"Look, it's possible she uncovered something she wasn't supposed to," Tyler said. "There are patterns, initials and dates. Lots of money flowing back and forth. Sharon noted which accounts showed large transfers. Some had question marks beside some, exclamation points by others."
"You said two sets of books," Ava said. "Does that mean she was the one fixing the accounts? Could she have been funnelling the money from different accounts for her personal use?"
"It definitely would have been very easy for her to keep two sets of books without anyone knowing," Tyler said. "Sharon was either a clever embezzler, a blackmailer or a whistleblower that discovered something she shouldn't have."
"Does that bring us any closer to finding answers?"
"It gives us new avenues to tug on," Tyler said. "But there is something else."
Tyler grabbed one of the files on his desk and took out the report he wanted to show her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"The forensics lab finally came through," he explained. "Whoever broke in and attacked Stan left his DNA behind. We ran it through our data system and got a match. Does the name Anthony Lowell mean anything to you?"
"I don't think so," Ava said, trying to jog her memory. "Do you have a picture?"
Tyler opened the folder and took out the photograph, and placed it in front of her.
Ava stared at the man in the photograph. She'd seen this face before. But where?
"I have seen this picture before," she said slowly as the memory came back. "When I was leaving Halifax, there was a story about a man whose body was fished out of the Halifax harbour. I'm pretty sure this was the man."
"Are you sure?" Tyler's pulse quickened.
"Yes, but how could he have broken into the house when he's been dead for over a decade?"
"The man we're looking for is Anthony Lowell's son," Tyler said. "The only problem is that Anthony Lowell never existed before he was found in the harbour."
"Do you think he could have killed Sharon?" Ava asked. "Did someone kill him?"
"According to the reports from the Halifax police. Anthony Lowell, or whoever he was, most likely ended up in the water accidentally," he told her. "The car slid off the road and plunged into the icy waters where he sat on the bottom of the Harbour for a few years before amateur scuba divers found him.
"That sure changes things, "Ava said. "Can I have a copy of that picture? I have an idea."
***
While Nick searched for the elusive Anthony Lowell and his connection to Sharon, Ava shifted her focus to the upcoming season of The Missing Voices. The following season would feature several cases in and around Calgary before they moved on to Colorado.
Now, she was on a call with Lori and Beth Draker, an investigative reporter working in Calgary who would provide local perspective for the new season of the podcast.
Beth was a short woman with a big personality who knew how to sniff out a story. Lori has been in contact with her for some time as they worked on selecting stories to feature. As a crime beat reporter, Beth was their go-to source for information on the ground, and she jumped at the opportunity to keep these stories on the minds of as many people as she could.
"I want you to know that it wasn't easy for me to select cases for your podcast," Beth said as they worked out their game plan. "There are too many families out there with missing loved ones, and they all deserve answers."
She tucked a piece of her dark hair behind her ear and tapped her pen on the desk. "I've worked with several outlets in the past to help amplify these stories with mixed results. Some people are just more interested in sensationalizing them for their own entertainment rather than telling the stories."
"We're not like that," Ava said. She really liked Beth and her dedication to the cases she covered. "We're here to tell those stories hoping they will bring some answers for the families. I know the pain they feel. I know what it's like to live in limbo, looking for answers."
"I know, and that's why I am very excited to work with you," Beth said. "I've been listening to your podcast for some time now, and I'm familiar with your mom's case. I'm sorry that she's not coming back."
"Thank you," Ava said.
"Did finding her make things easier for you to deal with what happened?"
"Not really. I hoped it would, but..." Ava paused as if trying to find the right words." "When they are missing, you have hope. It's a long shot, but there is a part of you that hopes they will one day walk through that door. Then when you find out that they are not coming back, it's like losing them all over again. It rips you apart. I don't know what's worse. Believing that my mother stole money and left me or the fact that she's been dead all this time and I've spent most of my life hating her."
She thought about it while the other two women sat in silence.
"You know, I don't remember her," Ava told them, momentarily lost in thought as she played with her pendant. "She's a total stranger. Growing up, I was so angry with her for leaving. I wanted to find her just so I could tell her how much I hated her. Then I found out she never left."
"You don't have to talk about it," Beth told her.
"No, it's fine," Ava said. "I am not angry with her anymore. I just want to find out who did this. The person who took her away from me and stole my memories."
"I really hope you do," Beth said and looked from Ava to Lori and back. "I'm sure you've probably already thought about this, but this could be a great topic for a whole season of The Missing Voices."
"Oh, we've already talked about this," Lori said with a smile. "Many people want to hear the story, so we'll definitely look at Sharon's case in detail."
"Hopefully, you'll get more answers soon," Beth said sincerely. "I'm sure you're doing a lot of work on this already. All right, back to why we're here."
After several minutes, Ava agreed. Beth was right—there were too many families still looking for answers. More often than not, they never got them. Every case was always a battle between fascination and outrage. Not all victims were treated with equal respect. How many cases went unsolved because someone didn't deem them worthy enough to investigate? Too many. Time went by, evidence was lost, and the victims were forgotten. This part always pissed Ava off.
That's why she always tried to focus on the things that could make a difference. Ava loved puzzles. Trying to figure out the missing pieces was always the most intriguing part. The clues left behind didn't always make sense, especially when you looked at them individually. But pushed together, they formed a picture. Sometimes it was too vague to make sense. Other times, there were too many clues that distracted instead of providing clarity.
They went over evidence, mapped out suitable locations and drafted the storylines. They re-read available statements, scheduled appointments to interview families and investigators. They meticulously compiled pictures, social profiles, and other information about the victims they could get their hands on for each case. The older cases were always more complex as not all families had many pictures of their loved ones. Often those pictures were the only memories they had left.
Ava's thoughts went to the picture of Sharon sitting on her desk. The 1995 Sharon would forever be ingrained in her mind, no matter how old she got. The world moved on, yet she stayed the same. Over the years, she saw so many pictures of the missing and the dead. Every one of them, frozen in time. How many of them never made their way home?
Chapter 15
Solving cases was sometimes like making wine. First, you had to plant the vines and wait for the grapes to grow before you could even start harvesting them. Yes, the wine-making process was a long one, entirely dependent on the elements and experience. And patience.
Tyler was a patient man. In his line of work, he had to be. Murder was never easy, but solving the cold ones was even more challenging. Lucky for him, he liked a challenge, and he had a knack for sticking his nose in places he shouldn't have.
Once he knew where to find Adam Walker, he managed to arrange a
visit. While the administrators at Breezy Oaks didn't take kindly to his request, they couldn't deny him either. Whether they like it or not, Adam Walker was part of an investigation into the murder of Sharon Novak, his former employee.
The visit was arranged with a condition. He could interview Walker with his caregiver, Nurse Dubner, present to monitor the patient's health. As they sat in the large games room, Tyler could hardly believe that the man before him was the same Adam Walker. The man seemingly disappeared from public view over a decade ago. He was almost unrecognizable.
"Hello, Mr. Walker," he started. "My name is Detective Tyler Burnett."
Adam looked at him with a surprisingly clear gaze. Nurse Dubner watching him like a hawk. Tyler wasn't sure he was going to get anywhere.
"You can call me Adam," he said slowly and looked into the distance.
"Thank you for seeing me," Tyler continued. "I'm here because I'm investigating the murder of Sharon Novak. Can you help me, Adam?"
"Sharon," he said absently. "Beautiful, clever Sharon."
"She worked for you. Do you remember her?"
"One doesn't forget someone like Sharon," he smiled absently. "So smart."
"What else can you tell me about her?" Tyler asked, keeping his voice steady.
"Sharon," Adam repeated her name. "She's like a breath of fresh air."
"Adam," Tyler said again, trying to get him to focus. "Sharon found something she shouldn't have. Didn't she?"
Adam looked over, startled. Tyler wasn't sure if he pushed too hard.
"I told her to let it go," he said, looking away again. "She didn't listen. I begged her to stop."
"Stop what?"
"She's going to be mad," Adam's voice was almost a whisper. "She's going to hurt me. I don't want her to hurt me."
"It's okay, Adam," Tyler said gently. "I won't let her hurt you."
There was silence again. Tyler debated how much further he could push him before he went too far.
"Sharon," Adam said again, looking over at Tyler. "I saw her here. She was here."
"Sharon is dead," Tyler said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Someone hurt Sharon, Adam. Do you know who hurt her?"
"But I saw her," he insisted. "Sharon was here. Her hair was different, but it was her. I know it was her." He stared into the distance. "She was here. I saw her."
"Adam," Tyler said. "Look at me."
Adam Walker, the man who once wielded tremendous power and had the world at his feet, looked at him like a petulant child being scolded for pinching some candy. His pale eyes, trying to focus.
"Sharon is dead. Someone killed her," Tyler said. "The woman you saw was her daughter."
"Her daughter?" he asked with confusion in his eyes.
"Yes, Sharon's daughter, Ava," Tyler said. "She wants to know who killed her mother, Adam. Do you know who hurt Sharon?"
Adam nodded but refused to say anything else. Tears suddenly appeared in his eyes.
"Sharon," he said again. "Beautiful, clever Sharon."
Adam started to repeat himself. He alternated between staring into the distance and trying not to cry.
"Adam," Tyler said again. "Tell me who killed Sharon?"
"I'm sorry," Adam whispered. "I told her to let it go."
Adam started to cry softly, and Tyler rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"That's enough, Detective," the nurse told him. "You're upsetting him"
"I need to show him something," Tyler said. "It'll be just a moment."
He placed the picture of Anthony Lowell in front of Adam's face.
"Do you recognize this man?" he asked.
There was a flash of recognition followed by another one that looked like fear.
"Where did you get this?" he whispered.
"It doesn't matter," Tyler said. "Tell me about him. The man in the picture."
Adam's mouth moved, but no sounds came out. He kept staring at the photo, his face filled with panic. Suddenly he reached for Tyler's arm. Gripped it.
"You have to find Sharon," he said in a raspy whisper. "Tell her to stop. Stop looking," he swallowed hard, his eyes wide. "Sharon. SHARON."
"That's enough. You need to leave," she ordered, then called for assistance.
***
As Tyler was escorted out of the building, Adam Walker was taken back to his room and given sedatives to calm him down. As Adam was staring out the window, he didn't notice a man disguised as one of the staff slip into his room.
The man closed the door and walked up to Adam's bed.
"What are you doing here?" Adam shrieked, his eyes wide.
"Shut up, old man," the voice was low and sharp, the eyes cold and cruel. "You never learn, do you?"
"Please, don't hurt me," he said.
"I said shut up. You were supposed to keep your fucking mouth shut."
"But she was here," he trembled. "Sharon was here."
"That stupid bitch has been dead for the last two decades. Don't you remember?" he laughed. "She's dead because of you."
"No," Adam's eyes tried to focus. "That can't be right. I saw her."
"Sharon Novak is dead," the man's eyes went cold. "And now, it's your turn."
Adam's eyes darted toward the emergency button in his room as he reached out to signal for help. But he was too slow. The panic that filled him now shook his whole body. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The man slapped him hard. Before he knew what was happening, there was darkness around him. He couldn't breathe. As Adam fought for his life, his killer pressed the pillow over his face.
He held it there until Adam's body finally went limp. For good measure, he held it there for another moment before removing it from the lifeless body.
He tucked the pillow under the dead man's head as if it's always been there. For good measure, he searched the room for anything that shouldn't be there. He searched the drawers on the side table and in the closet. A quick search through the pockets didn't reveal anything useful.
Not finding anything incriminating, he left Adam in his bed as he slipped out of the room. Before he closed the door behind him, Adam's killer gave him one more disgusted look. Why couldn't people just do what they were told?
The killer was familiar with the layout of the building and the many passages reserved for staff to seamlessly move around without disturbing the patients. Disguised as one of them, he made his way out of the building. Nobody stopped him, nor did they ask any questions. It was almost too easy.
It wouldn't be long before Adam's body was discovered. He smiled as he imagined the panicked nurses running down the hallway, wondering what had happened. They wouldn't be able to help him, no matter how hard they tried. It was too late.
He made his way into one of the nearby buildings, where he changed back into his clothes. Dressed in black, his hair covered by a dark ball cap, he walked out and didn't stop. When he was a safe distance away, he pulled out the phone and dialled a familiar number.
"It's done," he said and then disappeared into the trees.
It didn't take long before Adam's body was found by his nurse, who raised the alarm. The police were notified right after, and so was Detective Burnett.
While Tyler played the scene in his head repeatedly, wondering if he could have gotten more out of Adam if pushed, he got the call from Breezy Oaks. He turned his car around and drove back.
He definitely didn't anticipate this turn of events.
***
"I got you something," Nick said as he handed Ava a small white bag. He shoved his hands in his pockets as she took the bag from him.
"You got me a gift?" she said, surprised. "Wait, are you getting sweet on me now?"
"If I was sweet on you, you'd know," he said with a suggestive look. "Just open it.
She took out a small box, about the size of her palm. Inside was a small white object, about a square inch in size. It was smooth on one side and decorated with a spiral swirl across the other. A small, silver loop topped one of the e
dges.
"You got me a keychain?" Ava asked as she took it out of the box and examined it. It looked delicate but felt quite sturdy to the touch. She ran her finger over the smooth surface and realized the loop was actually a clip.
"It's not a keychain," Nick said impatiently. "It's like a personal safety alert device. You clip it on your key, clothes, jewellery, purse, whatever. I figured it was small enough so that you can attach it to many different things. Most women have all kinds of things like that, so I figured you do too."
"Aww, Nick, you got me a panic button?" she smiled. "You are sweet on me."
For a brief moment, he actually looked embarrassed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"How does it work?"
"You have to download the app and create an account," he explained. "It has several options where you can enter up to three emergency contacts. You press the button once if you feel unsafe, and it alerts them to call you. If you press and hold, it connects to the monitoring system that alerts the police. Check the instructions. You'll figure it out."
"Thank you," she said. "That's very thoughtful."
"Yeah, well," he said and sat down at the desk. "I figured you could use one since you always seem to get into dangerous situations. Now, can we move on?"
Ava put the button back in the box and set it on the desk. She would set it up later.
"Sure, did you find anything new?"
"I did some more research on Studio 416," Nick said. "I had to go through a lot of sites to find something useful. The gallery was established by George Elliot Northam, Elizabeth's father, to support local artists and promote artistic expression. It was largely funded by the NorFast Group."
"Interesting," Ava said as she looked at the screen over Nick's shoulder. "I thought it was common for large companies to support various non-profits."
"Support, yes," he said. "But Studio 416 was only funded by the NorFast Group. There were donors and wealthy clients, but NorFast was the main backer behind it."
"Perhaps George started the gallery to give his stepson something to do. Why not and get in a few nice tax breaks while at it?"
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