by Kathi Daley
“Try the soup and salad special,” Tegan recommended as she took our orders. “The soup is pumpkin amaretto, which is to die for, and the salad is an autumn blend with pine nuts and cranberries. It comes with freshly baked bread.”
“It really is good,” Josie seconded.
“Okay, I’ll have that,” I said.
Everyone else agreed to the same suggestion.
“So tell me what you’ve managed to dig up,” Parker said once our iced teas had been delivered.
I started by filling Parker in on my conversation with Vanessa. I explained that the only way I could get the young woman to even consider talking to me was to agree to keep her name out of things and that Parker would only use the pieces of information provided by her if she approved of them.
Parker frowned. I could see that she wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement, but I could also see that she was resolved to the situation.
“But you did make it clear that I was still going to write a story of some sort, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I did. I said that you wouldn’t use any information provided by her in your story without her consent, but you are, of course, free to write about anything you’ve already managed to dig up.”
“Which is nothing,” she pointed out.
“True,” I acknowledged. “But maybe once you hear what Vanessa has to say, you can work something out with her.”
“So, do you really think this Vanessa is actually Hannah Hamish?” she asked.
I nodded. “I have reason to believe she might be, but to be honest, I don’t know that for a fact. I do have a strong inclination to believe that she knows a lot more than she’s shared so far. I just hope she calls back. She might not.”
The conversation paused as the bread and salads were delivered. Parker buttered a piece of the still hot bread and then picked up the conversational thread. “I guess if the only way Vanessa will speak to you is if I promise anonymity on her part, then I will agree to those terms. I’ll keep her name out of it, and I won’t print any information that she provides that I hadn’t already dug up on my own unless she agrees to let me print it.”
“Great.” I smiled. “I know this is a big ask, but the reality is that if you don’t agree, she won’t talk to me, and then we’ll never know if she really does know anything.”
“I agree, which is why I’m willing to make the deal.” She took a bite of her salad. She looked at Jemma. “Any luck finding any of the information we discussed?”
Jemma filled her in on the details of her searches, which she’d already filled Josie and me in on last night. After she’d gone over all that information, she added the fact that in her opinion, not only was there every indication that the Hamish family had simply taken off, but based on what she’d found, or rather didn’t find, it seemed as if they might have been running for a long time. Of course, this only made Parker even more interested in what Vanessa had to say. I really did hope she’d decide to trust us and call me back.
“So, how about your mystery?” Parker asked me when the subject of the Hamish family seemed to have been exhausted.
“I’ve actually found out a few things,” I answered. I then spent the next fifteen minutes bringing Parker up to date. Like the others, she was fascinated with the possibilities. I just hoped she wouldn’t decide to write about my mysterious past since I’d hate to ask her for a third time to keep everything we discussed off the record.
“I was able to find some information about Sherry Young’s accident,” Jemma jumped in when the conversation had worked its way around to the point where I shared the news I’d received from Uncle Gil.
“Oh, and what did you find?” I asked.
“As you’d been told, Sherry died in a single-car accident on December twenty-seventh, nineteen ninety-five. For reasons still unbeknownst to the investigator, she swerved from the road, hit a pole, and died at the scene. The accident occurred early in the morning. Around five a.m., according to the police report. No one came forward claiming to have witnessed the accident, so there’s really no way to tell why Ms. Young swerved, but there wasn’t any damage to the vehicle she was driving other than the damage to the front end caused by the accident, so it was never suspected that she might have been forcefully pushed off the road.”
“That doesn’t mean that another car might not have caused her to swerve,” I pointed out.
“No. It doesn’t mean that. There weren’t any skid marks left on the pavement before the car veered from the road, so the theories at the time were that she fell asleep and didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late, or she bent down to pick something up, or perhaps she was looking down to send a text and simply wandered from the pavement and lost control.”
“So, no one suspected foul play.” I verified.
“Not according to anything I found,” Jemma said. “I didn’t find any sort of report, police or otherwise, that mentioned your father finding you at the scene of the fire on the night he supposedly found you, either. There was a report filed by your father relating to the fire itself and to the subsequent arrest of the man your dad had been after in the first place, but nowhere in that report is finding a child mentioned.”
Okay, that was odd. Really odd. If finding me in the building was not included in the report, and I actually had been in the building as my dad had told me, then he’d intentionally left that out. Why would he do that? Unless, of course, he had something to hide as I was beginning to suspect.
“What about my adoption papers?” I asked.
“I haven’t found anything yet, but I’m still looking,” Jemma said.
“And you haven’t found anything relating to my situation as a child? Nothing with social services? No sort of report filed by Sherry Young?”
“Again, not yet,” Jemma said. “Sherry Young was off work when the incident occurred. Everyone was. In fact, I didn’t find a report of any sort filed by Ms. Young after December nineteenth. If she was going to file something about your dad finding you, I don’t think she ever got around to it.”
Which explained a lot, I realized. After Sherry died, my dad probably had seen an opportunity to simply keep me since no one even knew what had occurred or that he had me. It would also explain why he never mentioned finding me in the fire when he’d filed the report about the fire. Out of sight, out of mind. I still couldn’t reconcile the why in my mind, but I think I was beginning to understand the question of how a single cop had been allowed to adopt the three-year-old girl he’d found one Christmas Eve night.
Chapter 9
As it turned out, Vanessa called me back a lot sooner than I’d expected she would. She’d said she’d need a couple days to think things over, but the reality was it had barely been twenty-four hours since her previous call. I was sitting at my dining table, answering emails as I watched it rain, so I logged off and answered.
“Vanessa?”
“Yes, it’s me. Did you speak to Parker and the others?”
“I did.” I got up and crossed the room to the sofa. “They all agreed to keep anything you might tell me in confidence. Parker still plans to do a story about the disappearance of the Hamish family, but she agreed to keep your name out of it. If you provide any information she couldn’t have learned on her own, and you ask her to keep it out of the article, she will honor your request.”
“Okay.” She blew out a breath. “I guess I’ll need to trust you.”
“Before we begin, I want to remind you that no one is forcing you to speak to me if you’re uncomfortable with this.”
“I know. But I think you might be able to help me, and I realize that the only way I’m going to really be able to ask for the help I’m after is if I’m straight with you.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“I guess you’ve figured out by now that I’m Hannah.”
“We suspected as much,” I confirmed.
She paused, taking one last breath, which she seemed to hold for longer
than might be considered normal. “It all started about five years before the Thanksgiving when the family living in Gooseberry Bay went missing, which would make it ten years before now,” Vanessa began in a soft voice. She seemed to be struggling. I suspected she was working out exactly what she wanted to say as she said it. “My youngest sister had just turned one, and my parents had formally decided there wouldn’t be any new additions to the family, so Mom and Dad sat down and discussed their hopes and dreams for the future. To this point, Mom had always stayed home with us, and my dad had always worked two jobs to make ends meet.”
She paused again, and again, I quietly waited.
“My father had always wanted to go to law school, but with four children, there never seemed to be time or money to accommodate such a big dream,” she continued. “My mom decided that once my baby sister was old enough for daycare, she’d get a job, and my dad could quit his second job as a janitor at the largest law firm in Houston, which is where we lived at the time.”
I could hear something in the background. Paper rustling? I didn’t want to interrupt Vanessa’s flow now that she seemed to have gotten started, so I didn’t ask about it. When she still didn’t continue after a full minute, I decided to prompt her by asking what had happened after her mom and dad talked about him quitting his night job.
“It’s sort of a long story.”
“It’s okay. Take your time, and work it out as you go.”
“Okay,” she said before pausing again and then continuing. “I was only thirteen at the time, and there might be gaps in my story since I didn’t have access to all the details. Based on what I’ve been told over time, my dad had been working his regular night shift when he happened to hear the senior partner in the firm having a conversation with one of his clients. This particular client was not only very rich and well connected, but it was a well-known fact that the man had political aspirations. There was even talk of a run for president at some point in the very distant future.”
I didn’t ask who it was she was speaking about since I didn’t want to interrupt her just as she was getting started with her story, but I had to admit I was curious.
“Anyway,” she continued, “my dad decided to wait to clean the conference room until the men had finished their meeting but as he turned to walk away, he heard something that caused him to pause and listen. It seemed that this very prominent client had strayed from his marriage vows, and apparently, he’d managed to get his much younger mistress pregnant. Now, this particular client was well known in the area for his stance on family values, so my dad realized right away that if the conversation being held between the client and his attorney was made public, it would cause all sorts of problems for the man who wanted to one day live in the White House.”
“Wow, I can imagine,” I said. “What happened after that?”
“My father quite unwisely continued to listen in. The door to the conference room had been left open, so it was easy to hear what was being said without being seen since Dad stood just beyond the open door. Additionally, it was late in the evening, so the entire floor was empty other than these two men and my father. Obviously, no one was worried about my dad overhearing the conversation since no one had bothered to close the door. I’ve wondered about that over the years, but I guess it’s true what they say about janitors and waitresses. It’s like people just look right through them, never even noticing their presence as they go about their business.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed that as well. I waited tables for a while in high school, and there were several occasions when I’d come by to refill water glasses only to overhear details of extremely intimate conversations. Anyway, go on with your story.”
She began to speak. “As I said, my dad paused to listen, and what he heard ended up changing the entire trajectory of our lives.”
“Changing it, how?” I asked.
“Well, apparently, this very connected client was in a bit of trouble. It seemed that not only had the client found out that his pregnant mistress planned to cash in on the child she was carrying by asking for support, but I guess she’d also threatened to go public with the name of the baby’s father if he didn’t provide a bit extra to the compensation package.”
“So she was blackmailing him.”
“Basically.”
“So what did the client want? Was he looking for financial advice?”
“No. Not financial advice. It gets a bit more complicated.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“Based on what my father overheard, it sounded like the client had confronted this woman about her apparent blackmail scheme, and in the course of discussing his options with her, he’d ended up killing her.”
I gasped. “Killing?”
“I don’t think it was planned. Like I said, I was only thirteen, so I wasn’t privy to every detail, but I did overhear my mom and my dad talking at one point, and based on what I could put together, it sounded as if this very rich wannabe politician knew that he’d be ruined if word of his love child was leaked.”
“Well, sure. Especially if his platform was based on family values. But to kill the woman? That seems like a bit of an overreaction.”
“I don’t think he meant to kill her. It sounded as if the client got mad and pushed the woman, and she hit her head.
I closed my eyes, stifling a groan. I was pretty sure I knew exactly where this story was going.
“The client admitted that he freaked out and went a little crazy. The woman had been knocked out after her fall, but at that point, she was very much alive. Apparently, the client was terrified of being found out and decided to ensure that the woman was unable to tell her story, so he strangled her while she was unconscious.”
It was at this point that a tiny gasp escaped my closed lips.
“Ainsley?”
“I’m here,” I said. “And I’m listening. Go on.”
“Anyway, based on what I’ve managed to find out, the wannabe politician panicked and hid the body. At that point, no one knew the woman was dead or even missing. The senior partner in the law firm, who was apparently also the man’s friend, agreed to help him clean up his mess so that no one would ever know what happened. When the men got up from the table where they’d been talking, my dad skedaddled, so he wasn’t entirely certain what came next. But then a week later, the woman’s body was found in a shallow grave, and a week after that, the woman’s boyfriend was arrested for murder. The cops just assumed the baby was his and that the two had fought, and during the course of that fight, he’d killed her.”
“Of course, your dad knew the truth,” I said.
“He did. He felt bad for the boyfriend, so he decided to look around to see if he could find any sort of proof that might back up the truth, as he knew it. Without proof, he knew that if he came forward, it would simply be his word against the word of two very wealthy and well-connected men in the community. Being a janitor, he had access to all the offices, and he was often alone at night, although he didn’t have access to computers and file cabinets. Still, he figured he’d look around and hope to catch a break.”
“And did he find what he was looking for?” I asked.
“Yes, he eventually found a tape recording the senior partner had made when he’d met with his client on that first night in the conference room.”
“He kept a tape?”
“My dad said he kept a tape of all his conversations. Insurance, I guess, or maybe he wanted to have a way to recheck what was said after the fact.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense. So, how did your dad get ahold of the tape?”
“Apparently, this senior partner was working late on the same night that my dad was on the floor cleaning. My dad avoided his office, deciding to wait until he left to clean, but he did check back from time to time to see if the coast was clear. One of those times when he checked back, he noticed that the door was open, but the office was empty. He figured the man had gone to the men’s room or maybe to the bre
akroom for coffee or a cigarette. Anyway, my dad was about to move on with plans to return later to empty trash and clean up when he noticed that one of the file cabinets had been left open. It was at this point that he slipped in and quickly took a look for a file with the name of the client he’d overheard that first night.”
“Seems gutsy.”
“Or crazy,” Vanessa countered. “Anyway, my dad found the file he was looking for, and inside the file was a small cassette tape. My dad unwisely took it and then quickly left. He finished his shift and then went home.”
“What did he do with the tape?” I asked.
“Nothing at first. I don’t think he was quite sure what to do with it. No one seemed to know it was missing. I suppose by this point, the senior partner’s client had probably figured he’d gotten away with murder, so the heat was off. The boyfriend of the dead woman was in jail awaiting trial for murder. If I had to guess, no one knew my dad had taken the tape because no one had gone looking for it to even know that it was missing.”
“But I’m sensing this changed.”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “My dad didn’t want to bring attention to himself, but he didn’t want the boyfriend to spend his life in prison for a murder he didn’t commit, either, so he had the idea to send the tape to a journalist known in the area for publishing these type of exposés. My dad copied the tape and then sent the original to this journalist anonymously. The journalist took some time to dig into things, but eventually, the journalist printed the story, and the whole mess was brought to light. The problem was that somehow, someone must have figured out who’d leaked the news in the first place because a few weeks after the story ran, there was an attempt made on my father’s life.”
“What sort of attempt?”
“He was shot in the back while walking to his car in the parking garage near his day job. He obviously didn’t die, but he could have. It was at that point that my parents decided to run.”