Page 20 of Paternal Instincts
“Why is that?”
Nixon glanced at his wife, then ducked his chin, avoiding her pointed glare.
Neither spoke.
“Is it because of the… discord between you and your in-laws?” I asked Imogen.
“Yes.”
“Is there a reason behind this friction?”
Imogen stared unblinking as though she didn’t have a clue or wasn’t willing to share.
It was Nixon who responded. “No reason we know of, Detective. I’ve talked to Mom and Dad a hundred times about it. It’s not fair the way they treat her. Genie and I have been dating since high school. Since grade nine, actually. We were fourteen. She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved and been with. Sometimes, I think that’s why they don’t like her. My parents didn’t want me to marry the first girl I ever dated and fell in love with. They thought I needed to have more experiences and travel the world. Dad often said I shouldn’t tie myself down so soon, but I didn’t need those things. I needed Genie.”
It wasn’t a great reason, but it was a reason. Considering the couple was easily fifteen years out of high school, I would have expected those raw feelings to have mended by now, but some people held grudges to excess.
“Okay. How about siblings?” Jordyn asked. “Are you an only child?”
“No. I have an older brother. Flynn.”
“Have you been in contact with him lately?”
“Yes.” Nixon scratched the back of his neck, and a sad smile came and went. “Flynn is… nomadic, I guess you’d say. He never settles in one place for long. He’s living in Pickering at the moment. Can’t hold a job. Always moving.”
Nixon huffed a humorless laugh. “My brother’s a mess, and I say that lovingly. He had a falling out with my parents years ago, and they don’t talk anymore, but it rippled through his whole life. He dropped out of college and got in with the wrong crowd for a bit. He struggled with drugs and alcohol for a time. He’s better now. Sober and clean. Still not settled, but better than he was. We keep in touch. I don’t see him as often as I’d like, but we talk on the phone and visit when we can.”
“When’s the last time he was around?” Jordyn asked.
“He’s been job hunting in the area, so he’s been in and out over the past few weeks. We’ve had him over for dinner a few times.”
When there was a pause in the conversation, I jumped in. “It sounds like you and Flynn get along. Has there ever been bad blood between you?”
“God no. My brother is my best friend. I’ve always had his back. He’d go to war for me, too.” The dam burst, and Nixon buried his face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to call him about Crow so badly, but we were afraid to tell anyone. I need my brother. Flynn has enough problems without adding to them, but I’ve been so scared. So fucking scared. Where’s my baby boy, Detective? Where is he?”
I gave Nixon a minute to compose himself and redirected to Imogen. “How is your relationship with Flynn?”
Imogen stared at her sobbing husband, forehead pleated, her mind seemingly a million miles away, yet her pain wasn’t hidden. I suspected she wanted to reach for him but didn’t know how. Crowley’s abduction had opened a canyon in their marriage. It wasn’t unusual.
“Imogen?”
“Flynn is…” She sighed, shifting her attention to her hands. “Flynn is Flynn. Not sure how else to describe him. I’ve known him forever.”
“No troubles?”
Imogen absently shook her head, the worry lines beside her eyes pulling tighter as Nixon came undone.
Nixon was beyond interviewing, so I motioned for Jordyn to shift her questions to the wife.
“Tell us about your parents,” my partner said.
Imogen talked about her mother, Diane, and her father, Ronald. The couple lived in a suburb of Etobicoke and were both retired accountants.
“We understand from Nixon that there is some tension on this front as well.” Jordyn glanced at me as though unsure she was using appropriate terminology.
“Is there friction between your parents and Nixon?” she asked.
“Only between him and my mother. She’s never liked his family.”
