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“They were just passing though Canberra on their way to drive to Sydney. It was completely random that Mum ran into them in a café.”
“Mmm hmm,” Lacey encouraged, touching his knee as if to give him support. He suddenly recognized he wanted that support, and so grabbed her hand and held it on his thigh, appreciating the warmth spreading from her palm and slowly up to his stomach and chest, soothing some of the ache that’d settled there.
“This couple didn’t know that Serge had died. Mum never contacted them after the funeral, and I’m not even sure she knew where they’d moved to. Anyway, when Mum told them of his death, they were completely shocked, and asked when it’d happened. As she told the story, they became more and more agitated, until Marco finally blurted that they’d seen Serge a few years ago, in the little town on the Victorian coast they’re now living in, called Lorne, and he couldn’t possibly have died seventeen years ago.”
Lacey covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes never left his face. Even now, as he was speaking the words, he almost couldn’t believe them.
“Mum didn’t believe them at first, tried to laugh it off, saying they must’ve mistaken someone else for Dad. But Marco was absolutely positive it was Serge. Of course, he was a lot older and grayer, but Marco said they chatted for at least ten minutes, mainly about what Marco and Priscilla had been up to.”
“And they’re one hundred percent sure it was your father?” Lacey asked, her hand leaving her mouth, index finger tapping on her chin instead.
“That’s what Mum says. They said they even have a photo of him somewhere. Said they could send it to her if she liked, when they got back home. Priscilla took it of him and Marco standing together. The other man didn’t know she’d taken the photo, she sort of snapped it as they were saying their goodbyes. As a memento for Marco.” Nico was loath to callthat manSerge. It couldn’t be his father. Alive and walking around Lorne less than three years ago. It just couldn’t be. There must be some other explanation. But a small part of him believed Marco. The man was ex-military, observant and quick-witted, with a blunt manner. If he said he saw something, then he probably did.
“There has to be a valid explanation,” Lacey said as if parroting his thoughts. “I mean… I’m guessing there was a body found in that car wreck?”
Nico nodded glumly. There’d definitely been a body in the coffin; his mother had asked to view it before the funeral, needing closure, even though the sight must’ve been horrific. But a charred body wouldn’t have had any defining features left. Catarina wouldn’t truly have known if it were Serge or not.
“And I’m guessing the body was identified somehow. With DNA evidence, or a dental record?”
This time he shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was too young at the time to even know to ask those questions. And I don’t think my mum did either.”
“So… They might’ve buried the body without formally identifying it?”
Nico merely shrugged again. The process was slightly different in every state, and had also been different when Serge died over seventeen years ago. If the coroner was happy that there was no question it’d been Serge in that car, then he may not have called for an autopsy. He may just have released the body to the grieving family and let that be the end of the story.
“But, why…?” Lacey was just as lost for answers as he was.
Why? If it had been his father in Lorne that day, then why? Why would he fake his own death? Why would he desert his young family? Let them think they’d lost a father and a husband?
Other questions also clamored for answers. Such aswhoandhow. If it wasn’t Serge in the car, then who was it? And if it was someone else, how had Serge engineered the fake?
“My mum broke down when Marco told her, and they had to call Gaëlle to come and collect her,” he told Lacey instead. The idea of his mother so hysterical caused him to shrink a little inside, wishing he could’ve been there for her.
“Oh, no.” Lacey’s hand tightened on his knee, and his throat constricted. Because she felt his pain. Felt his need to go to his mother and make this all okay again. He’d promised to ring her again in the morning. He was in the middle of a murder investigation, which meant he couldn’t up and leave to go and visit his mother. This was his crime, his killer to apprehend. But if his mother needed him…he would make it happen, even if he only flew in for one day.
They sat in silence for many long minutes, until Lacey finally said, “You need to get a copy of that photo.”
“Agreed.”
“Can you track this couple down and talk to them yourself?” she asked, going into full cop mode.
“Probably. If I wanted to.” And that was the crux of the question. Did he want to pursue this? Did he want to find out if his dad was actually still alive?
“You could also talk to the coroner in charge of your father’s death. Or at the very least pull the files on the case.”
“Yes.” They were all valid comments. And he could follow up on all of them. Or none. Depending on how much he wanted to know.
“What about your mum? Will she want you to pursue this?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t know.” He grimaced as he thought about Catarina. After all this time thinking they were free of Serge, would she want to know he was still alive? And if she did, he’d probably have to honor her wishes. And then there was the rest of the family. What would Gaëlle and Brice want to do?
Gaëlle had still been with Catarina when she’d called him. Nico had heard her soft voice in the background, encouraging their mother not to get too worked up over her supposedly dead husband.
What would it mean to them as a family if Serge was suddenly found healthy and breathing? He clearly hadn’t wanted to be found, if he had indeed faked his own death. Which hopefully meant he had no intention of coming back to haunt his family.
Up until tonight, his total focus had been on solving Rania’s murder. And Lacey, of course. She took up the part of his mind that wasn’t fully devoted to the investigation. Even when he tried to push her out of his brain, she was there, the way her body affected his, the way her soft curves called to something deep inside, the way her voice lingered in his head long after she’d left the room. It was all-consuming, and he wasn’t sure what to do about her yet. But this new information about his father would put a damper on everything he was already dealing with. Steal his attention away from what mattered most. He had to find this killer. His whole career might hinge on this investigation. Not to mention the fact he wanted to make this a safe community once again. One where people didn’t have to lock their doors and windows at night and watch their neighbors with suspicion.
Nico blew out a breath and closed his eyes. What to do now?
