Death's Shadow Read Online Free Page A

“Me and you against the world, eh, Mom?”
    Pasquale “Pat” Del Sordo.
Hamilton Spectator.
    She was fiercely protective of him; one of his girlfriends once broke up with him because he paid so much attention to his mother. When he was in his early twenties, Pasquale and a girlfriend had a child, a girl. They did not stay together, though. Still, Ruth glowed with pride when, in the early days, she saw him bathe and diaper the baby.
    By the summer of 2000, nearing his 26th birthday, Pasquale, who now went by the name his friends had given him, Pat, worked for his dad framing houses and still lived upstairs in the family home in Stoney Creek. He loved to go out at night, though. He loved his food and music; fixing up his blue Jeep and riding around blasting classic Kiss; heading out at night with six or seven of his fingers adorned with gold rings; taking centre stage on the dance floor at clubs, all 5 foot 11, 240 pounds of him. Others gravitated toward him, his big laugh and brassy presence.
    His dad warned him not to stay out too late. Pat often had to work early in the morning, and most of all he needed to be careful out there. But Pat seemed to trust everyone. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be okay,” he said, and gave Flavio a hug and playfully pinched his cheek.
    Even when he had a late night, Pat always returned home to sleep in his own bed. That continued during the summer of 2000, when he was seeing Charlisa Clark. Saturday afternoon, June 17, he hung with Charlisa and her son, Eugene, and then, later that night, he was out with his friends Moe and Luca in Burlington at a carnival on the lakeshore. They stopped at a club called Billy Bob’s, but the lineup was too big, so they decided to pack it in. Pat was dropped off at the Del Sordo home just after midnight.
    His family had plans for Sunday, Father’s Day: everyone was going to the Mandarin for a big dinner, as was the custom. Soon after midnight, Charlisa called him on his cell. He left the house, took his dad’s white Del Sordo Construction van and drove the 15 minutes to visit Charlisa at her apartment on King Street East; parked in a lot right across the street.
    Ruth woke up at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday. Pat had not come home. She was worried, and called his cell repeatedly. No answer, just his voice mail. At 4:45 p.m. Ruth and Flavio drove downtown to pick up their youngest, Joey, from where he was getting off a shift working at Tim Hortons. On the way, driving along King East, they noticed the white van in a parking lot. They did not know that Charlisa lived across the street. Flavio phoned his son Anthony; told him to bring the extra set of keys. Flavio opened the back door of the van, which was unlocked. Anthony left his father, and Flavio drove the van home by himself.
    It was 7:00 p.m. and no one had heard from Pat yet. The family decided to go back to the spot on King Street where the van had been parked. Flavio, Anthony and his fiancée, Joey, and Pat’s friends Luca and Moe went down. The area near 781 King Street East now buzzed with police; yellow crime-scene tape was up. Did it have anything to do with Pat? Officers asked them to come to Central Station, where detectives began interviewing Pat’s family and friends. Did anyone have any reason to harm Pat? Had he had any trouble with friends or girlfriends? Any drug use? No, the family replied, everyone loved Pat; he didn’t take drugs and was hard on people who did, even if they just smoked cigarettes.
    Flavio phoned Ruth, who was still at home. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “The police are saying there are two people found dead in an apartment on King Street, but are not saying who it is.”
    Ruth dropped the phone, fearing the worst.
    “Please!” she yelled, “Don’t take my Pasquale! Take me! God, take me!”
    All that night, still uncertain if her son was alive, Ruth prayed, asked God for a miracle, even as she sensed the truth. Flavio suggested maybe Pat had been