The Secret Sister by M. DeLuca (leveled readers txt) 📗

end of my third year of education I attended a guest lecture. The speaker was billed as Gord Franzen, a leading expert on student engagement and author of a string of successful titles, all standard texts in university. But the moment he walked onstage it was as if a bolt of lightning slammed into the top of my head and seared through my body.

My eyes took in the figure at the podium. The sheen of his dark suit, the smooth swath of reddish hair combed to the side and set with hairspray. Like a glossy TV news anchor, the words flowed from his mouth, sending a fine spray of spit into the microphone. I could barely focus. My fingertips danced on the arm of my chair. Those Polaroid pictures flipped through my head like a porn catalogue, with fifteen-year-old Birdie as the fantasy sex toy. If I’d had them in my pocket I’d have fanned them out like a winning poker hand, shoved them into his face and said, What do you have to say about this, you creep? What would the cops say if they knew it was you? What if your precious family knew?

But I didn’t have them with me. I had no ready evidence at hand to pin him to the crime. Only my junkie sister’s word and now she was gone. Who would believe her anyway? I had to be patient. Wait for the right time and place. The right way to make him pay.

Now that time was really close.

Despite the warm sunlight, I shivered at the memory. But this was no time for distractions. I grasped my briefcase and marched further up the street, away from the university. Gord’s offices were situated in the top floor of a glass and brick building. I stood outside to get the feel of the place even though I knew it already. Had been there years before. Stood outside that brick facade many times in my student days. Watching for signs of Gord. Maybe even a glimpse of his son. Violent scenarios ran over and over in my head. What I’d do to Gord if I confronted him. A gunshot to the chest. A vial of acid thrown in the face. A knife thrust just under the ribs. I’d imagined them all.

I passed through the plant-filled lobby, hummed as the elevator took me up to the fourth floor and stepped into a modern suite of offices. Nancy was already there. The smell of freshly perked coffee and warm cinnamon rolls told me she’d been busy preparing. I found her in the ultra-white kitchen cutting up pineapple and adding it to a tower of fresh fruit. In all my thoughts about Gord I’d tried to put Nancy out of my head, but watching her bustle about in that kitchen I found myself wondering about her. Had she known about the girls? Did Gord ever force sex on her? Bully her? Degrade her? Why the hell did she stay with him? Why didn’t she slit his throat while he slept, his mouth gaping open, the pale swell of his Adam’s apple quivering, begging for the edge of a blade? And what about Guy? Did he suspect anything or had Nancy always protected her darling boy?

“Nervous?” she asked and I almost jumped out of my skin.

I shook my head. “Just bummed I can’t sleep in anymore,” I said, reaching for the coffee. “I need this so bad.”

She ushered me into the meeting room. “Gord’s on a call. Make yourself comfortable.”

I grabbed a warm cinnamon roll, sat back and took in my surroundings. White walls decorated with twisted wire and glass sculptures, shiny black conference table surrounded by white leather chairs, pale wood-grain flooring. Typical Nancy décor. Pristine, almost sterile surroundings. Maybe her way of coping with the dirty mess of being Gord’s wife. And now I was Gord’s daughter-in-law as well as his employee. Couldn’t get any closer to him. My palms tingled, my temples ached, my heart thrummed in my ears. I wished Guy would come. I’d never been alone with Gord and I hoped to hell I could hide my loathing and disgust when I saw him. After all, he was street-smart, like me. Perhaps he was already onto me and wasn’t letting on. But I had one major advantage over him.

I had nothing to lose.

Unlike Gord who had everything at stake.

As if he’d read my thoughts, he appeared, larger than life at the door. My hand jolted the coffee cup, sending a pool of brown across the white tabletop. I jumped up to grab a napkin.

“Relax, Nance’ll get it. Nancee,” he yelled. “Cleanup needed.”

I mopped at the puddle. “No need to bother her.”

“She’d be hurt if I didn’t,” he replied as she swept in with a spray bottle and wad of paper towel.

As she bent across the table to wipe away the mess I caught the slight movement of his hand on her ass. Patting it. Proprietary. As if she were a chattel he’d bought and paid for. Her whole body went rigid. I bit my tongue. Checked myself from calling him a slimy piece of garbage, turned to glance out of the window, wishing, hoping Guy would show up so I could tether myself to the present again.

“So Guy tells me you’ve no family,” he said. A bolt totally out of the blue.

Nancy chewed on her lower lip. “Gord, you could be a bit more diplomatic. Maybe ease into the personal questions.”

He glared. “I think Anna would appreciate a fresh cup of coffee, dearest heart.”

She glared back at him, drew her shoulders back and swept out of the room. The door swung shut leaving me to face his question. He stared straight at me, clearly awaiting a response.

“My parents passed away a long time ago.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

I thought I detected a hint of rancor on the word sister, but decided I’d imagined it.

“None. I was an only child.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “So who