Turning Secrets Page 6

  “Parents of teenagers the world over would happily trade a day of your relationship for a month of theirs. My kids are only in their tweens and all of our lives are becoming unbearable already.”

  “Sons or daughters?”

  “Twins. Sara and Jack. They’re too young and goofy to befriend your Dawn, but maybe in a few years. They could teach her a thing or two about misbehaving. They live with their father when I’m working. He’s better with them now that he’s been forced to parent. He pretty much ignored them when I was there to change diapers and wipe noses.” Morrison struggled to open the lid of her coffee and slopped some onto her lap. “Merde. Good thing I’m wearing black pants.” She slurped the coffee and dabbed at her pants with the end of her jacket. She added, “Nadia began acting out when she became a teenager. Not all that unusual, I guess.”

  Kala thought about the timing. “The new peer group must have made her feel like she belonged. Kids are impressionable at that age, especially if they’re having trouble in school or at home.”

  She pulled into the outside lane and sped up to pass a trio of transport trucks hauling their loads cross country, the need to concentrate allowing her to distance herself from her thoughts. Driving normally soothed her, but today she couldn’t push down the anxiety that had flared up when she’d heard that Nadia had spent her first five years in foster care. Kala had her own memories of waking up calling for her mother, not understanding why she’d been taken away to live with strangers. The pain was in her even now, and she felt connected to Nadia in a way she couldn’t begin to explain. She could have ended up like Nadia if Roger hadn’t found her on the street in Sudbury and gotten her back on track. She hadn’t known that he was keeping track of her whereabouts after she left the rez to live in another foster home — one of many in a long string. He told her later that when her last foster parents told him she’d run away, he’d never felt such despair.

  “The turnoff is up ahead,” said Morrison. She had her phone out and was checking the map. “Beley Street is in a subdivision north of the 401.”

  Kala exited the highway and drove until she reached Centennial Road, which she followed east. Thick forest lined the left side of the road, with new builds carved out of the woods on the right. Morrison directed her into the subdivision, and a few minutes later, Kala pulled up in front of a two-storey red faux-brick house with a garage protruding like a snout onto a short driveway. Every house on the street was a similar style with little space between them and postage-stamp-sized front yards. Most of the trees were newly planted and it would be many years before they provided much shade. An older red Chevy Cavalier was parked in the driveway. It looked to have been recently repainted.

  Kala sidled up to the curb and shut off the engine. “You ready for this?” she asked, resting her arms on the steering wheel and turning to look at Morrison.

  “I’m your backup, so yeah, I’m ready if you are.”

  “The sister, Lorraine, appears to have been the one closest to Nadia, and I expect she’ll be in shock. Let’s hope she’s up to talking.”

  “She couldn’t possibly know less about Nadia than her parents did.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lorraine had the coffee on and she served them cups in the sunroom at the back of the house, a windowed add-on to the original structure; the floor was a step down from the kitchen. Kala didn’t need any more caffeine but accepted a mug to put Lorraine at ease. She watched Lorraine settle into the flowered cushions of the wicker couch and shifted on her own tufted cushion, trying to find a comfortable position. Morrison had taken a chair off to the side facing the bank of windows. A large spider plant hung dangerously close to her head but she appeared unfazed. Kala faced Lorraine and the inside wall but knew she wasn’t missing much of a view. On her way to sit down, she’d glanced out at the back of another row of houses with identical decks and bits of lawn.

  Lorraine looked, understandably, nothing like her adopted sister. Where Nadia was tall and slender, Lorraine was petite and — if Kala was any judge of height — topped out at five three. She had straight, shoulder-length hair the same shade as her hazel eyes, which now stared back at Kala. Pain and fatigue made her appear older than thirty-two.

  “We’re very sorry for the loss of your sister,” said Kala. “I understand she lived with you during her pregnancy. Can you tell us more about her?”

  “Nadia was finally getting her act together. She loved her baby and had cut free of all the garbage holding her down. I really thought she was going to make it.” Lorraine’s voice cracked and she stopped talking, fanning a hand in front of her face to give herself a moment. She croaked, “I’m sorry.”

  “Take your time,” said Kala. “I know how difficult this is.”

  Lorraine swiped away a tear and took a deep breath, exhaling before she spoke. “She lived with us for the last half of her pregnancy and until Hugo was two months old. I didn’t want them to leave but Nad thought it was time to stand on her own two feet and make a home for Hugo. She picked Kingston because it wasn’t too big and she could go to college once she got her high school certificate. She was taking online courses as a mature student, or at least that was her plan. What’s going to happen to Hugo now? I left a message with Children’s Services but nobody’s called me back.”

  “Do you know if Nadia had a will?”

  “Are you kidding me? Nadia wasn’t exactly in that headspace.” She smiled, either at the memory of her sister or at the thought of what she said next. “We’d like to adopt Hugo. Peter and I talked it over last night and we think it’s the right thing to do. He wanted to be here today, but he had to see about an emergency at his shop. He manages a Jiffy Lube.”

  Kala had been hoping that the family would take in Hugo. The alternative didn’t have a high success rate. “I’m sure you’ll provide a good home,” she said. “Hugo will need lots of love and support.”

  “We hadn’t planned to have another but I don’t like to think of Hugo with strangers.”

  “No.” What kid in the system was ever happy to be there? Living in a series of foster families. Belonging nowhere. Constantly grieving for the parents who gave you away. Kala took a second to rid her mind of memories of her own past. “Is Hugo’s father a possibility?”

  “Nadia didn’t name anybody on the birth certificate, so I’m guessing the father doesn’t even know he has a kid. I won’t spend any time looking for him, that’s for sure.”

  “She never said who he was?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can you name any of the people who Nadia hung around with?”

  “You mean before she came to live with us?”

  “Yes.”

  Lorraine shifted in her seat and looked past Kala out the window, seeming to stall for time. She took a few moments before focusing back on Kala. “A guy named Danny and his friends. There was a group of them. They were into getting stoned and drunk and not much else. I never met them, thank God. We were all relieved when she decided to come here and get away from them.”

  “Do you have Danny’s last name?”

  “She told me once, but I can’t remember now.”

  “And the others in the group?”

  “Sorry, nothing comes to mind.”

  Kala studied Lorraine to see if she was lying and thought that perhaps she was. Kala leaned in so that Lorraine couldn’t avoid looking directly into her eyes. “Look, I know that you don’t want us to think the worst of Nadia, but her past life in Ottawa and the people she associated with could have something to do with her death.”

  “But she’d broken away from them. She was living in Kingston and starting over.”

  “You can’t ever escape your past entirely. People can find you, and Ottawa is only a few hours from Kingston.”

  Lorraine looked past her out the window. She pushed out her jaw. “Peter and I are going to go see her body when he gets home. Mom and Dad aren’t up to it yet.”

  “There was damage in the fall from the
building. You need to know that so you can prepare yourself.”

  “I still want to see her. I know you’re checking dental records and DNA. Dad told me.”

  “How was Nadia supporting herself?”

  “Waitressing.” Lorraine’s eyes travelled back to Kala’s. “She only had her grade nine but she had dreams, Officer. She wasn’t a bad person, even if she’d screwed up for a while. A lot of kids do before they find their way.” She chewed on a fingernail before dropping both hands into her lap. “I can’t believe she’d kill herself. Not with Hugo and all her plans.”

  “We’re not judging Nadia or the life she led. Our only reason for asking these questions is to find out what caused her death.” Kala hesitated. “We’re considering the possibility that someone killed her.”

  Morrison looked up and Kala tried to reassure her with her eyes. She needed to get more out of Lorraine, who wasn’t going to talk if she believed her sister was under attack. Morrison dropped her head and continued writing in her notepad.

  “Do you honestly have reason to believe she was murdered?” Lorraine asked.

  “Yes. The day she died, she left Hugo with a downstairs neighbour and promised to pick him up in the morning. She was happy and she was a good mother. Hugo was healthy and well looked after.” Kala could see Lorraine’s shoulders relax and the tight line of her mouth loosen. Kala kept her voice neutral. “Was your sister involved in anything illegal? Say, prostitution or dealing drugs? We need to know, Lorraine, so that we can piece together her life at the end.”

  “No.” Lorraine shook her head back and forth. “No, she took drugs before she got pregnant, but she didn’t deal. She didn’t turn tricks either.” She pounded her fist into the seat cushion. “I would have known. I would have helped her.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about Nadia that might aid us with our enquiries? Did she leave any belongings when she moved away?”

  “No. She took everything with her, which wasn’t much. I’m sorry. Maybe after I’ve had a few days to digest that she’s dead … suicide was horrible enough, and now the idea that she might have been murdered … I’m having trouble thinking about anything right now. My head’s pounding from all the crying and I haven’t been able to keep any food down since I heard.”

  “Losing a sister is difficult, especially under these circumstances.” Kala chose her next words carefully. “We need to know where you and Peter were on Wednesday evening to get a full picture of everyone’s movements that day.”

  Lorraine’s body tensed again but she didn’t protest the obvious intent of the question. “Peter took our eldest daughter to her soccer game for seven o’clock. I was home working on a quilt and put Susie to bed at eight-thirty. Peter brought Katie home at nine and went to meet his friends at the pub, as he does every Wednesday. I fell asleep on the couch watching The National at ten. It was over when I woke up at eleven so I went to bed.”

  “Was Peter home when you woke up?”

  “He might have been in his workshop in the basement. I didn’t hear him come in but I was half out of it when I woke up.”

  “Thank you, Lorraine. You’ve been very helpful. We may have more questions later but we’ll leave it here for now. If you have any questions for us at any time, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll do my best to keep you informed when we have anything new to share.”

  “Did you catch the underlying anger when she spoke about her husband being at the pub? I swear there’s some tension going on in that marriage,” said Morrison, sliding into the passenger seat. “I know the signs.”

  “Oh yeah?” Kala glanced over at her. Against her better judgment, she asked, “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Let’s just say Allen and I had our ups and downs over the twelve years of wedded bliss. We’re separated at the moment, while he’s off finding himself. The search involves younger women, from what Sara tells me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Sometimes I am too. Other times, I’m happy not to have to see Allen’s gloomy face at my breakfast table.”

  Kala started driving back the way they’d come. “Run a search on the Jiffy Lube location.”

  “You plan to pay Peter a visit?”

  “I’d like to have a look at him. At the very least, we can get the names of his pub mates to confirm his whereabouts the night Nadia died.”

  “You have a mighty suspicious nature, you know that, Officer Stonechild? He is the victim’s brother-in-law, after all.”

  “The nearest and dearest are always the first place we look.”

  “I hate to say it, but after our last few cases, I’ve come around to the same suspicious way of thinking. I just wish it wasn’t so.”

  “Familiarity breeds murder.”

  Morrison looked up from her cellphone. “The Jiffy Lube is on Stewart Boulevard near the Home Depot. Let’s go see if this Peter fellow looks like a killer.”

  They met Peter Billings on his way out of the Jiffy Lube’s front door. “You’ll have to book an appointment for later in the week,” he said. “We’re full up today and tomorrow.” He pointed to the kid standing behind the counter. “Charlie can help you out.”

  Kala was closest to him. “Peter Billings?” He nodded, and she said, “We’re not here about a vehicle. I’m Officer Stonechild and this is Officer Morrison from the Kingston Police. We’d like to speak with you for a moment about Nadia.”

  Peter ran a hand through his greased hair. It was shaved close at the sides of his head but long and slicked back on top. “I was on my way to pick up my wife. We’re going to Kingston to see Nadia’s body.”

  Kala watched his eyes as he spoke. They remained steady on hers, dark brown and arresting. A girl would let him buy her a drink based on his eyes alone. “This won’t take a minute,” she said. “Is there somewhere private we can go?”

  “My office is in the back.”

  They followed him down a short hallway to a room that doubled as a storage space, glimpsing the activity in the double bays on their way past a large plate-glass window. Kala’s eyes fixed on the green bird tattooed on the back of his neck.

  He invited them to sit in the two chairs, pulling one out from behind his desk.

  “We’ll stand,” said Kala. She added, “This won’t take long.”

  Peter crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk. “So ask away.”

  “What can you tell us about Nadia?”

  “She was a troubled girl. Lorraine wanted to believe the best of her, but I wasn’t convinced she’d given up the rough life forever. She was good with the baby, though. I’ll give her that.”

  “Why did you think Nadia would return to that life?”

  “She was an addict. Sure, she’d stopped using, but she had that look, like she was restless and hungry. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Did she deal drugs?”

  “Not that I knew.”

  “How about turn tricks?”

  “No idea.”

  “Do you know anybody who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  Peter laughed. “She had some low-life friends in Ottawa. I’m not sure what any of them would be capable of, let’s put it that way.”

  “Do you have any names?”

  “Danny … somebody. She cut them off when she moved in with us. Lorraine insisted.”

  “Why did Nadia move to Kingston?”

  He took a moment to answer. “She said that she wanted to make a clean start in a new town, but I’ve got to say that I believe she sensed that we wanted her to leave.”

  “That’s not what your wife said.”

  “Oh?”

  “She told us that she wanted Nadia to stay longer.”

  “She’s having trouble with guilt now that Nadia’s dead. If we’d kept her living with us another year or so, she’d be alive — that’s how Lorraine’s mind is working. She chooses to forget how cramped we were and the sleepless nights with the baby crying and th
e lack of privacy. Nadia lived with us for eight months and didn’t pay us anything — not that we begrudged her that if it meant she got on her feet.”

  “Did you help Nadia move to Kingston?”

  “No, Lorraine drove her. It’s not all that far.”

  “Had Nadia already found a place to live before she moved out?”

  “Yeah, she found a cheap apartment online and met the landlord when she went to Kingston. I guess she struck a deal because her welfare cheque covered first and last month’s rent. He must have taken pity on her. She knew how to work people to get what she wanted.”

  Kala made a mental note to speak with the landlord. She could see Peter looking at his watch and over at the door. “One more question,” she said. “Where were you on Wednesday night?”

  “You can’t honestly suspect me?”

  “We need to know people’s movements. I’m asking everyone where they were so we can cross-reference later.”

  “I went to the pub with the boys like I do every Wednesday night. I got home late and Lorraine was sleeping in the living room. Our daughters were in bed asleep.”

  “Officer Morrison will take the names of your friends and the pub, and that will be all for now.” Kala motioned to Morrison and took out her cellphone. “I’ll be in the truck making a call.”

  Kala left the Jiffy Lube and got into her truck. She opened a text message from Dawn. She was going to tutor Emily after school and would be late getting home. And so will I, thought Kala while she texted a reply. The next message she opened came from Trevor Cavanaugh.

  Opioids and alcohol in Nadia’s system. Re-examined heart and found signs of heart attack. Moved from another location after death. Dead before the fall.

  Kala’s pulse quickened. She took a second to absorb his words, knowing now that her intuition hadn’t failed her. Nadia Armstrong had been dead before she was brought to the unfinished hotel and thrown from the seventh floor like a sack of garbage. Somebody else was involved in her death. The relief Kala felt at having correctly suspected foul play from the start fed into a gnawing sense of unease. Why would somebody go to all that trouble to make her death look like suicide? And the more pressing question: what had Nadia been doing that evening that had led to her death?