focus our investigation on.”

  “I know. But, between us, unless we find someone who corroborates his story about Gabriella talking to her dead sister, I’m inclined to believe he might have.”

  Reece reached for his wine. “I’m curious to see discovery from the Crown. Her medical records should be in there, since Derek says she asked for the insurance policy because she found a breast lump. Maybe she saw a mental health professional after her sister died.”

  “Have you finished reading all the diary transcripts Jim’s assistant emailed?”

  He nodded. “Grisly stuff. What a miserable life, but that’s her interpretation of events. There are always two sides.” He polished off his wine, stood, and walked into the kitchen, standing with his back to her while he ran water into the large trough sink. “I followed up with the other companies Gabriella worked for over the past few years.”

  Sam got up and opened the dishwasher to load the rest of the dishes. “Anything of interest?”

  “She wasn’t popular. All the terminations cited personal conflicts.” He put a clean pot on the counter. “I can see how it would be tough to be around her a lot. She was an odd woman.” He grimaced.

  “I doubt all the problems were because of her personality. Gabriella was gorgeous.” She reached up and hung the dried pot on the hanger over the island. Convenient. She’d been horrified when he’d unpacked it a few weeks ago, but it was growing on her.

  “What do looks have to do with being disliked?” he asked.

  “I bet Jack made a pass that crashed and burned.”

  Reece chuckled. “I suppose, but we’re missing something. You know I feel sorry for her, stuck with Jack Belinski at the office and Derek at home.”

  She topped up her wine
glass. Reece never drank more than one glass so she corked the bottle and stowed it in the wine fridge, which she noticed he’d restocked. Not bad at all, this cohabitation thing. She took her wine to the sofa.

  “She picked both her husband and her job,” Sam said. “Often people choose to be unhappy.” She thought about her father and the choices he’d made. “If she was unhappy, she didn’t need to stay in the marriage.” She felt her face flush with anger and took a deep breath. She needed to concentrate on the case, not on her father’s lies.

  Reece sat beside her and rubbed the back of his neck. “By the way, the handwriting expert analyzed the card Derek claimed Isabella wrote. The handwriting doesn’t match the diary or the sample from Derek. The handwriting analysis does suggest a woman wrote the card. I also saw a sample of Gabriella’s handwriting from her job. I’m not an expert, but the writing looked the same as the diary. It didn’t look anything like the writing in the card.”

  “If Derek created Isabella to play mind games with his wife, would he go so far as to have someone pretend to be her? Maybe get a woman to call and write the cards?”

  “I suppose, but you’re forgetting about the phone records,” Reece reminded her. “There aren’t any rogue calls.”

  “Okay, maybe Derek stuck to written correspondence to psych out his wife and lied about Gabriella chatting on the phone,” she speculated.

  He studied her. “We’re working for Jim, Derek’s defence attorney. We’re not going to get that bonus if we don’t find something Jim can use toward acquittal.”

  “I know,” she agreed with a sigh. “Did you read that story in the paper yesterday?”

  He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Another reason we have to find something, anything.”

  The article was about Sam and nasty, suggesting her new partner distracted her. It hinted that the OPP had asked Reece to resign after the Uthisca events, going on to recap the deaths from her last case and suggesting she should turn in her licence. She’d be damned if she changed careers on anyone’s terms but her own. Besides, the five-thousand-dollar bonus would provide enough padding for her to finish her PhD. Then she’d have options. Reputation and money were riding on them finding something Jim could use.