Page 47 of Not a Word

“Family’s still here?”

Holden stepped in. “She had an older brother, but he died pretty young.”

Alicia looked surprised that he’d answered for her. “Yeah,” she concurred. “Waterskiing. On Pigeon Lake, near Bobcaygeon? Went right into a channel marker. Big metal buoy thing.”

I winced inwardly.

“Her family could be a fucking Greek tragedy,” Holden continued. “You lost your parents, what, one after the other?”

She shook her head, as though shedding unpleasant memories. “So, okay, two years before my brother died, when I was seventeen, my mom got cancer and passed and a year later my dad was killed on the 401 around Belleville when some guy fell asleep while driving his semi and plowed into him.”

“Geez,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t heard the worst of it,” Holden said.

Alicia looked annoyed. “Well, yeah. My aunt stepped up to look after me but she didn’t get to do it for very long because she was murdered.”

The table went silent. Gage stopped chewing his latest minidoughnut for a moment before swallowing. I didn’t know what to say. I actually could imagine that much tragedy befalling one person. When I was a kid, I’d had an eight-year-old friend whose parents and older sister were all killed in a plane crash. He’d been left with grandparents while his parents flew out west to bring his sister back from college.

The cards some people are dealt.

“I know, right?” Alicia said, grinning at her own tragic history, attempting to lighten the mood. “And they wonder how I ended up in rehab.”

What were the right questions to ask when someone told you that? I had at least three. How? Where? And did they catch who did it?

I asked the third one.

She nodded. “Yeah. But there’s none of that closure stuff they talk about. It was a long time ago. Even if you never get over it, you have to find a way to pretend you have.”

The time for chitchat seemed over. And Gage was making noises with his straw, trying to suck up the last of his drink.

“We should go,” I said to Gage.

It struck me that Holden was where he needed to be. Talking to someone else who’d been through some of the same shit he had. And as of today, even more, considering our father had died a violent—if self-inflicted—death.

Gage and I said our goodbyes and headed for home.

“Yikes,” said Gage. “She’s sure had lots of bad stuff happen to her.”

“No kidding,” I said. Then I asked, “Was there some kind of secret code going on between you and your uncle?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“When he was talking about secrets, he gave you a wink, like you were in on them too.”

“I think he just didn’t want me to eat all the doughnuts.”

I let it go. Along the way, I had Gage text Diana that we’d be home shortly, that my brother was fine, and then I called Mom to report the same, all things considered. Sober, having a coffee with a friend. She was still worried, but accepted my assessment, and said she would try to get some sleep at the Marriott.

It had been one hell of a day, but by midnight Gage was in his room with the light off and Diana and I were in bed, unsure of what the next day would bring.

I couldn’t say whether Holden and Alicia’s group session leader woke up screaming in the night.

But a little after three, Gage did.

Seventeen

Janice McCabe wasn’t supposed to be working this Saturday, but there were never any guarantees. The detective division was not large—one investigator who’d retired a couple of years ago had not been replaced—and two members of the team were off. Gord Langdon was on a camping trip up in Algonquin Park, where even if there were cell service, he’d have his phone off. If their chief complained later that she’d tried to get in touch, no signal would be his excuse. No fool Gord. And Skyler Marsden was taking the week because her mother had passed away.