Rooted in Lies

by Kasia Chojecki

  "Nicely done. What else?"

  "Well, Henry then invested his profits into real estate, buying up properties at rock bottom prices. George, Elizabeth's father, continued the family tradition," Nick told her. "By the early 1970s, he amassed quite a portfolio. He owned several large parking lots in strategic parts of the city. They were eventually developed or sold off for a tidy profit that increased the family coffers. After trying his hand at development, George started the NorFast Group, the company his daughter Elizabeth is now in charge of."

  "Interesting," Ava said. "When did he marry Adams' mother?"

  "Well, George had three wives," Nick leaned back in his chair as he continued to read the info. "His first marriage ended in annulment, and not much info is available on the first Mrs. Notham. Wife number two, Victoria, gave him one daughter, Elizabeth. Victoria died in a car accident, and George married his third wife, Teresa, shortly after. He adopted her son, Adam, who at the time was almost eighteen."

  "Why adopt him?" Ava wondered. "I mean, adult adoptions are not unheard of, but they are less common." She leaned in to look at the screen. "It says here that the adoption was approved almost immediately after the wedding took place. Weird."

  "Well, that's one way of procuring yourself a son," Nick pointed out. When she gave him a look, he said, "Hey, I'm not against daughters, but some dudes, especially the old school ones, are all about that male heir."

  "Hmmm, I wonder how Elizabeth felt about the wedding and the adoption," Ava wondered. "You get a brand new mommy and a brother all in one."

  "Interestingly enough," Nick pointed out, "Adam didn't take on his stepfather's name."

  "What do we know about him?"

  "He has a degree in fine arts. This is probably why he ran the gallery where Sharon worked. He went into politics after the gallery closed in the late 1990s."

  They studied Adam's images on the screen. He was an attractive man with an air of importance. The charming smile made him appear approachable. He was well-liked, although his image leaned more towards a party-boy persona than a seasoned politician.

  Adam Walker left politics suddenly after an unsuccessful run for the mayor's office several years ago. There wasn't much in the news about him after that. While many politicians often shifted into consulting in the private sector or academia after giving up their political careers, there was nothing on record for Walker.

  "We need to find him."

  ***

  After days of digging relentlessly through files, reports and evidence, exhaustion started to set in. When Nick suggested they head out for a drink, she reluctantly agreed. One drink couldn't hurt.

  Now, as she sat across from him in the busy bar, she wondered what possessed her to agree. She felt like a fish out of water. Nick, on the other hand, looked right at home and seemed to know everyone. He made introductions and small talk with those that stopped by their table. Some lingered around longer than others, but generally, they all moved on.

  "So, is this where you normally hang out?" she asked, looking around. The place was busy and catered to a sophisticated crowd. She was glad she opted for a casual red wrap-around dress, strappy heels and minimal makeup. She didn't stick out as much as she would have in her yoga pants and tank top.

  "I sure do," Nick said as he leaned back in his chair and studied the two women at a nearby table.

  "Oh, don't let me cramp your style," she said, noticing where his gaze wandered. Men, they were all the same.

  "Jealous?" he said, focusing all of his attention on her.

  "Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed. "You're not my type."

  Nick leaned forward, folded his hands on the table and looked at her studiously.

  "What exactly is your type then?"

  Ava sloshed her wine in the glass. She wasn't going to play his games.

  "My type," she said. "Is none of your business. Just know that you're not it."

  "Awww," he said mockingly. "Now you've hurt my feelings."

  "As if."

  Nick watched her across the table and wondered why he asked her to come. He didn't mind the gig and was actually surprised at how much he enjoyed it. It was interesting to see the case progress, just as it was frustrating when it hit roadblocks. Ava wasn't the worst person he'd ever worked with, but she made it clear he was a means to an end.

  She had a great face, he thought. Maybe he could talk her into doing a photo session. When she wasn't so prickly and oblivious to the world around her. Come to think of it, she wasn't really his type either. He preferred his women to be less bossy.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a couple that suddenly appeared at their table. He had a friendly smile, straightforward manner and bore a remarkable resemblance to Nick. She was shorter, with a mass of blonde curls and undisguised curiosity in her blue eyes.

  "You must be Ava," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Odessa, and this is Steve."

  "I'm Nick's cousin," Steve explained as he shook her hand.

  Ava welcomed the unexpected company with curiosity. After short introductions, Odessa and Steve jumped into entertaining stories about Nick, who took their teasing in stride. They kept the conversation light and breezy. Ava was glad she decided to come out after all. Occasionally she caught Nick looking at her and rolling his eyes.

  "So, Ava," Odessa said. "Nick tells us you're a podcaster."

  "I am," she confirmed. "I have a true crime podcast called The Missing Voices. It focuses on finding missing people."

  "Why would you hire this guy?" Steve said as he nudged his cousin with his elbow. "Surely you could have found someone better."

  "You'd be surprised," Ava told him. "Besides, Nick is actually a good assistant."

  "Oh, come now, boss," Nick laughed. "I can't take all this praise. It's too much. True, but too much."

  They all laughed. Ava shook her head in mock disbelief. Maybe he wasn't as horrible as she thought he was. She enjoyed Odessa and Steve's company as well, thinking of how nice it was to have someone so close to you that you can always depend on.

  "Investigating cases must be so exciting," Odessa said with admiration. "Do you ever feel, I don't know, afraid?"

  "Afraid?"

  "Old cases, missing people. Poking in the past must make some people nervous. Aren't you scared that someone might not like what you find?"

  Ava contemplated the question. Occasionally she got odd messages but no threats. At least no so far. But before she had a chance to elaborate, Odessa suddenly stopped and stared at something behind them.

  "Don't look now," she said, grabbing Nick's arm across the table. "Nicole is here."

  There was a sudden change in the air. Ava felt like she was the only one who had no idea what was happening. She didn't have to wait long for Nicole to make herself present.

  Ava watched with amazement as she made her way to their table. She was dressed to kill in a tight black dress and five-inch heels. Her hair was long, her makeup flawless, and there was fury in her dark eyes. She was razor-focused on Nick, and it was clear she already had a few drinks in her.

  "So that's how it is," she snarled at him while slamming her hands on the table. "This is what you call working things out?"

  "Nicole," Nick said quietly, his eyes flat. "We've talked about this already."

  "Talked about it? You said you needed some time, and instead, you're hanging out with this basic bitch?" She eyed Ava with disgust. "Like what the fuck?"

  Before anyone could do anything, Nicole grabbed one of the glasses on the table, her nails flashing like sharp claws, and threw its contents in Nick's face. "You're gonna be sorry, asshole."

  Ava watched the exchange in fascination as Nicole turned to her. The commotion at their table had everyone staring. The music stopped, and as if on cue, two security guys appeared behind Nicole. They grabbed her just as two other women tried to talk her down. They dragged her out, kicking and screaming.

  Nick took the napkins Steve offered him and wiped his face. Their waitre
ss brought more napkins and helped mop up the mess. Not knowing what else to do, Ava laughed.

  "I'm sorry," she said, waving her hand. "I thought my exes were bad."

  That seemed to cut the tension. The music resumed, and people went on about their business.

  "In that case, let's get another round of drinks here," Steve said with relief. "I feel like we're going to need them."

  "I knew I like you, Ava," Odessa said as she leaned over. "I think you and I will get along just fine."

  ***

  Several hours later, Nick and Ava stumbled home. Grateful that the bar wasn't far from home, they took their time cutting through the neighbouring streets. The night was still warm, but you could feel the summer coming to an end.

  Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and walked beside her. This was the first time he saw Ava not focused on work or irritated with him. She was always so intense and consumed by finding justice. Her eyes were always so sad.

  Tonight he learned that she loved to dance and sang in the shower. That was essentially thanks to Odessa, who befriended her like he never could. Some part of him wanted to find out more about her. Another part told him to let it go. Their arrangement was temporary and strictly professional.

  "I'm really sorry about tonight," he said.

  "You mean Nicole?" she laughed. "Your taste in women is none of my business."

  "It's not that," he said, "Nicole has a habit of showing up and making a scene. Seeing me with you probably triggered her."

  "Oh please," Ava rolled her eyes, then stopped. "Hold on. I think I have a rock in my sandal."

  She stopped and looked around. Finding a bench, she walked over and sat down. Nick watched as she fumbled with her shoes. Since he didn't want her to think he was staring at her, he sat beside her on the bench.

  "Nicole and I broke up a while ago," he offered. "That's why I moved back home."

  "You really don't have to explain things to me. Many people move in with their parents. What's the big deal?"

  "It's a bit more complicated than that," he rubbed his jaw. "We were engaged."

  Ava looked at him with curiosity. "I see."

  "I couldn't go through with it," he said, staring into the distance.

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know."

  "Did you tell her that?"

  "I told her I needed more time," Nick sighed.

  That was six months ago. He told Nicole he needed some time to work things out and then moved out. She was furious and demanded he come to his senses. That was definitely not going to end to her liking. Nick was sure there was no future for him with Nicole.

  "That makes more sense now," Ava said. "I'm definitely not an expert on relationships, but it seems like you need to figure things out with her. But, your personal life is none of my business."

  She rose from the bench and started walking again. Nick got up and followed her.

  "Tell me how you really feel," he teased. "And here I thought we were becoming friends."

  "Did you now?"

  They laughed some more as they walked down the walkway that led to their respective homes. They stopped awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs that led to the porch.

  "Well, thanks for coming out," Nick said.

  "Thanks for inviting me out," she said. "I had a nice time."

  "So did I."

  They stood there in the moonlight. Something about the night, or maybe it was the alcohol, made him lean towards her.

  "Ah, what are you doing?" she asked, poking him in the chest.

  "What?"

  "What?"

  "Were you trying to kiss me?" he asked, his voice a little slurry.

  "In your dreams," she laughed. "Good night, Nick."

  She left him standing there as she strolled inside.

  Chapter 8

  The next day, Ava, Nick and Stan faced the garage filled with junk and layers of dust. Stan, his hands planted firmly on his hips, looked like an aging archeologist ready to discover buried treasure.

  "I think we should look at this the same way we look at an archeological dig," he told them. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Ava. It's very unbecoming."

  "Grandpa, this is a garage filled with junk. It's not an archeological site," she said.

  Stan looked at her with a smile.

  "Ah, but there are many similarities," he told her. "What do you think we find at most archeological sites? Old trash. That's what. Broken pottery, everyday objects and tools. Don't even get me started on the animal bones and human excrement."

  Ava groaned while Nick chuckled. This was going to be more fun than he expected.

  "I got the bins set up as you asked," Nick gestured to said bins lined up beside the garage. "Trash, keep and donate. Pretty standard."

  "Excellent," Stan pulled up the bandana hanging on his neck over his mouth and nose. He was like an excited child ready to hit the playground. "Let's do this."

  After removing a few of the oversized items in the front, they divided the garage into sections, each of them tackling a different one. Ava sorted through gardening tools in various shapes, broken pots and rusty tins. There were ropes, hoses and empty jars. So far, most of the things she found were trash. It was surprising how much of it accumulated over the years.

  As she dug through her section, not expecting to find anything useful. She was tired, slightly hungover and not in the mood to deal with Nicky's chirpy attitude. He tackled the opposite side of the garage, happily chatting with Stan about every item they came across. This was definitely a waste of time.

  "Would you look at this," Stan said as he pulled an old red and yellow tricycle from under some broken chairs and raised it like a prize to show Ava. "Your tricycle. I remember when you used to ride it up and down the street pretending you were driving a racing car."

  "Really now," Nick said with a smile. "And yet you still don't have a license."

  "Shut it," she said without looking at him. "I clearly had no idea about the wonders of public transit, and this convenient thing called a car service."

  "I remember it, just like it was yesterday," Stan said, ignoring them both. "You had all these ribbons tied to the handles because you thought they would help you fly."

  "If I was racing a car, why would I need ribbons to fly?" she said and gave Nick a look when he laughed.

  "That's the beauty of a child's imagination," he patted her on the shoulder. "There are no limits."

  Stan took the tricycle outside and set it by one of the bins. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and assessed their progress. Even a few hours in, they barely made a dent. There was still so much to go through.

  Nick came out and dumped more junk into the trash bin. He was sweaty and full of dust. There were so many other things he could be doing, yet here he was, helping out his cranky boss. He walked over to where Stan stood, staring inside the garage. He was the real reason Nick came over to help.

  "You should take a break, Stan. You look a bit flushed," Nick said. "Ava and I can do some more digging. Besides, we're not going to go through all of this in one day."

  "You're right, Nick," he said after a moment. He didn't want to pass on the opportunity to find more treasure, but he was exhausted. "I'm gonna go inside and rest for a bit."

  Nick reached for his water bottle and drank. There was so much dust in the garage, he could feel it all stick in his nose and throat. He couldn't wait to grab a shower and wash off the layer of dirt and grime he was currently covered with.

  Inside, Ava tugged at another box, trying to loosen it as she nudged it closer. She found a small plastic flower pot and used it as a stepstool. It gave her enough height to get a better grip on the box. She pulled again, just as Nick walked back inside the garage.

  Before he had a chance to say anything, the box suddenly shifted. Ava lost her balance as the flower pot cracked under her weight and sent her staggering backwards. He managed to catch her just as the box fell on them.

  "You okay?" he as
ked as dust went flying everywhere.

  "Yeah," she said between coughs. "What the hell was in that box?"

  The box tore open when it hit the floor. Ava reached inside to see what was in there. Inside were several tools and a metal case, similar in size to a toolbox. It was slightly beaten up, but overall it was in good shape.

  "What do you think this is?" she asked.

  "One way to find out," he said. "Open it."

  "It's locked."

  "Let me see," Nick took the box from her. "We can probably pick the lock."

  "Or," she suggested. "We can go inside and see if my grandfather has a key."

  Nick didn't argue, seeing this as a sign that they were done with rummaging for the day. They locked the garage and went inside to get Stan.

  "I've never seen this box before," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "It's definitely not mine. Should we crack it open?"

  They all stood around the table, eyeing the mystery box before them. After trying out different tools, they finally managed to pry it open with a screwdriver.

  "Holy shit," Ava whispered as she lifted the lid. "This is Sharon's stash."

  ***

  The box, once neatly organized, was in disarray. There was an envelope filled with film negatives, several floppy disks, a notebook, a couple of 35mm film rolls, and a small camera.

  "It's like a time capsule," Ava said in awe as she picked through the items. "Hey, Nick, do you know how to get these developed?"

  Nick picked up the old camera like it was a timeless classic. Then again, he never met a camera that didn't fascinate him. He wondered if he could talk Ava into letting him have the camera.

  "When I first got into photography," he said. "I was totally into experimenting with 35mm cameras. I spent days on end taking pictures and playing in the darkroom. I know a place where I can get these developed, and I know a way to see what's on those film strips."

  "Do you think we can get anything off them?" Stan asked. "After so many years, they are probably ruined."

  Nick held up several strips of the negatives against the light, then put them back in the envelope.