The Stolen Identity (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  “It can’t be that hard,” Colt muttered. “You’re a good-looking guy with a passable sense of humor. You’re a neurosurgeon in one of Sydney’s most prestigious hospitals and I’m led to believe you’re rather good at your job. What are you doing wrong, bro?”

  “It isn’t that easy, Colt and you know it. After all, it’s taken you all this time to realize Morgan O’Brien is darn near perfect and you even knew her from before. What hope have I got? I don’t have the kind of time it takes to weed out the good from the bad and like I said to you before, I seem to have gathered a bit of a reputation for not playing for keeps. You must be influencing me subconsciously. Some days, it feels easier to forget about it and just get on with saving lives.”

  Beau’s sigh was over dramatic, but Colt’s mind had snagged on something else. “What do you mean Morgan’s darn near perfect? Do you think…? Do you think she’s my forever girl?”

  “What, are you blind? Do you have a brain at all between those ears? Of course she’s your forever girl! I thought she was ten years ago, but for some reason, the two of you parted ways. I wasn’t at all surprised to see her at the party last night. I knew you’d end up together again.”

  “Did you talk to her?” Colt asked.

  “No, apart from saying hello. The girls had her tied up for most of the night. Then you left so abruptly… All I’m saying is, don’t let her get away. You connect with her in a way I’ve never seen you do with any other girl. She’s smart, pretty and she has substance. It’s an uncommon combination. I think she’s a keeper, bro, but I guess that’s for you to decide.”

  * * *

  Morgan stood on the porch outside her father’s house, a suitcase in either hand. She should have called ahead, warned Uncle Leslie she was moving in, but she hadn’t thought about it. After waking that morning and realizing Colt had already left, the only thing she wanted to do was pack up her things and get out of there.

  She’d called a cab and had arrived at Butler Street without giving it too much thought. And here she was, hoping her uncle wouldn’t mind a guest for a handful of days. It wouldn’t be longer than that. She had to be back at work in five days. She only hoped her father would be home before then.

  She wished for the hundredth time that she knew where he was. He’d told her in the email she’d received yesterday that after Darwin he was ready to head back home. She hadn’t heard from him since, but her hopes were high that he was well and truly on his way. If all went well, she expected him either that day or the next.

  Still, there was nothing she could do at the moment except knock on her father’s door. She wasn’t prepared to spend another night at Colt’s place and the thought of hiding out in a hotel room was worse – if she could find one. She wanted her dad. She missed him so much. She needed to be surrounded by his things. Uncle Leslie was the next best thing.

  Taking a breath, Morgan rapped on the panel beside the screen door and waited. The house was quiet and still. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten. Surely he wasn’t still sleeping? Maybe he was a little hard of hearing? She remembered the last time she’d called on him unannounced, it had taken him awhile to answer the door.

  She knocked again and called out and a moment later, was rewarded with the sound of footsteps. The door opened and her uncle greeted her with a friendly smile.

  “Morgan! How lovely to see you! What brings you around this fine sunny morning?”

  She stepped forward and pecked him on a grizzled cheek and breathed in the familiar scent of her father.

  “Uncle Leslie, I’m sorry to arrive like this, but I need somewhere to stay. Do you mind if I spend a few days with you?”

  “Of course, honey!” he said with a smile. “I’d love to spend more time with my niece!”

  He reached down and took her largest suitcase and then headed back into the house. “Come in, come in. I was just about to have a cup of tea.”

  Taking hold of her other bag, she followed him.

  “I’ll put your things in your old room,” he offered. “That way you’ll feel right at home.”

  She threw him a grateful smile, thankful he hadn’t peppered her with questions. “It will only be for a few days, I promise,” she said and followed him down the hall.

  “Stay as long as you want, honey. After all, this is your home.”

  “Thank you, Uncle. Your kindness means a great deal. As soon as Dad gets back, I’ll be sure to tell him how lovely you’ve been to me.”

  Her uncle opened the door to her old room and set the suitcase on the floor. Morgan was pleased to see it looked almost like it always had, although the heavy, antique oak dresser that had stood under the window for as long as she could remember was gone.

  She frowned and looked more closely around the room. Two matching, limited edition Peter Schuster prints that had hung over the bed were also missing. She couldn’t understand why. Her father had mentioned nothing about the changes. What was going on? Was he that short of money that he had to sell some of their things? Why hadn’t he said anything? She was determined to have a full and frank discussion with him when he returned.

  “I’m sure you know where everything is,” her uncle said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine and thank you for letting me stay.”

  He opened his arms expansively. “Like I said, this is your home. You don’t have to ask permission, and especially not from me.”

  She was touched by his humility and thanked him once again. It was such a shame she hadn’t met him earlier. She was sure they would have been close. Still, she had an opportunity now to make up for lost time and staying under the same roof would be even more conducive to that.

  “Do you fancy a cup of tea, honey? I put the kettle on not long ago.”

  “Thank you, uncle. A cup of tea sounds lovely.”

  He led the way into the kitchen and Morgan followed him. It was the first time in a long time since she’d been all the way into the room. She looked around and noted other little changes.

  There was an empty ashtray on the small table that took up most of the space in the cozy breakfast nook. As her father didn’t smoke, she could only assume it belonged to her uncle. She hoped he hadn’t been smoking in the house. Her dad hated the smell of smoke. It was one thing the twins didn’t have in common.

  A new rug, slightly askew, ran half the length of the galley kitchen. Its garish colors and cheap quality seemed out of place with the other tasteful, expensive pieces of furniture that filled the room. She wondered when her dad had bought it and why. It was so not his style.

  He loved the polished floorboards that comprised most of the rooms in the house. It was only in the bedrooms that he’d made a concession to the winter chill and had laid carpet. Over the years, Morgan had complained lightheartedly that he needed some floor rugs; that her feet always got too cold. The next time she visited, she was surprised and touched to discover her dad had arranged for in-floor heating to be installed.

  “Here you go.”

  Her uncle handed her a cup that was filled with black tea. She murmured her thanks and took it from him. “Where shall we sit?” she asked.

  “How about just here,” he replied and headed for the breakfast nook.

  Her glance strayed again to the ashtray. Her uncle noticed the direction of her gaze. He jerked to a halt and then threw her an embarrassed look. Hastily reaching for the ashtray, he shoved it in the pocket of his pants.

  “Sorry. Filthy habit. I really should give it up.”

  She forced a smile. “Yes, you should. Your body will thank you for it. It’s never too late to quit.”

  “You sound like the last doctor I attended,” her uncle chuckled. “It was the middle of winter, a couple of years back. I had such a bad chest, I thought I was going to die.”

  “Perhaps you should have listened to him,” she said lightly.

  He eyed her curiously. “What is it that you do, Morgan?”

  “I’m a nurse at the S
ydney Harbour Hospital.”

  His eyes gleamed with understanding. “Ah, now the comment about quitting makes even more sense.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, the wards are filled with far too many people with chronic diseases that have been caused by smoking. Quitting’s a far better option, and cheaper, too.” She smiled again in an effort to soften her words.

  “So, you like living in Sydney?” her uncle asked, leaning forward, lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip of tea.

  “Yes, I do. It’s very different from life in the country, as I’m sure you’ll agree. You were living in Sydney before you came looking for my dad, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, although I’m not sure I’d call it living. Existing’s probably a better word. I left home a long time ago and moved around a lot. I’ve lived rough without a roof over my head for more nights than I care to remember.”

  He glanced at Morgan who felt a renewed sense of sadness when she considered the life her uncle had led.

  He shrugged deprecatingly. “Don’t feel sorry for me, honey. It was what it was. We can’t all be born lucky.”

  Like her dad…

  He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to. She could see it in the shadows that darkened his eyes and in the hint of anger that tightened his jaw. She thought of her conversation with Georgie and for the first time considered if her uncle could harbor feelings of resentment toward her dad.

  She understood his reaction, if he did. It must hurt to know that his twin had not only been raised by his parents, but had been lavished with love and other material blessings throughout his life – the kind of things her uncle had never known…

  “So, tell me, Morgan. Do you have your own place in Sydney?”

  “Yes. I’ve been lucky. Dad helped me get into a one-bedroom condo in Bondi. It’s small, but it’s in a nice complex and I have a view of the beach.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  Her uncle bestowed a beatific smile upon her and sipped from his cup again. Setting it back down on the saucer, he sighed with contentment.

  “It’s such a beautiful day outside. It seems a shame to waste it indoors. Would you like to go for a walk? You could tell me all about that boyfriend of yours and why you’ve turned up on my doorstep. I take it you had an argument; is that it?”

  Morgan felt a stab of surprise. “Colt’s not my boyfriend. We knew each other years ago. We…used to date a long time ago.”

  “Ah, so he is a boyfriend, just not a current one. It looked to me that he was still very much interested, the way he hovered over you that first night. I assumed you were a couple. He seemed very protective.”

  “Yes, well, he’s a detective. I think they’re born that way,” Morgan replied dryly, unwilling to pay any heed to what her uncle thought he sensed. After all, he barely knew her and he didn’t know Colt at all.

  Her uncle said nothing, but threw her a knowing look. She grimaced and lowered her gaze. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable discussing her love life with a man she’d only just met, uncle or no uncle. But he appeared oblivious to her reservations. Pushing away from the table, he picked up his cup and headed toward the exit.

  “Come on, let’s take a walk. You can bring your tea with you. I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right with you. Just as soon as I straighten this rug. It’s been annoying me from the moment I spotted it. Hold on a moment, I’ll be right there.”

  Morgan stood and walked into the kitchen. Her uncle headed out the door. Bending low, she took hold of the fringed end of the rug. Up close, it was even more hideous. Giving it a tug, she frowned when it remained firmly in place. Tugging harder, she realized it had been nailed into place.

  How curious… She couldn’t imagine why her dad would fix a rug permanently to his floor. It was downright strange. Just another anomaly in a list of unusual things that were beginning to pile up…

  It had to be a brain tumor. It was the only thing that made sense. Her father had an inoperable tumor taking over his head. It was the reason so many things were out of kilter and why from the very first moment she returned home, she’d felt strange.

  The sad conclusion weighed like concrete in her belly. The very thought of losing her beloved father way before his time was almost something she couldn’t cope with and so, with a determined effort, she pushed it aside. She refused to think about it another moment. She’d wait for him to return and set her mind at ease. Until then, she’d enjoy the time with her uncle. If her theory about her dad’s health status was right, before too long her uncle might be the only family she had.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Leslie held the front door open for Morgan and waited for her to precede him. The faint scent of her perfume wafted toward him. She was a beautiful woman, full of confidence and charm. He could see why the young detective was all in a lather about her. He wondered what had driven Morgan out of his arms and into her uncle’s domain. Well, into her father’s – at least technically… Soon all that would change.

  His plan had been masterful and had gone almost as smoothly as he’d imagined. He’d overcome Rex’s initial reservations and within days of Leslie’s arrival, the two of them were fast friends. On the surface, at least.

  Leslie had no intention of befriending his long lost brother. From the moment he’d learned the truth surrounding the circumstances of his birth, he’d been livid with rage. It was unfortunate his biological parents were no longer of this world. It meant that the only one left to take the brunt of his anger was his twin. And rightly so. After all, the man had been given everything – parents who loved him unreservedly, an illustrious career, a very comfortable life. It wasn’t fair and someone had to pay. Too bad for Rex, he was the first and only person in line…until now.

  Within days of his arrival, he’d disposed of his long lost brother and had set about turning himself into the upstanding Rex O’Brien. He’d cut his hair in the style favored by his twin, took to wearing his shoes and clothes and other accessories. He even used the man’s cologne. In the short time they’d been together, Rex had told him about his daughter, Morgan. Leslie had been lucky to notice the girl’s birthday marked on the calendar and had sent her a birthday card, in an effort to maintain the charade.

  But then he’d screwed up over the anniversary of her mother’s death and the next thing he knew, Rex’s daughter was standing on his doorstep. His plan to steal his brother’s identity had to undergo a change.

  So, he’d turned his attention to Rex’s laptop. It was easy enough to guess his brother’s password. It had only taken two tries. From then, it had been simple enough to put Morgan off the scent by sending her emails from her dad, assuring her that everything was all right. Pretty soon – probably tonight – he’d send her another explaining that her “dad” had been caught up in a monsoon. It was wet season in the tropics, after all, and last Morgan knew, her father was headed for Darwin…

  Leslie hadn’t planned on killing his niece, but now it seemed like a much more fitting end to what he’d once thought was the perfect plan. Morgan was a liability and she simply knew too much. And now that he’d stumbled across a copy of Rex’s will… There was nothing else for it. Both O’Briens needed to meet with premature deaths.

  Leslie had spent some time planning how they’d occur. Rex’s death was easy. After all, everyone knew he’d gone away. It wasn’t beyond reason that he might die on the road. The people of Armidale would be saddened to hear their friend and long-term member of the community had passed away. Leslie would make sure the townspeople knew his brother had died doing what he’d always wanted to do: visiting the outback, creating some memories, experiencing the Australian bush.

  He was sure no one would ask too many questions. After all, elderly people went missing and died in the outback all the time. Okay, maybe not all the time, but it happened. People underestimated the isolation and the long distances between towns and fuel stops. Unaccustomed to the
harsh conditions, it was easy for them to succumb to the heat and vast emptiness, get confused, dehydrated, wander off…never to be seen again.

  Morgan’s death was a little trickier, but now that he knew she owned an expensive property, he was eager to see it done. With both Rex and Morgan out of the way, he was the closest living relative. He’d inherit everything in his own right. Life didn’t get any sweeter.

  All he had to do was make sure he got the timing right. It was imperative she die before her father, or at least, before her father’s death became known. That way, Rex would inherit from his daughter and the whole lot would come to Leslie upon his brother’s sad and unfortunate end.

  It was a perfect plan and fitting revenge against the man who had lived so long with everything Leslie didn’t have. The best thing was, he was well on the way to seeing it to fruition. The gods had been looking down on him that morning when Morgan stumbled into his lair.

  He wondered again how he might do it. Rat poison would probably do the trick. There were boxes of it in the shed. He’d seen them there. Yes, he’d bake her a cake and lace it with poison. If he got the dosage right and made sure she ate enough, her death was as good as guaranteed. And after all, it had been her birthday only a few weeks ago. He’d made sure he’d sent her a card. He bet she hadn’t had a cake and everyone deserved a cake on their birthday… Didn’t they?

  * * *

  Colt stared at the screen on his phone where it sat so innocently on his desk and swallowed a lump of nerves. For the past twenty minutes, he’d been trying to scrounge up the courage to call Morgan. He’d replayed his conversation with Beau over and over again in his head and had finally accepted that it was time to put aside his cowardice and get on with living his life – a life he very much wanted Morgan O’Brien to be a part of.