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In fact, she hadn’t asked what happened to our mother. I was only eleven years old but even I found my little sister’s reaction odd. One day after school, I walked past Cheri’sbedroom. She was talking on the phone to her best friend Emily. Cheri was telling Emily that our mother would be home from the hospital as soon as she felt better.
    Dad took Cheri to the doctor after that. The doctor said that Cheri knew deep down that Mom was gone forever. But she coped by making up a story that allowed her to feel safe. She would accept our mother’s death when she was ready.
    Cheri’s biggest fear had always been that people would desert her. She feared that the people she loved would leave her even more than she feared that her husband could try to kill her.
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    For the next two weeks, Cheri left for work each morning by nine and returned for supper at seven. I fell into the role of shopper and chef. I listened carefully over plates of pasta, chicken casseroles, and grilled steak as she told me the details of her day. I listened for lies and watched for signs of craziness. I thought about booking that plane back to Kermit.
    And yet, something didn’t sit right. I knew my sister. Her panic had been real. Sometimes, I couldstill hear the fear just beneath the surface of her words. I couldn’t leave her alone just yet. The case didn’t feel closed.
    I spent my days researching everyone in Cheri’s life, including her co-workers and neighbours. I found out some interesting information, but nothing that screamed killer.
    Cheri’s boss Bob Cahill was married with four daughters—two in university and two in high school. His wife’s parents owned real estate. Someday, she was going to inherit a fortune.
    Bob hired Janet Chan as his legal assistant a year ago. Twice a week, they spent their lunch hour at the Blue Rock Motel. I tailed them four times and waited outside. Whatever they were up to lasted forty-five minutes. Bob always left ten minutes before Janet.
    Roger Little, the other young lawyer, grew up in Montreal and studied law at McGill. He wasn’t married and spent his free time playing squash and training for Iron Man competitions. He and Hannah Jones had dated off and on. They met in law school. They didn’t appear to be a couple when she died.
    Betty Zimmer, the sixty-five-year-old office manager, lived with her son in the south end. Shewas divorced and just scraping by. She spent her free time at bingo and church.
    None of Cheri’s co-workers had a criminal record. And they all seemed crushed by Hannah’s death.
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    Dad dropped by to see me two Thursdays later. I made coffee and we sat on lawn chairs in Cheri’s backyard. August was nearing an end. I’d been in Ottawa almost four weeks now and was getting restless. Mornings were chilly and the afternoon heat had ended. Still, it was comfortable drinking our coffee in the sun on the deck.
    “How’s Cheri?” Dad asked. “Has she got her head screwed on straight again?”
    “Hard to say. She’s working long hours and comes home too tired to do anything. I’ve become her cook and cleaner.”
    “She has a way of turning events in her favour. Sometimes I think I was too easy on her after your mother died.”
    “Yeah. Well, since I’ve been here, she hasn’t gotten any late night phone calls. No threats of any sort. Jimmy thinks she made it all up. What do you think, Dad?”
    “Hard to know. Seems a bit over the top, even for Cheri.” He studied the string of pine trees at the back of the yard. “Although she was mighty worked up when Jimmy left.”
    “Cheri and Jimmy have been talking a lot lately. They talked last night about having dinner as a family on Sunday. Cheri says Jimmy wants to try again.” I looked at my father. “I’ll be leaving soon. I’ve got an open-ended plane ticket back to Kermit.” Dad nodded. “Thought as much.” He turned and looked at me sideways from under the brim of his ball cap. “You know you