Chapter 22
The Storage Unit
~~Aria~~
After winning Game Six, the guys flew to Colorado for game seven. I wish I were attending in person, but I’m not. I’ll have to be satisfied watching on TV tonight.
I’ve spent the past few days diving into Gardenia’s case with both feet.
I’ve pored over records I found on the internet and through other means.
Through my efforts, I hunt down the neighbor, Sally McClanahan, who might have a story to tell.
The detective on his case has never interviewed her.
Carla tried but had no luck making contact.
Sally refused to speak to me at first. Being in my line of work, I’m persistent and convincing.
After expending a great deal of effort and pleading with her, Sally reluctantly agrees to a meeting.
She was nineteen and a college student living at home next door to Gary Bliss at the time of his death.
Since I have a few hours to kill before the meeting, I put the storage unit key in my purse and drive there.
It’s time to dredge up the truth behind what my sister was actually doing in Vegas, even if I’d rather not know.
It’s also important I find any and all paperwork pertaining to Noah before I can breathe easily.
I feel as if the walls are closing in, and Drakos might put two and two together.
The storage unit is a small one on the second floor of an urban storage facility.
I unlock the door, flip on the light, and pause.
The room is a haphazard chaos of stacked boxes leaning precariously against each other.
There’s a complete lack of large items, only the cardboard boxes of various sizes.
A lone plastic lawn chair sits near the door.
I pull it over to one of the front stacks, remove the top box, and place it on the floor in front of the chair.
Taking a seat, I open the lid and stare at the contents with puzzlement.
It’s full of clothing, but not business suits or casual clothing.
I pick up the top item. It’s a red silk negligee.
I rummage through the box to discover it’s filled with sexy underwear and clubbing dresses that don’t cover much more than the negligee.
In the bottom, there’s a French maid outfit, a revealing cheerleader outfit no cheerleader would be allowed to wear, and various other items all designed for maximum exposure.
Why would my conservative, buttoned-up sister have clothes like this?
Then again, nothing I’m finding out about my sister matches the image she portrayed to our family. The credit card fraud, the lies about her doctorate degree and her professor position, the empty bank accounts, and now this.
I feel sick, and I’m certain I’ll find out more secrets in this storage unit, things I don’t want to know, yet I need to unearth the truth.
Who exactly was my sister?
The next box contains overdue bills, old magazines, junk mail, and various other worthless pieces of paper. So far today, I’ve discovered two things about my sister. One, she liked sexy clothes, and two, she was a borderline hoarder.
I check the time and realize that I have to go or be late for my appointment. Sally’s so skittish I don’t dare show up a minute late as she’ll most likely leave.
Entering the Pumpkin Rose coffee shop, I glance around, not sure what Sally looks like. I see a petite woman huddled in the corner by herself. She’s the right age, and she’s clearly nervous. I walk up to her with a smile on my face.
“Sally?”
She looks up and nods. I sit down. Sally’s hands shake as she lifts a coffee mug to her lips. Very odd. What does she have to be nervous about?
“Did anyone follow you here?” Her eyes dart around the room. She eyes a man just walking in the door with suspicion. He’s oblivious to her scrutiny. After a few seconds, she must deem him to be harmless and turns back to me.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?” Mistrust is written all over her face.
“Pretty sure. Are you concerned about something?” I’m puzzled. There’s more to this mystery than I imagined.
“Yes. They won’t appreciate me talking to anyone.” Sally glances around but no one is sitting within earshot.
“They? Who’s they?”
“Julie Bliss and her boyfriend.”
“What boyfriend?”
“The one she had while married to Gary Bliss.”
Though there have been rumors of a boyfriend, no one has substantiated them until now. At least, not to my knowledge. I’m certainly not privy to everything that Carla and Michella uncovered, but Gardenia did mention that she had suspicions.
“Tell me everything you know. Do you mind if I record this?”
Sally fidgets and tears up a napkin, leaving a little pile on the table. I wait her out, not pushing too hard—yet.
“I guess it’s okay,” she concedes, clearly uncomfortable. I turn on the recorder app on my phone.
“Thank you. The PI Gardenia hired has tried to contact you, but you would never speak to them. Why are you speaking to me now?”
She surprises me by almost smiling. “Because I’m a fan.”
“A fan?”
“Of your writing on All Hockey News. Why aren’t you writing for them anymore?”
I’m not here to talk about me, but if it makes her more comfortable, I will. “I felt increasingly compromised regarding the types of stories I was required to write.”
“Why?”
“Because All Hockey News isn’t grounded in the facts, more like the drama and sensationalism that gets clicks and advertiser dollars.”
“Oh.” She appears at a loss for words.
“I’m exploring other options. Right now, I’m doing a side job to investigate the death of Gardenia Bliss’s father, which I explained over the phone.”
“You did.” Sally glances at her phone. “I don’t have much time. I have another obligation within the hour.”
“Okay, let’s get down to business then. Tell me about the night Mr. Bliss died. Were you home?”
“Yes, my parents were gone on vacation, and I was taking care of their cats and studying for a big Chem 101 test.”
“Did you see or hear anything that night?”
Sally glances around again. She pulls another napkin from the dispenser on our table and tears it into small pieces. “I think so.”
“What?” I speak quietly, not wanting to spook her.
She leans in and lowers her voice. I barely make out her words.
“I heard a car around midnight. I thought it was my boyfriend. We’d gotten into a fight earlier, and I assumed he was coming apologize.
I stepped onto the front porch to greet him, but the car slowly cruised in front of my house and stopped in front of Mr. Bliss’s home for several seconds before accelerating.
I thought it was odd, and I was annoyed it wasn’t Harlon, my boyfriend.
Then the car returned. The driver passed by and pulled over to the curb several houses down.
Being a true-crime junkie, I’m immediately suspicious.
I’m thinking the guy is a burglar canvassing the neighborhood. ”
“What happened next?” I hurriedly scribble notes on a yellow pad. Even though our conversation’s being recorded, writing things down helps me make sense of what’s being said.
“I crouched behind a large plant on my porch. Pretty soon the guy got out. He was wearing all black and walking my direction, while being very careful to stay in the shadows. I held my breath and actually punched in 911 on my phone, ready to hit the Call button at any moment. He snuck around the side of the Blisses’ house.
From what I can tell, he had a key, unlocked the door, entered, and shut it behind him.
I didn’t know what to do. He clearly hadn’t broken in.
I was thinking maybe he’s a houseguest.” She pauses to take a breath and another sip of coffee.
“Is that all?”
“No. I heard a loud noise, like a gunshot. That same guy hurried from the house. He saw me and ran toward me. I was frozen with fear. He shoved me against the wall and threw my phone down. Then he threatened to kill me and my family if I said anything. I was scared to death, thinking I was going to die right there. He let me go with one final warning. If I talked, he’d make sure I paid. Then he left.”
“Did you get a good look at him? Can you describe him?”
“I can do better than that. He was the Blisses’ gardener, but I’d seen him at their house all hours of the day and night. As soon as Mr. Bliss left, this guy would show up. I figured he was having an affair with Mrs. Bliss.”
“Do you know his name?”
“I do.”
An hour later, I’m sitting at Gardenia’s kitchen table. The big house overlooks a large lawn and a view of Puget Sound. The view is peaceful and comforting, but there’s nothing peaceful and comforting about what I’m going to reveal.
Gardenia listens quietly as I play the recording for her.
Once it’s over, she puts her head in her hands and sobs quietly.
I don’t know what to do. I’m awful at the touchy-feely stuff.
My family was never very demonstrative, and I’m not used to doing so myself.
I awkwardly rub her back until the sobs subside.
Gardenia lifts her head and manages a slight smile.
“Thank you. I knew Dad didn’t kill himself. He had too much to live for. And the timing… He was in the process of filing for a divorce from that woman. I also suspected, as did Dad, that she was having an affair.”
“I hope this information is helpful.”
“I do too. I’ll give this recording to Carla, and we’ll press for the case to be reopened.”
“I hope you get justice for your dad.”
“Me, too. Thank you so much for all you’ve done. Carla tried to meet with her, but she refused. I never expected results this quickly and for the information to be so damning.”
“I’m nothing if not persistent.”
We talk for a while longer about the boys and my job search, which is a pretty dismal subject, since I’m not finding anything I’m remotely qualified for.
“A bunch of the WAGs are watching the game together tonight. Would you like to join us?”
“I don’t think I’d be welcome.”
“Of course you will be. It’s here, and I can invite whoever I please.”
“I don’t know.”
“They’re a great bunch of women. They’ll forgive you once they get to know and trust you, like I do.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes. I like to think I’m a good judge of character, and you’ve redeemed yourself. Besides, you mostly attacked Drakos this past season. Not the other guys. Why do you hate him so much?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Do you two have a history?”
“Us? No. We don’t.”
Gardenia studies me with interest. Her stare is so intense, I squirm under her scrutiny. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, needing her to fill in the blanks. Call it a sixth sense, but I’m fearful of her answer. Something’s off, and I know it as well as I know my name.
A slow, knowing smile crosses face, and she nods. “I finally get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you hate him so much.”
“And why do you think that is?” I tread lightly, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Only where will I bolt to? It’s not as if I can leave Noah at the rink and disappear.
“The truth has been staring me in the face all along, but I didn’t see it until now. Your sister lived in Vegas, and Drakos played for Vegas years ago.”
I literally choke and take a long drink from the water glass sitting in front of me. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“From your reaction, you do. Drakos is Noah’s father.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I go cold inside. Every part of me is frozen and unable to react. I can barely breathe beyond the abject terror of what her discovery might mean. Do I deny her revelation? Do I admit the truth? Do I trust her to keep my secret?
“Don’t try to deny what’s so obvious. I know it’s true, and everything makes sense now. I’ll bet Noah looks identical to Drakos at the same age.”
I have no words.
“You told me long ago that Noah’s father relinquished his rights. Were you referring to Drakos? He did that?”
“He did.”
She’s silent for a long while and stares out the window before facing me again with clear resolve. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see him the same way.”
“I struggle with that too. For so long I saw him as nothing but an asshole, and now you know why. He walked away from his son without looking back once. Paid off my sister and relinquished all rights. Officially, he’s no longer the father.”
“Does he know who Noah is?”
“No, and I don’t think he should.”
“I can’t blame you, yet what if he finds out anyway? It’s hard to picture the Drakos I know doing something like that, but he was young and a huge partier back then. Maybe he’s grown up since.”
“I would hope so. My dilemma is that I’ve gotten to know him, and it’s hard to hate him as passionately as I once did. He’s been good to Noah, and they have a bond I can’t deny.”
“There’s something to be said for genetics.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say dejectedly.
Sometimes life has a way of forcing a person to do something they don’t want to do. Life did that to me today by being forced to admit Drakos is Noah’s father. Gardenia will keep my secret. I’m certain of that, but how long before others figure it out?
How long before Drakos starts putting the pieces together and demands the truth?
Then what do I do? The answer isn’t as cut-and-dried as it once was.