by L E Fraser
CHAPTER FORTY
One Week Later: Toronto, Ontario
Sam
“JIM CALLED,” REECE said over the phone. “We’re to meet him at his office. Gabriella’s confessed.”
He disconnected before Sam could say anything, and he didn’t offer to wait for her to reach their office so they could go together. She grabbed her keys and raced out of the loft, leaping into a cab before it shot through the lights at Parliament Street.
Did this mean Gabriella had turned herself in? They’d found the money and could prove she’d accessed it after her disappearance, but they hadn’t found her.
On Friday afternoon, the forensic financial investigator unravelled the twenty-year-old web of holding companies to discover that Gabriella had signed transfer documents two days after her alleged death. She’d had no option but to sign the transfer Gabriella LeBlanc. Although her mother had moved the money numerous times between different holding companies, she’d neglected to change the Articles of Incorporation on the parent company. After Nina’s death and the death of her lawyer, Gabriella LeBlanc was the sole director.
Gabriella had moved the money to a numbered account in the Cayman Islands back in June. Last week, she must have realized they were closing in on the money because she moved it again. They didn’t know where she put it, and the trail was cold. The Cayman bank would only disclose they had opened an account for Gabriella LeBlanc in June, and she’d transferred the funds and closed the account last week.
Forgetting to move the money before she disappeared in June was a stupid mistake. But Sam wondered if Gabriella had maintained enough control that her alter personality didn’t understand the complicated financial side. Gabriella’s talents were financial whereas her other personality’s skills were not.
It didn’t matter because the money could be anywhere, and Gabriella — or her alter, whichever the case may be — didn’t need to be in the same country as the money. Jim was presenting the new evidence on Monday morning and was confident it proved Gabriella was alive. Sam had no idea why she’d step forward.
At First Canadian Place, in her haste to reach the elevator, Sam slipped on the cleaning crew’s freshly waxed lobby floor. She arrived at Jim’s office sweaty, out of breath, and limping.
“What’s going on?” she asked. Reece was already there but he turned his back when she entered, refusing to look at her.
“Gabriella sent me a DVD,” Jim said.
Sam was stunned. “I don’t understand.”
He brought up the video and they watched the short, single frame. Gabriella was sitting against a white wall with a copy of The Globe and Mail from a week ago.
My name is Gabriella LeBlanc Martina. I called 911 shortly after five-thirty p.m. on June 11, 2015, and told the operator that my husband, Derek Martina, had stabbed me. I faked my death and framed my husband for my murder by planting evidence in Derek’s car, staging a crime scene at our home, and disappearing. I’m very sorry and deeply regret my actions.
Jim clicked off the monitor.
“Why would she do this?” Sam asked.
“Maybe this will tell us.” Jim passed her a sealed envelope with her name on the front. “It was in my mailbox at home this morning along with the DVD.” He put up his hand to ward off her interruption. “Before you ask, the police did canvass the neighbourhood, and no one saw anything. There were no fingerprints or DNA on the envelope or the contents. We have no way to trace where it originated from or who delivered it.”
Sam tore open the envelope. The letter was typed. She read the words silently and then read it aloud to Jim and Reece.
Dear Samantha,
I remember you because you’re the only person I ever met with green eyes, and you look just like your father. My sister, Isabella, was your sister’s friend. You’d be too young to remember me.
I knew you would eventually find out the truth, so I’m giving you what you want in the hope it ends your investigation. I didn’t know the process of moving the money out of the account or I would have done it before I disappeared. It was stupid, but at times like these, one must look at the positive. You can’t find it now, and I have no reason to think you’ll ever find me, should you even bother to try once they drop the charges against Derek.
Yes, I broke the law and the authorities will issue a warrant for my arrest, but I doubt they’ll spend money and resources on an international manhunt. I will tell you I’m not in Canada, and you can assure Derek I’ll never bother him or the children again.
I know my sister is dead. I didn’t for a long time. I know about my other personality. We’ve been seeing a therapist and are working hard to fix the things that went wrong.
By now, you know what happened to me when I was a child. You know Quentin is a drunk. You’ve met Derek and have seen the kind of man he is. Samantha, all I’m asking for is a chance to take back my life.
You had a sister who died, just like me. Please try to understand how much I’ve suffered. Please leave me in peace to heal.
Sincerely yours,
Gabriella
No one said anything. Sam stared at the letter and dropped it on top of the table.
“What do you make of that?” Jim asked.
Reece picked it up. “I’m surprised Gabriella bothered writing it. I suppose it doesn’t matter why she did.” He dropped it back to the table and turned away to look out the window.
Sam ran her finger across the typed words. “There’s that phrase from the diary again — at times like these. Repetitive phrasing in speaking and writing is an unconscious personal habit, like a tick. It doesn’t make sense because we know Gabriella didn’t write the diary.”
Jim frowned. “What’s your point?”
She tapped her finger against the letter. “The letter says she didn’t know the process of moving the money or she’d have done it before she staged her death. Gabriella did know the process. She’s the one who set it up.”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking about the ramifications. “I don’t think Gabriella wrote this letter,” she said slowly. “Her alter personality did.”
Jim stood. “Well, it doesn’t matter which personality wrote it or recorded the video. I’ve spoke to the Crown, and we’re meeting with the judge tomorrow morning. They’ll drop the charges against Derek.”
Sam stood and put on her jacket. “Jim, do you want us to look for her?”
He shook his head. “My job was to defend Derek and find evidence to acquit. Personally, I don’t care where his wife is or why she did this.”
“It’s the cops’ job to find her,” Reece said. “She’s committed fraud and obstruction of justice, at the least. If she isn’t in Canada, the RCMP will be lead.”
The letter bothered her. To Sam, it meant Gabriella had relinquished control to her alter personality, but maybe Gabriella had suspected she was losing control. Maybe she’d ensured that Gabriella LeBlanc had to sign the transfer documents. At the end, she may have tried to save Derek and expose her other personality. What if she was hoping someone would help her?
Jim was telling Reece, “Accounting will settle up, including the bonus. Good job on tracing the money and the rest of the work you did. Appreciate it.” He ushered them to the door. “Are we still on for Christmas Eve?”
Without answering, Reece said, “I have to run. See you later, Jim.” He shook Jim’s hand and left.
Sam watched him go. He hadn’t spoken a word to her. Same as usual over the past week since discovering she’d lied about her mother. Reece made sure he was out of the loft before she woke and didn’t come home until after she was asleep. He hadn’t debriefed her on the forensic financial investigator’s report. He’d sent it to Jim and left a copy on her desk at the office. It broke her heart.
“Sam? Christmas Eve?” Jim repeated.
“Sure, we’ll see you there.”
While she waited for the elevator alone, she wondered if she’d be spending Christmas with Reece at all.
&n
bsp; CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Sam
WHEN SHE RETURNED from Jim’s office, Reece wasn’t there. He didn’t come home until after two a.m. She spent the morning waiting for him to get up and worrying about how to talk to him. A few minutes ago, she’d heard the shower. She was pacing the living room in short, nervous strides waiting for him to come downstairs.
She was determined to talk to him and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He’d had enough time to work through the shock of discovering her deception about her mother. Jim had accidentally dropped the bomb eight days ago.
The case had taken most of their focus, but Sam knew Reece well enough to understand he never acted spontaneously. He took private time to process what hurt him and to sort out his feelings to ensure he was able to apply reason before reacting. Over the past week, she had respected that process, but their relationship was in serious trouble. If she didn’t take the initiative to open communications by acknowledging she’d hurt him, there was a good chance Reece would leave.
This whole mess was entirely her fault. She had to own what she’d done and try to explain her reasons, without sounding as if she was justifying or mitigating her lies. She loved him and had to get him to talk to her before it was too late.
He was coming downstairs when her phone rang. She planned to send the call to voicemail but saw it was Jim and answered, “Hi, how’d it go?”
Watching Reece from the corner of her eye, she listened to Jim. After he finished speaking, she said, “That’s great news. What’s Derek going to do now?”
She tried to get Reece’s attention to offer to put the call on speaker, but he turned his back and picked up a Gourmet Magazine.
With a sigh, she ended the call, walked over to Reece and stood in front of him, hoping he’d look at her.
“The charges were dropped.” She tried a smile that felt a little desperate.
He didn’t return her smile. “Obviously, since the woman’s not dead.” He sat on the sofa beside Brandy.
She ignored his belligerent tone. “Derek’s buying a law practice in Winnipeg. He wants to raise the kids out of the limelight. He also told Jim he should have seen how sick Gabriella was and tried to help her. He’s not going to look for her, says she deserves to be left alone. It sounds as if Derek blames himself.” She sat beside him on the sofa. “The thing that bothers me is I’m sure the alter personality wrote that letter and taped the video. Call it a hunch, I guess.”
He didn’t lift his eyes from the article in the magazine. “You’ve said a thousand times, PIs are paid to do a job, not to worry about justice. What difference does it make who or what she is?”
Sam patted Brandy’s head. “I never said I don’t care about justice,” she said. “I don’t know. Those diary entries are so full of rage.”
“What’s your point?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The alter personality wrote the diary. What if the alter did kill Gabriella’s sister? What if it’s dangerous?”
“There’s no proof that Isabella LeBlanc’s death was anything but an accident. Your father was on the scene. If your dad was suspicious, wouldn’t he investigate?”
“An investigation would disclose he was with Megan and his son,” she pointed out. “But, you’re right. If he’d suspected foul play, Dad would have done something. I feel… well, concerned, I guess.”
“It’s over and you have the money to finish your PhD.” He dropped the magazine on the table and walked to the kitchen.
Sam followed, leaning against the kitchen island and blocking his exit. “Reece, we need to talk about my mother.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is. My mother’s not a nice person, but I shouldn’t have lied to you. I was trying to avoid the whole thing because that’s what I do when I can’t handle something. It’s the way my mother raised me. Never talk about anything unpleasant, don’t share your feelings, and always pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. Deniability and avoidance are the tools I was taught.”
That sounded like justification. She didn’t blame him for not responding.
Trying again, she said, “I told you she was dead when we started dating because it was less complicated. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I don’t have a relationship with Grace, and I didn’t want you to try to force one on me.”
Great, that sounded like mitigation and blaming. Frustrated, she gathered her thoughts, realizing the best approach was the simplest: apologize. “I handled everything badly. I’m so sorry. You have every right to be upset and disappointed. Can we please talk about it?”
“I’m leaving tonight. I’m going to Uthisca. It’s best if you spend Christmas with Jim and Lisa. We can talk after the holidays,” he replied.
She exhaled in a gasp. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Why?” He held her eyes with no expression on his face.
“I love you, Reece.”
He didn’t move from the sink. “Yet you lie. You keep secrets. That’s not love.” His voice was ragged and he turned away. “I don’t know what we’re playing at here. You won’t marry me, and we don’t have the kind of future I want. I need commitment and honesty. I need to be able to share my life with someone.”
“That’s what I want, too. I know I’ve done a shitty job showing you. I know you deserve better but please don’t go. I do love you, Reece.”
When he turned, a glimmer of hope flashed across his face. She knew it wasn’t too late. Reece had a forgiving nature, and he still loved her. She could fix this. All it required was for her to move outside her comfort zone and be dead honest.
She took a deep breath. “I haven’t lied about anything else. I want to change and it’s because of you. You make me a better person.” She lowered her eyes. “You make me like myself.”
He took a step toward her, and she looked up and smiled at him. She loved Reece’s faith — his ability to forgive, process disappointment, and give the people he loved a second chance.
“Please stay. Please give me another chance. I promise you we do have a future,” she said.
“There can’t be any more lies, Sam.”
She crossed her heart. “I promise. Please forgive me?”
He paused but his answer was in his eyes. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “I forgive you,” he murmured against her hair.
She pulled away and held his eyes. “I have one more request.”
He looked puzzled. “What’s that?”
“Marry me.” Sam felt a wave of peace roll over her. She’d never been so sure of a choice in her life.
He stood motionless in front of her, his eyes searching hers. “What?”
“Please marry me.”
“You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Positive.” She laughed at his goofy grin. “On one condition,” she added quickly.
The happiness on his face faded. “What’s that?”
“You ask my stepfather, Harvey, for his blessing.”
Reece laughed. “At our age? You’re kidding.”
“No, he’ll get a kick out of that. In fact, he’ll love it. He’s old-school.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Besides, you have to meet your future mother-in-law. Strap on your seatbelt and amp up your courage, fiancé, you’re in for one hell of a wild ride.”
He lifted her feet from the ground and swung her around. “She can’t be that bad.”
“Oh boy,” Sam said with a laugh, “are you in for a surprise.”
EPILOGUE
February 2016: Northern Michigan
“EVERYTHING IS TAKEN care of,” Declan O’Reilly said to the woman in front of him. “Here is a copy of the deed and the rest of the legal documents.” He handed her the bulky manila envelope.
“You said when we met in April you were going back to Ireland,” she said.
He nodded. “Yours was the last real estate deal of my career. I’m going home to the Wee County. Th
at’s Louth,” he clarified. “Just in case you know the geography.”
The woman gazed through her wraparound sunglasses at the cabin. The brim of her baseball cap shadowed her face and hid most of her hair. He’d never had a good look at her, even when they’d met in April to discuss her desire to find remote property near the Keweenaw Peninsula. Her clothes were too bulky to determine her figure, but she was tall. She never took off the large dark glasses. She’d told him in April she had an eye condition.
Declan studied the cabin sitting in the middle of nowhere. After leaving the main road, it had taken over two hours to reach it. If it weren’t for the unseasonably warm temperatures, even with the powerful plow attached to his four-wheel-drive truck, they wouldn’t have reached the cabin at all.
“They’re forecasting a storm over the next few days,” he warned her. “There’s a snowmobile in the shed, and you can access town along the lake, but you gotta be careful. Lake Superior doesn’t freeze over.”
“I know. I lived here when I was a child,” she said.
Declan scratched his beard. To the best of his knowledge, no one had ever lived in the cabin. The Michigan Treasury Department had owned the unclaimed property for over thirty years. If she’d lived in the area, Declan supposed that was why she was so specific over what she was looking for when she contacted him in the spring. It wasn’t any of his business.
“There’s a new generator in the shed and lots of propane to run her. The structure is sound and I did basic repairs but—”
“You didn’t tell anyone about our transaction?” she interrupted.
He shook his head. “You said it was to be anonymous, and I respected your wishes.”
It was getting dark, and he wanted to be on the road. There was something strange about her that unnerved him. Declan was anxious to end their affiliation. Truth was he felt a bit afraid of the mysterious stranger.