"At the beginning," he said and opened Sharon's file. "Sharon was reported missing by her parents on October 24, 1995. The Novaks, your grandparents, last saw their daughter four days earlier before they left with you for the cottage."
"Sounds about right," Ava agreed. She absently reached for the pendant on her necklace as if to connect to the past. "My parents recently divorced, and I moved in with my mother to my grandparents' home. I just turned five."
"It says here that your mother worked at a gallery, Studio 416," Tyler continued to read the file. "Her boss was a man named Adam Walker. Does that name ring a bell for you?"
"I've never met him," Ava said. "I just know the name from the reports."
"By all accounts," he continued, "Sharon was well-liked by everyone. Friends and coworkers spoke highly of her, but nobody could provide any clues as to what could have happened to her."
"I guess not everyone liked her," Ava said. "Otherwise, she wouldn't have ended up dead. Can you tell me how she died?"
There was no nice way to say it, so he just told her the truth. "She was shot. Judging by the bullet hole in her skull, someone wanted to make sure she stayed dead."
"Can I see the report?" she asked. When he didn't respond, Ava decided to try a different approach. "Look, maybe I can help. Finding missing people is what I do. I've worked with other police departments. There is no reason we can't do the same. I can give you references if you don't want to take my word for it."
Tyler considered her offer. He did some checking into Ava Reed already. She was an advocate for families with missing loved ones and became a true-crime podcaster. Not a massive stretch in his mind. He listened to a few episodes of The Missing Voices out of curiosity and found her approach thorough and unbiased.
"Look, I can get these reports one way or another," she said when he didn't answer. "But it would save a lot of time if you just gave them to me. I'm family. This is about my mother. I can help."
"I haven't said no, Ms Reed. Ava," he corrected when she opened her mouth to speak. "I don't have a problem working with you. In fact, I think that's a great idea."
"You do?"
"That surprises you?"
"Well, not everyone does."
"I like solving cases," he said. "And when it comes to the ones that have been lying on the shelf for decades, I'll take any help I can get."
"Then we have a deal," Ava smiled, pleased at the outcome. "I would like to speak to the original detective on Sharon's case," she said. "I haven't been able to locate him. Is that something you can get for me?"
"I should be able to get that," Tyler agreed. "Talking directly to Sharon's daughter might jog his memory. I'll also get you any reports that I can. Anything else?"
"I'd like to see where she was found."
"I can arrange that."
***
Nick got home late Saturday afternoon. He spent most of the morning on a photo shoot with a client. It was another hot day, and he was exhausted. His parents let him stay with them while he sorted out his living situation. Still, he really missed having his own space where he could keep all of his equipment permanently organized.
Nick figured he had enough time to shower and grab some food at The Acropolis before diving into today's footage. At this rate, he could leave the full edit for tomorrow after a quick call with the client first thing in the morning.
He unloaded the equipment in his makeshift office then jumped in the shower. There was nothing better than a cold one on a hot day like today. He let the water run over him, and when he started to feel human again, he turned off the tap and grabbed a towel. Ten minutes later, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and on his way to the restaurant.
His parents' home sat on one of the streets that ran perpendicular to the Danforth and was a short walk from the restaurant. The street had big old trees on both sides of the road and was surprisingly quiet considering how busy the neighbourhood often got. Here children played outside, and dogs barked in excitement. Nick waved to neighbours in acknowledgement as they watered their gardens. Not much has changed since he was a kid.
The Acropolis was packed when he arrived, but everything seemed under control. Nick grabbed the bags with food and left before anyone stopped him to chat. He wasn't picky about the offerings, but today the bags seemed unusually heavy. His aunt gave him several dishes from a mixed-up takeout order the customer no longer wanted. This meant he had food for days. There was no way he was going to eat it all himself.
As he's done many times before, Nick walked over next door and rang the doorbell, trying to balance the bags as he did so. After Sharon was found, Nick kept his neighbour company more often, and the two developed a friendship of sorts.
But it wasn't Mr. Novak that answered the door.
She was taller than most women, but it wasn't the height that gave him pause. Her hair was jet black and carelessly pulled back with thick, long bangs that played peek-a-boo with a pair of sharp blue eyes. She had a striking face, high cheekbones and a piercing gaze that seemed to look right through him. She didn't seem overly friendly.
"We didn't order takeout," she said curtly, as one eyebrow shot up and disappeared somewhere underneath those bangs. "You got the wrong house."
"Whoa, wait a minute," he said before she slammed the door in his face. "I'm Nick. Nick from next door?" He added as if that clarified things.
She blinked, but before she had a chance to respond, Mr. Novak appeared at the door. Relieved, Nick shifted his gaze to him.
"Hey, Mr. Novak, I got loads of takeout from the restaurant and thought you might want to have some," he flashed a smile as he lifted the bags to show him. "Still hot."
"Yes, yes. Come, come in," Stan waved him in. "Nick, you remember my granddaughter Ava?"
"Sure do. How is it going?"
Ava didn't look impressed, nor did she answer. Left with little choice in the matter, she moved out of the doorway to make room for him. As he slithered by her, she was pretty sure she saw him wink at her. Then he paused, deliberately and just for a moment, in front of her. With barely any space between them, she was forced to look up. Her breath caught a little as he looked down at her. She had a sudden urge to punch him in that perfect nose.
She made a noncommittal sound and followed them inside. As much as Ava hated to admit it, she was starting to feel hungry. Interviewing useless candidates zapped all her energy, and she couldn't face any more of them today. The takeout smelled amazing, so she opted to focus on that instead.
In the kitchen, Stan grabbed plates for the table as Nick opened the bags of food. Utensils, napkins and containers of food took up the whole surface. She unpacked different kinds of meats, salads, rice and dips. He was right, there was enough food to feed an army, and it smelled like heaven.
"Ava," Stan waved an empty glass at her as he set it down on the table. "Why don't you grab us some beers from the fridge and whatever you're having."
She wasn't picky, and since there was enough beer for all of them, she grabbed three bottles and set them on the table. From her seat, she was able to keep an eye on her grandfather and Nick as they chatted.
"You know, Nick," Stand said with pride. "Ava is a podcaster."
"You don't say," Nick said between bites. "That's really a thing?"
"Imagine that," she said, her eyes blazing at him like a sea during a storm. "So what do you do, Nick? Nick next door."
"I'm a photographer and a videographer," he said evenly. "You know, photoshoots, commercials, videos. Anything that involves a camera. I also have a YouTube channel where I do photography tutorials."
"You're a YouTuber?" she smirked." Is that even a thing?"
"It pays the bills."
Oh, how she wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. She knew men like him. They walked around like they owned the world and expected all women to swoon at their feet. As if. She was sick of slimy guys like him.
Who was he kidding with that scruffy I-just-woke-up-and-got-out-of-sh
ower look? Was this a thing now? He probably spent hours in front of a mirror making sure his hair was perfectly tousled. Also, that designer stubble wasn't fooling anyone.
"You know, Ava," Stan said as he piled more potatoes on his plate. "Nick is quite good. You should check out his work. I think you'd like it."
Ava made a noncommittal sound while she continued to watch Nick as he casually shovelled food in his mouth. She tried to make out the tattoo details that started somewhere under the sleeve of his t-shirt and wound around his arm to his wrist.
"What's with the ink?" she asked.
"Ava," Stan chastised. "Don't be rude to our guest."
"It's fine, Mr. Novak," Nick watched her across the table. When she wasn't busy piling chicken souvlaki on her plate and burying it under a stack of tomatoes, she seemed almost pleasant, less hostile. He lifted the sleeve with his free hand to show her the rest.
"Call it artistic expression," he told her, then glanced at Stan, who winked at him.
Ava wasn't above acknowledging good work when she saw it. Greek warriors, gods and goddesses and mythical beasts set against light bolts, clouds and flowing robes wrapped around his arm. Whoever did the work was very good.
"Were you always such an artistic guy?"
"Not always," he said as he pulled the sleeve down and got back to eating. "I used to have a boring office job that paid the bills."
She let it go as they continued with the meal. Nick seemed totally at ease here, and for some reason, that didn't sit well with her. But she had better things to deal with than an annoying neighbour.
Chapter 4
Ava got off the streetcar by the Distillery District and walked over to where Burnett was already waiting for her. Together they walked over to meet with Sam Ellis, the site's supervisor, where Sharon's body was found. The crime scene tape was long gone, but some of the makeshift memorial near the west side of the fence remained.
"People keep leaving stuff there," Sam said when he saw Ava looking in the direction of the memorial. "We tried to leave it there for as long as we could, Miss. But the suits at the HQ were getting antsy, so we took most of it down."
"That's okay," Ava smiled. "I understand. I just didn't expect all these strangers, most of whom never knew her, to show up just like that with flowers and messages."
"It's human nature," Tyler said. "We are all social creatures. There is comfort in uniting with strangers over tragic events, even if there is no connection to the victim. Often it's not so much about the victim but the victim's family. People express their grief and pain more so for the benefit of the family rather than themselves."
"That is true." Sam nodded as he led them inside the gates. "I think the box with all the cards and notes is still in my office," he told her. "We had to dump the flowers, but I can give you the rest if you like."
"That would be great. I appreciate it, Mr. Ellis."
Sam left them to do their thing as he walked back to the trailer to find the box for the daughter. From what he heard on TV, she was just a little kid when the mother went missing. Sometimes life threw some shitty curveballs, he thought, shaking his head.
"Do you think the killer could have been here too?" Ava asked when they were alone. "Maybe he even left something with all the stuff everyone else did?"
"Hard to say," Tyler folded his arms across his chest. "If he or she is still alive and in the area, chances are they were here at some point."
Since the police released the scene, the construction resumed with full force. The area where Sharon's remains were found would soon be dug up to make space for the foundations.
Outside the construction site, life went on as usual. The neighbourhood was busy with cars, pedestrians, dog walkers and people heading to the Distillery District. Couples strolled hand in hand, food delivery couriers zipped by on their bikes with the latest orders, and parents watched their kids play.
The area had a very different vibe in the 1990s when Sharon went missing. What was she doing here?
"The weekend Sharon went missing, she was supposed to meet some friends," he said and gestured west. "There were a few nightclubs not far from here. The friends said they were going to meet her there, but she never showed up. They, the friends, never thought much of it as that wasn't unusual. They assumed something came up."
"She was supposed to come with us to the cottage," Ava said. "I don't remember it, but that's what my grandparents said. She stayed behind, but they didn't know why."
"Perhaps to meet with her killer?" Tyler wondered. "That would mean she knew him or her. Makes sense. Maybe she had something the killer wanted, or they thought she did. She either didn't actually have it or refused to give it up."
That was the sticky point in the whole investigation. After Sharon went missing, over three million dollars disappeared as well. Her employer never filed a report, but the investigation used that as their primary lead. They claimed she embezzled the money over time, and when she had enough, she took off for places unknown.
"That could play with the theory that she found something she wasn't supposed to." Ava's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Or maybe she wanted something, and the killer wouldn't give it to her," Tyler suggested.
"Like what?"
"Money," he said simply. "Maybe Sharon was blackmailing someone that didn't take kindly to extortion. We shouldn't make the assumption that she found something she was going to expose her killer with. It's possible that she used what she found for blackmail."
Ava didn't like the idea, but it definitely was a possibility. Sharon didn't tell anyone what she found, nor did she express concern over possessing sensitive information. Was she capable of blackmail? That was anyone's guess.
"Did anyone ever find the money?" she said after a few moments. "If she stole money or blackmailed someone, there would be a trail."
"There is always a trail," Tyler said, "but we haven't found it yet. If Sharon was as good as they say she was, she covered her tracks well."
"Do you really think Sharon stole the three million?"
"It doesn't really matter what I think. The facts do. Evidence." Tyler told her truthfully. "Which we have very little of. Today, it's difficult to trace any accounts that far back."
"Did they not do a forensic audit when she went missing?" Ava asked. She was still waiting for copies of the police reports that Burnett promised her.
"It doesn't look like it," he said. "There is no money trail."
"You know, my grandfather believes that she was straight as an arrow," she told him. "According to him, she couldn't have stolen the money. I doubt he'd think she was capable of blackmail."
"I think parents always want to see the best in their children. Do you think he's wrong?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But based on what every person has told me about her, Sharon was a meticulous planner. Yet, I haven't found a single piece of evidence or anything she could have hidden. Don't blackmailers keep meticulous records?"
"Makes it easier to keep track if you want to get paid," Tyler said.
***
Ava needed to think. She got dressed, grabbed her headphones and headed outside. The heat hadn't yet set in this early in the morning, so she decided to take full advantage of her run before it got too hot. The streets were quiet, but the neighbourhood was waking up.
People rushed to the subway while others jumped in their cars, trying to beat the traffic. She passed dog walkers, other runners and parents watching over their kids while drinking their morning coffee. The everyday rhythm of the city never really changed that much.
On the Danforth, shopkeepers set up their stores as maintenance crews swept the streets. She passed a delivery truck and turned the music up. Once she made it across the busy street, she increased her pace.
The visit to the site where they found Sharon's remains didn't offer any new clues. She still wasn't totally convinced that Detective Burnett would solve the case, but he seemed solid enough. Ava didn
't expect him to agree to her help, but since he did, she now had more information to dig into.
As she ran the parameter of Withrow Park, Ava felt some of the frustration melt away. This case was personal for her, but it didn't mean that she couldn't treat it the same way she did with every other case.
Ava thought of the boxes Sam Elliot gave her and the documents Detective Burnett was sending her way. There was a lot of information to go through. Maybe she really did need an assistant. A fresh set of eyes couldn't hurt either. Unfortunately, she was finding it impossible to find a suitable candidate.
She needed someone right away. It would be great to get someone who had a car and could drive her when she needed to leave town. Maybe she would ask Lori to prioritize applicants who lived in Toronto, or at least somewhere within a short driving distance. Hopefully, they could at least get a temp.
Energized by the newfound clarity, she made her way home just as the heat started to kick in. What she really wanted was a shower, then she would contact Lori about the assistant.
She found Nick lounging casually on the porch steps that connected his parents' house with her grandfather's. Today he wore black shorts and a sleeveless shirt and looked as if just got back from the gym.
Ava rolled her eyes. Over the last few days, she noticed him around. He didn't come over again, but that didn't mean he avoided her. She saw him outside or chatting with her grandfather. Always loitering around. Here was a man with clearly too much time on his hands. Shouldn't he be doing his videos or something?
She accepted his odd friendship with her grandfather, although she was still wary of their connection. As long as he kept her grandfather company, he couldn't be that bad. Stan, after all, had a good head on his shoulders and was no fool when it came to people trying to take advantage of him.
Nick watched her walk up the shared walkway between the houses. She seemed surprised to see him, and in a small way, that gave him some satisfaction. Flushed and sweaty with her hair pulled back in a messy knot, Ava looked as if she had quite the run. She also looked annoyed.
Rooted in Lies Page 4