AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He nodded. “You here to see me? They said I was to expect visitors. I don’t get many of ’em. And call me Pete.”
“I’m Detective Gary Mitchell from Boston PD, and this is Dan Porter. We’re—”
“You’re here because of Cheryl, aren’t you?” Before they could confirm it, tears spilled onto his wrinkled cheeks. He reached into his deep pocket and removed a handkerchief, then dabbed his eyes, sniffing. “Sorry about that. Don’t know what came over me.”
Gary pointed to the rustic bench beside the fountain. “Let’s sit, and we can talk.”
Pete sat, his breathing still hitching now and then. “Youarehere about Cheryl, aren’t you?” He paused, staring at Dan, and his eyes widened. “I know your face. You’re that psychic who helped the police catch that serial killer last month. Are you working with them to find out what happened to Cheryl?”
Dan smiled. “Yes. I’m part of Boston PD’s cold cases department now. And—”
“Thank you, thank you, both of you.” Fresh tears streaked Pete’s face. “I always dreamed one day I’d learn the truth, but to be honest I’d given up hope. So do you know who killed her?”
Gary sighed. “Not yet. We’ve only just begun to look at the case, and you’re the first person we’re talking to. Do you think you could answer some questions?” He joined Pete on the bench, and Dan perched on the low fountain wall.
Pete squared his bony shoulders. “If it helps you find out how she died, I’ll answer as many questions as you like.”
Gary took out his notepad. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Pete didn’t hesitate. “August twenty-eighth, 1992. Back then I was the head gardener for Senator Cain, at the Cain residence in Lenox. Cheryl lived there with me, in the cottage provided by the family. Well, she did until 1987. After that, she got a place in Boston, where she worked.”
“How long did you work there?” Dan asked.
Pete scratched his head. “I started there in 1958, when I was sixteen. The senator was only four years old then.” He smiled. “He used to run after me, demanding that I play with him. Then I met Rachel—my wife—and we married in sixty-one. Cheryl came along in sixty-four.” He glanced at them. “You wanna know why she will always be Cheryl for me?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s a sort of… penance. Because I didn’t get it, not at the time, when she said she’d always felt like a woman in a man’s body. I-I wasn’t the most tolerant of men back then. But you grow older, wiser. And when I saw how much happier she was as Cheryl, well, I had to accept her decision. Her mom, on the other hand… it drove a wedge between them.”
“Where is your wife?” Dan’s voice was soft.
“She died four years ago. Heart attack.” Another hard swallow. “She gave up hope of ever finding out what happened.”
“Where did you last see Cheryl?” Gary asked.
“At the senator’s house in Lenox. She turned up that morning to see me.” He smiled. “She’d gotten into a habit of visiting every Friday during the summer months. I think it was because Friday was her regular day off. She came early and had breakfast with me. Then I went to work.”
“Did you see her after that?”
“No, sir. I finished work at noon, and then the wife and I went to visit my mother-in-law. We stayed there until Sunday night.”
“Do you know of anyone who saw her after August twenty-eighth?”
Pete shook his head. “No, not a soul. And you’d better believe we asked everyone. When the police contacted me in 2006 to say they’d found a body that might be Cheryl, I prayed they’d got it wrong, but that steel pin was the clincher. She had an accident when she was nineteen, you see. It made a mess of her leg, but they fixed her up.”
“The car accident?” Dan proffered.
“You know about that?” When Dan nodded, Pete gave them a keen glance. “And what about all the stuff that came after? The death threats? The letters?”
Gary stilled. “What?”
Pete gave a slow nod. “For two years. Anonymous letters, phone calls, all saying the same thing—that she was to blame. I told her to go to the police about them, but she never did. I think the senator told her the same thing. And then they stopped.”
“Do you have any idea why?” Gary asked.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I do. Because that was when Ben Raskin disappeared off the face of the earth and Cheryl Somers was born. She changed her name, her hair, her clothes, and suddenly I had a daughter instead of a son.” He flushed. “I’m not proud of how I reacted at the time. I only hope I made it up to her in the years leading up to her disappearance.”
“We saw her work. Her portraits.” Dan’s face glowed. “Such a talented artist.”
Pete gave a wry chuckle. “I’ve got no idea where she got it from. Her mom and me, we were about as artistic as a road digger. Hard to believe the portraits were a sideline. I think she made more money from them than from her job.”
“What did she do?” Dan asked.
