Free The Hard Fall by Brenda Chapman Page B

I was just happy to see him out of bed.
    I jumped out of my car and hurried into the house.
    “There you are,” he said when I entered the living room. He lowered the book onto his lap. “I was beginning to think you were out on a hot date.”
    “No such luck. Did Cheri come by?” My sister and I had been taking turns keeping Dad company after each round of chemo. He said he didn’t want us to bother. We ignored his commands to leave him alone. I think he was secretly pleased that we fussed.
    “She was here but I sent her home after lunch. I should be good now for another week until the next round.”
    “A week to fatten you up. I’ll scramble some eggs and serve them up on toast if you’re hungry.”
    “Only if you join me.”
    “Of course. I can’t let you get fat alone.”
    Dad gave me a quick smile. He knew that I was covering my concern with lame humour.
    I told Dad about my new case while we ate at the kitchen table. Dad had followed the story in the paper like everyone else in Ottawa. Everyone, that is, except me. I’d heard bits and pieces, of course. But starting a business and looking after Dad and his house had kept me busy the last few months. I hadn’t had time to wade into the Taylors’ backgrounds or to read up on the juicy gossip.
    “The Taylors don’t have any kids,” Dad said. “He’s the CEO of a company that made millions building helicopters. His big plant is outside Kingston but the head office is here. He was elected to city council last year. She used to be a swimsuit model but gave that up to marry him. Two of the beautiful people. It’s like watching a train wreck.”
    “What about his mistress, Laura Flint? Do you know anything about her?”
    “Her husband died in a hunting accident some years back. Not sure where they lived, but I seem to remember it was out west. She moved into one of those fancy houses in Rockcliffe, so she’s not hurting for money. I guess that’s how she met the Taylors.”
    “Beware of rich widows,” I said. I stood and took our empty plates to the counter. “Can I get you anything else, Dad?”
    Dad stretched his arms over his head. He’d lost weight and it hurt to look at him too closely. “Think I’ll call it a night. How about I do some fact-finding for you tomorrow on my computer? Might be of some use putting together your case, given all my work experience.”
    “That would be a big help. I have some files from Taylor’s lawyer to go through tonight. I’ll leave a list of names for you to run searches on.” Dad had worked in military intelligence the last part of his career. He’d spent a lot of time searching for information on computers.
    “Consider it done.”
    From the kitchen, I watched Dad walk with ramrod-straight back. No matter how much pain he was in, he never let on. The Sweets never let on. I leaned on the counter and closed my eyes for a moment. When I heard him climb into his bed, I opened my eyes and blinked away the blurriness. I gave myself a shake. Dad was going to make it through. I just had to keep the faith. He would accept no less from the daughter he raised in his likeness.
    Never show your underbelly. If you’re hurting, suck it up.
    The Sweet family motto. The words we live by, until death do us part.

CHAPTER THREE
    P aul Taylor sat across the table from me in the meeting room. He wore an orange jump suit and handcuffs. He held himself like a man used to being in charge, but I saw signs of wear. His silver hair had grown just shaggy enough to let me know he wasn’t getting two-hundred-dollar haircuts in jail. His eyes were piercing blue but tired. They studied me. He had a poker face; I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
    “I’m sorry to have to make you repeat everything,” I said. “I’m going to examine every bit of evidence again. I’d like to start with you and Laura Flint.”
    “A bad decision on my part,” Paul said.
    “Excuse me?”
    “To start up with her. I didn’t kill