My Sister's Keeper

by Brenda Chapman

  My Sister’s Keeper

  Brenda Chapman

  Copyright © 2013 Brenda Chapman

  First published in 2013 by Grass Roots Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Grass Roots Press gratefully acknowledges the financial support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Government of Alberta through the Alberta Foundation for the Arts.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication (Print)

  Chapman, Brenda, 1955-, author

  My sister’s keeper / Brenda Chapman.

  (Anna Sweet mysteries)

  ISBN 978-1-77153-004-0 (pbk.)

  I. Title. II. Series: Chapman, Brenda, 1955- . Anna Sweet mysteries.

  PS8605.H36M9 2013 C813’.6 C2013-902836-6

  Dedicated with love to the memory of my dad, John Chapman

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was the middle of a steamy August night in Kermit, Texas, and my bedside phone was ringing. I’d worked the late shift in the Dude Bar below my hotel room, and was only just falling asleep. I felt around for the phone with my right hand, knocking an empty beer bottle onto the floor. I picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “You are one hard person to get a hold of,” my father yelled into my ear.

  “Dad? Is that you?”

  I propped myself up on an elbow. I’d been in Kermit a month and hadn’t gotten around to letting him know. I tried to shake off the sick feeling that came from working too many late nights.

  “Of course it’s me. Your sister’s had an accident. She’s in the hospital.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but I could hear worry underneath.

  “Cheri?”

  “That’s what I said. Your sister. Lucky she wasn’t killed.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, aside from a goose egg on her forehead and bad nerves.”

  I was sitting on the side of the bed now. I’d forgotten to close the curtains and the red neon sign from the parking lot flashed into my eyes.

  “What . . . happened?”

  “Brakes failed on her car yesterday on her way home from work. Cheri drove into a tree and got banged up good. She’s been asking for you.”

  Cheri had to be in really bad shape if she wanted to speak to me. “I could give her a ring tomorrow,” I said.

  “She’s waiting for your call now. Get a pen and paper.”

  He’d made the command with his drill sergeant voice. A voice trained by thirty-five years in the armed forces. He rattled off Cheri’s phone number at the hospital. I copied it onto a napkin like an army private in his command.

  Dad hung up before I could ask how he was doing. As usual, he hadn’t asked me either.

  *********

  Cheri picked up on the first ring, in her hospital room somewhere in Ottawa. She whispered into the phone. I could barely hear her.

  “Speak up, Cheri. It’s not like the FBI is listening in.”

  “I need to see you,” she said. Her voice was just slightly louder.

  My eyes travelled around my hotel room: stained red carpet, patched holes in the walls, particle board furniture. The smell of cooking grease and stale booze seeped up from the bar below. One month in this oil town felt like forever. I still wasn’t sure how I’d ended up here.

  “I have lots going on right now,” I said. “It’ll be hard to pull myself away.”

  Cheri didn’t say anything for about twenty seconds. This time when she spoke, I didn’t have to strain to hear her.

  “Anna, you’re the only one I can trust. You have to come home as soon as you can.” Her voice dropped. “Somebody is trying to kill me. Please, Anna, you have to get on the next plane to Ottawa. If not, I’ll be dead by Christmas.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dad was waiting for me in the luggage claim area when I got off the plane. It was noon—just nine hours after my phone call to Cheri. I spotted him leaning against a wall, his eyes searching the crowd. His thick hair had gone completely white, but his sharp blue eyes hadn’t lost their brightness. I crossed to where he was standing and stopped in front of him—the man who’d driven me crazy my entire life.

  “How did you know what time I’d arrive?” I asked.

  “I got here early and watched a few flights come in. You had to be on one before long.”

  “Well, thanks for coming.”

  “I could say the same.”

  I picked up my bags and we started for the parking garage. Dad pointed to a shiny red Ford truck. “My new baby,” he said. His eyes sparkled. Some men loved women. My dad loved trucks.

  He glanced over at me as we walked. “So what’s so great in Kermit, Texas?” he asked.

  “It’s just a place. I liked the name.”

  He frowned. “You’re what, thirty-two now, Anna? You’re getting too old for this drifting around, slacking-off nonsense.”

  Welcome home.

  “I’ll have you know I’m gifted at serving beer. Plus I get to spend quality time in towns like Kermit, Texas.”

  “You know what I think about that.”

  “It would be hard not to,” I replied.

  We got into the truck and Dad drove out of the lot onto the parkway. The sun was beating down on the windshield. No clouds could be seen in the clear blue sky. We were halfway to the city when Dad said, “Your sister isn’t herself these days.”

  And that’s a bad thing? “What’s going on?”

  “She’s always been high strung. Lately, she’s gotten nutty. She thinks somebody’s out to get her.”

  “What about her accident?”

  He shrugged. “Accidents happen. Brakes fail all the time.”

  “Jimmy must be worried.”

  Dad shot me a sideways look. “He appears to be.”

  “Aren’t we going to their house in Manotick?”

  “Your sister refuses to leave the hospital with anyone but you. I’m going home. You can take the truck to get her.”

  “This truck?” I looked at him to see if he was joking. Dad never used to let anyone drive his truck—and this one was brand new.

  “I got another one just like it at home.”

  I sat quietly for a minute. Dad turned onto his street in the south end and I saw our family home halfway down. I’d been away for five years.

  “It’s good to see you, Dad.” I said.

  Dad nodded once and turned his face away. But not before I saw a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cheri was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, her long blonde hair loose around her pale face. An angry purple and black bruise spread from a lump on her forehead. She was sitting in a chair at the foot of her hospital bed, staring at nothing, when I walked into the room. It took her a few seconds to notice me.

  “Anna,” she said. She opened her arms.

  I walked over to her and reached down
to give her a hug. I was shocked by the changes in her appearance, even though it had been five years since I’d last seen her. Her skin was dry and her eyes were listless. Even her hair had lost its shine.

  I pulled over another chair and sat close to her.

  “What’s going on, Cheri?” I asked.

  “Sometimes, I think I’m losing my mind.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “I can’t sleep. Crazy things have been happening to me. I’m so scared.”

  “Where is Jimmy? Shouldn’t he be here with you?”

  The tears began to slide in twin rivers down her cheeks. “Jimmy moved out two months ago. We were fighting all the time. He had to take Evan because I’m such a mess.”

  Their five-year-old son, Evan—I’d seen him once as a newborn. The news of Cheri and Jimmy’s marriage troubles might have given me pleasure once, but not now.

  “Dad could have driven you home.”

  “Dad doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m making it all up, and I can’t . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  “Are you still working?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m on stress leave. I was going to be made partner in the law firm, but now... I’ll be lucky if they keep me on.”

  So whatever was wrong with her had been going on for a while. Cheri had always liked drama but never to this degree. I slapped my knees with both hands and stood up.

  “Let’s get you home and settled before someone shows up with a needle and a bedpan.” I used the same cheery voice to clear drunks out of the bar at closing time.

  I helped Cheri to her feet. She leaned against me and we started for the door.

  I thought about how she was lucky to only have suffered a bump and a headache when her car hit that tree. “We’ll get through this,” I said to her. Even though I hadn’t wanted to come home, I added, “Whatever you need, I’m here until we sort it out.”

  Cheri pulled me back and made me face her. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away more tears.

  “For what?”

  “For picking Jimmy over you. You won’t believe how many times I’ve wanted to say that to you. You deserved better from both of us.”

  I stood stock still. I’d die for my sister, but she’d strained our bond to breaking many times. Jimmy had been the biggest betrayal along a string of others since our childhood.

  “It’s okay,” I said, happy to realize I meant it. “I’ve moved on. Let’s agree to just put the whole thing behind us.”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  I knew she meant the words when she said them. I also knew our truce wouldn’t last long. It never did, but I hoped our newfound closeness would be enough to carry us through whatever nastiness was to come.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We smelled something rotting as soon as we stepped inside the house. I turned to Cheri, who was following me like a shadow.

  “Your power must have been off. You could have a fridge full of ruined food.”

  “Whatever is causing that smell is disgusting. Phew.”

  I looked around Cheri and Jimmy’s house. It was an older bungalow on a two-acre lot in Manotick, a village a half-hour outside the city. Oak floors and cream-coloured walls made for a warm front hall. Cheri had always liked the finer things in life. I spotted expensive-looking paintings and leather furniture on our way to the kitchen.

  Cheri crossed to the fridge and opened the door. She turned to look at me. Her face made it clear she was puzzled. “That’s odd. The food in the fridge is fine.” She checked the garbage under the sink. “Nothing here either.”

  A shiver travelled up my spine, even though it was warm in the kitchen. Maybe it wasn’t rotting food that we were smelling. “I could use some tea,” I said. I sent her a shaky smile. “Why don’t you make a pot while I go to the washroom?”

  “If you like.”

  I made my way down the hall, checking each room as I went. The guest bedroom looked fine and the bathroom was clean. That brought me to the master bedroom. The smell was getting stronger. The door was half shut. I slowly pushed it open. My breath caught in my throat.

  The bloody carcass of a small animal lay squarely in the middle of Cheri’s bed. White maggots crawled all over its rotting flesh. The duvet cover was stained dark red. I forced down my breakfast, then slammed the door and leaned against it. I tried to still my pounding heart.

  Cheri appeared at the end of the hallway, holding two different packages of tea. “Would you like mint or . . .”

  She stopped talking and looked at me. Her pale face got even whiter.

  I took a step toward her. “I think we should call the police,” I said calmly. “Somebody has left a dead animal on your bed. By what’s left of its fur, I’d say a raccoon. Likely roadkill.”

  Cheri’s eyes got wide and her mouth opened in a silent scream. I almost reached her before she slid into a heap on the floor. I crouched down next to Cheri and checked her pulse. It was beating like a sledge hammer.

  She came to quickly. When she looked up at me, her eyes were panicked. She grabbed my shirt and pulled my face close to hers.

  “We can’t call the police,” she begged. “Jimmy will know. All the cops look after each other. You know that.”

  “It might not be Jimmy doing this.” Not the Jimmy I remembered.

  “He’s the only one with a key to the house.”

  “Then, we’ll prove it’s him.”

  “Not if his cop friends get involved. Promise me you won’t call them.”

  I tried to calm Cheri down but she got even more upset. Finally, I agreed to keep the dead raccoon a secret, against my better judgement.

  “I’m going to get the locks changed while you have a nap in the spare room,” I said. “I’ll get rid of the dead animal right after I find a locksmith. It means a drive to the nearest mall to find a dumpster. But the smell is only going to ripen, and you’ll thank me later.” I wondered how long I could hold my breath. “I sure hope you own a full can of air freshener,” I said. “And a full bottle of Scotch would come in handy too, for when I get back.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I bagged the raccoon and bedding and opened all the windows. After dumping the bag in the garage, I sat at Cheri’s kitchen table thinking about Jimmy Wilson. We’d met at the Orillia police academy almost twelve years ago. I was attracted to his wide smile, curly black hair, and Irish charm. Jimmy was the kind of guy who lit up a room and worked it like a movie star. I felt like the luckiest girl alive when he zoomed in on me.

  Four years after we started dating, Jimmy asked me to marry him. We’d both gotten jobs on the Ottawa force and we’d put a down payment on a house in Sandy Hill. I was twenty-four and head over heels for him. That loving feeling died, however, when he slept with my twenty-two-year-old sister, Cheri. I was working a night shift. Cheri was visiting for the weekend.

  For three years after their wedding, I avoided my fiancé turned brother-in-law while we worked in the same unit on the Ottawa force. I always made sure Cheri and Jimmy weren’t at my father’s before I went to visit. I stopped dating altogether.

  Footsteps in the hallway pulled me back into the present. Cheri had climbed out of bed and was crossing to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she joined me at the kitchen table. She looked terrible, and had spidery red lines criss-crossing the side of her face she’d pressed into the pillow.

  I pushed a notepad and pen in front of her. “I’ll make coffee, and you write down everyone in your life: names, relationship to you, possible motive. We have to treat this like a real investigation.”

  “Even if Jimmy is the only suspect?”

  “Even if.”

  She lifted the pen and began writing. Her other hand cupped her chin, her elbow resting on the table. I made the coffee strong and sweet. I set cups on the table and sat next to her.

  “Have you defended any unhappy clients?” I asked.

  “I defended a nineteen-year-old for dealing drugs. He’s serving eight years. His father was an
gry and said I should pay for not getting him off.”

  “What’s the father’s name?”

  “Gavin Long. He used to belong to a biker gang.”

  “Lovely. Write him down.” I looked at the list. “There are six people in your law office?”

  “Yes. The owner Bob Cahill, me, and two newer lawyers, Hannah Jones and Roger Little. We have one legal assistant named Janet Chan and an office manager, Betty Zimmer.”

  “And you were being made partner?”

  “Yes. I earned it too.” Her jaw jutted out. It was a defiant look I knew only too well. “I worked long hours and took on tough cases. Our firm is doing very well. We plan to move to a bigger office in a few weeks. We’re holding interviews for two more junior lawyers.”

  “What about affairs? Are you or Jimmy involved in one?”

  Cheri lifted her big blue eyes to mine. We both knew what I was thinking. Both of them were capable. “I’m not,” she said. “But Jimmy could be. I think that’s one of the reasons he moved out.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “No.”

  I made some notes next to the names she’d written down. I was quite certain her doctor, dentist, hairdresser, and manicurist were not out to kill her, but I would check them out too. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” I asked.

  Cheri nodded. “I started getting phone calls in the middle of the night right after Jimmy left. At first they hung up without saying anything. Then, they’d tell me my life was going to end soon. I also started getting emails at work that said awful things, like Evan and Jimmy were better off without me. I began thinking I was being followed. Sometimes, things were moved around in my office or at home. I thought I was losing my mind.”

  “When they phoned, was it a man or woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell. I’d be half asleep and they spoke so low.”

  “What about the emails—did you get a return address?”

  “They were from a Gmail account with no name. I printed the emails and filed them away at work. Then I deleted them. They made me sick. One said that if I told anyone, Evan would disappear.”