Free Hell by Hilary Norman Page A

it – as if it was something Andy could have changed, like his clothes – but our mother seemed to find it socially unacceptable, which always seemed much worse to me.’ She shook her head. ‘I was worse than either of them.’
    Sam and Martinez both waited as Anne Dover stirred her coffee, but she remained silent, locked in another world.
    â€˜What did you do?’ Sam asked, finally.
    â€˜Nothing,’ she said. ‘Not one damned thing.’
    â€˜Your brother’s friend, Gail, says that you stayed in touch with him,’ Sam told her. ‘She said that meant a lot to Andrew.’
    â€˜It’s nice of her to say that,’ Anne Dover said.
    â€˜I’d say she meant it,’ Martinez said.
    â€˜More than I deserve then,’ she said, and took a breath. ‘So tell me, gentlemen, what I can do for my brother now. When it’s all too late. I’m assuming you don’t know who did this to him?’
    Sam leaned in to the table. ‘How much did he tell you about his life?’
    â€˜Not much,’ she said. ‘But I’ve brought all his letters, just in case there’s anything in any of them that might help you.’ She reached down, patted her black trolley case. ‘I thought I might look through them on the flight, but I found I couldn’t.’
    â€˜There’s time,’ Sam said.
    â€˜I don’t think there’s anything there,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember him telling me about anything bad happening – except when he got fired from the bank. Did you know about that?’
    â€˜We did,’ Martinez said.
    â€˜That upset Andy so much,’ his sister said. ‘But he didn’t blame anyone except himself. He was never resentful.’
    â€˜Did you speak often?’ Sam asked.
    â€˜I called him about once a month. Andy always liked to hear about my children – two boys and a girl. My husband’s home, taking care of them.’
    â€˜Your brother kept a photo of you all in his room,’ Sam told her.
    She nodded. ‘I guess you’ve been through all his things already.’
    â€˜I’m afraid we had no choice,’ Martinez said.
    â€˜I know,’ Anne Dover said. ‘I just think Andy would have hated that.’
    She had nothing of use to share with them, but she promised to make herself available at any time of day or night while she was in Miami. Her parents, she said, had no plans to fly down, and she would be making the arrangements to bring her brother home when formalities permitted.
    She refused their offer of a ride into the city, apologized for not being able to help them in any way as yet apparent, and asked them to keep her in touch with the investigation.
    â€˜Sackcloth routine a little hard to take?’ Sam said to Martinez as they headed back to the car.
    â€˜You think?’ Martinez said, and rolled his eyes.
    â€˜I guess her pain’s genuine enough,’ Sam said.
    â€˜A genuine pain,’ Martinez said.
    The air was still balmy just after eight thirty when Sam’s old Saab growled its way past Névé’s steel security gate and lights blazed out in the driveway.
    Grace’s Toyota and Cathy’s Mazda – not Saul’s Dodge pickup, after all – stood alongside the other family cars, and the front door was already opening, and Mike, Grace’s older nephew – an athletic, handsome seventeen – was emerging with a welcoming smile.
    They were a warm, natural, easygoing family, yet their front door was solid steel masked by a snow-white façade, complete with biometric fingerprint entry system. And Lord knew security was just what Sam craved for his own family right now, but he had wondered at it more than once, at the gentle-mannered architect who’d gone to such semi-paranoid lengths.
    â€˜Hey,’ Mike said. ‘Need a hand?’
    â€˜Hey yourself,’ Sam said, pulling his bag out of the