Secrets of the Weeping Willow

by Kathleen Anastasia

  “It’s not exactly what it said, it’s what she referred to. She said that my father had given her a charm, and on that charm he had inscribed a message only she could see. I remember her showing me this as a child, she didn’t tell me whom it was from, but she showed me how to read the secret message. Then not long after that she had given me this.” Elizabeth said excitedly as she held up the sunflower charm. “I remember her being so serious when she had given it to me, telling me, that it was something that could not be lost, but must be kept close to my heart for all time, that the charm not only expressed her love for me, but could someday save my life. I, of course, at the time didn’t think much of it, but now.... I bet you, if we would do the same thing to this charm as my mother showed me on hers we would find a number-the account number.” Laughing, Elizabeth leaned forward taking Leo’s face between her hands so she can plant a big wet kiss on his lips. “Leo, you’re brilliant, my love.”

  Leo laughed, “You’re the one who remembered, not me.”

  “Yes. But you’re the one that reminded me to look below the surface.”

  Chapter 42

  Elizabeth rubbed her hands numb from the cold together in an attempt to get the blood circulation back, ,her eyes drawn to the impressive building across the street, her breath floating out in front of her in a cold mist.

  The stance reminded her of her earlier vision as the blistery wind picked up the light snow from the sidewalk to swirl it madly around her ankles. Her eyes were drawn to the side of the building where Leo stood at a newsstand to make sure Roger didn’t make an unexpected appearance. Elizabeth felt reassured with his presence.

  The account number was found where she felt it would be, buried among the leaves of the charm, which removed the last barrier, enabling her to uncover the rest of the secrets her mother had buried.

  Elizabeth was startled back to the job at hand when a shoulder brushed against hers, the street sign illuminating the walk signal. She followed the crowd of people across to the bank indicated in her mother’s letter, the rotating doors leading her into its warmth, a strong sense of deja vu struck, a feeling she was becoming familiar with ever since her memory had started to return.

  She looked around the interior of the bank, which had kept the aura from an earlier time, except now, glass was replaced where iron bars may have been. Elizabeth quickened her steps when she noted the information desk placed in front of business offices behind glass walls. Elizabeth paused in front of a girl around her age with black hair cut short and chic, accenting her high cheekbones and small nose ,as a smile came easily to her full red lips. “Hello. May I help you?” She asked, her voice husky.

  “Yes. My name is Julia Willows. I have an appointment with a Mr. Wilson.” Elizabeth said in what she hoped was a confident manner as she used the fake name her mother had given her in the letter.

  “One moment please.” The young girl said as she picked up the phone, a frown marring her forehead as she looked over at Elizabeth’s jaw, her eyes then quickly look away but not before Elizabeth saw a look of pity fill her eyes. Elizabeth pulled the scarf higher up on her face, unconsciously touching the bruise she had worked so hard to cover that morning, knowing what it must look like. She took in a deep breath to calm her racing heart, her fingers gripping the newly made fake documents in her pocket and not believing she was actually doing this. Her life unrecognizable from just a few short weeks ago, she was surprised how quickly she found herself adapting to the constant adrenaline rush.

  She still couldn’t believe that she was even in a situation that required her to obtain forged documents, who would of thought, that she would be seeing someone that knew someone that could even do this sort of thing? They had gone to the expert counterfeiter as soon as they arrived in the city, Leo driving them to the east side where the buildings were boarded and rundown, graffiti artfully painted along the walls. The streets and sidewalks almost deserted of all life, which had made Elizabeth even more nervous than she had been originally when Leo had told her what they were doing as she wondered what everyone was hiding from.

  They had stopped at a building as bad as the one next door, an apprehension filling her as she asked Leo again if this was really a good idea. Her imagination running away with her as she saw a squad of police surrounding the building and breaking down the door just as she was handed her illegal documents. Expressing her fears to Leo, he had laughed as he reassured her nothing was going to happen to them.

  She had also pointed out to him that the bank manager might be trained to recognize fake documents. Leo had then smiled in his patient way, which by the way pissed her off, and again reassured Elizabeth that his contact was the best of the best; his documents infallible to expert inspection.

  A hand on her arm startled Elizabeth back from her thoughts as she looked over to an older gentleman who wore a grey suit with a red bow tie. His hair cut short, peppered with grey, his look as vaguely familiar to her as the building. Elizabeth looked down to his hand reaching out to her, his voice soft spoken as he introduced himself.

  Smiling, Elizabeth reached out her own to shake his firmly, “Hi. I hope I’m not too early?”

  His eyes twinkled as he shook his head negatively, “I always say better early than late.”

  “Yes, that is what my mother always taught me.”

  “Well, come. Come. My office is right over here. I was able to pull forward all the documents that are essential for us to proceed.”

  Elizabeth nodded as she followed him, his back slightly hunched forward from age, rounding his shoulders. His had an impressive office at the end of the hall. His hand indicated the seat in front of the desk, which flanked a row of windows that displayed the spring storm picking up momentum. He stepped around the desk to sit at a high backed black leather office chair, his eyes then drawn back up to her. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, the minutes seemed long as she cleared her throat self-consciously. She wondered if he could tell that she was a fraud, this act a farce of confidence. Mr. Wilson lifted his hand in apology, “I’m sorry. I must be staring. You just look so much like your mother. She was a stunningly beautiful woman also.”

  Elizabeth laughed at her own paranoia, as what he said sank in, her stomach twisted in excitement with the knowledge he knew her mother. Her mind still hungry for any new information, she found herself excited that there was someone in front of her who had known her mother, any piece of information about her invaluable to Elizabeth. Besides, her worries about the fake documents almost evaporated, knowing he wouldn’t look as closely to her paperwork. “You knew my mother then?”

  “Oh, not personally. But I was the one that helped her when she set up this account, eleven or was it twelve years ago. It doesn’t matter I suppose. I can still remember the day you both walked through that door.” He paused as he leaned back, his smile sad as he continued, “There was a quiet dignity to your mother, with a bit of sadness in her eyes. But it was you that haunted me for years. Your eyes reflected a sort of sadness and wisdom that far exceeded your age. I remember wondering what happened to you both that would create such sadness...” his words falling off as he looked off, then he shook it as he looked back over with a small smile. “Anyways, I know it is none of my business. But, how is your mother by the way?”

  Elizabeth felt a sharp pang of sadness fill her at the question. “She has passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. Elizabeth heard the genuine sympathy in his voice.

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth said with a small smile. But, if you don’t mind, I would rather not talk about it. It’s still hard.”

  “I understand,” he said as he gathered up some papers from the corner of his desk. “I’m sorry I got so personal, I didn’t mean to upset you in any way.”

  Elizabeth smiled reassuringly, as she shrugged off the comment. “You haven’t.”

  “Let’s get started then. First things first
, I’ll need to see a form of ID before we get started.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said as she pulled out her passport. Her eyes watched him wearily as she held an anticipated breath, only letting it out silently when he handed her fake documents back to her.

  An almost proud look came over his face when he looked back up, “I just want to let you know that your accounts have grown considerably over the years.”

  Confused, Elizabeth leaned forward, “You mentioned accounts over the phone, so you did mean more than one account? I wasn’t sure, my mother passed away before she could give me all the details.”

  “Yes. Yes. Three accounts to be exact.”

  Elizabeth attempted to disguise her excitement, but found it near to impossible as she leaned forward to rest her arms on her crossed legs. “My mother had told me about the safe deposit box she had rented.” Elizabeth said as she lifted the chain around her neck to show him the key. “But she failed to mention any types of accounts.”

  He smiled as he nodded, “Well, she started them for you specifically. She must have wanted to surprise you. I’ll go over the figures with you, then we can head over to your vault and the box she had rented out.” He said as he reached over to the computer that rested on the corner of this desk. “Lets see now…I thought we could start with this account, which was mainly set up for maintenance of your expenses. Which includes the safety deposit box, taxes on the house in New Orleans, etc, etc. Then this account....” Mr. Wilson looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. “Well. Come closer and I’ll show you what’s in this account.” He said as he indicated for her to move closer to the desk, turning his monitor so she could see what he was looking at on the screen.

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide at the amount across the bottom. “You have to be kidding me.” She said with an astonished laugh. “Am I on candid camera or something?.” She joked as she looked around the office. “This amount can’t be real?” Mentally counting the zeros as a bubble of laughter crept up, never having seen this amount of money in her life. She covered her mouth as a giggle escaped, unable to suppress her excitement. “Are you trying to tell me that this isn’t a joke? That all those zeros are actually mine? That I’m pretty much set for the rest of my life?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Wilson said with a chuckle.

  “Oh my God,” Elizabeth said, her words laced with shock as she stood to walk over to the windows, her mind numb. She looked beyond the spring storm that raged outside the window unable to fully comprehend that she was a multi-million heir.

  Is this what her mother meant in her letter...wait her mother’s letter. Roger’s face came to mind. Her joy quickly evaporated, realizing that this is most likely why Roger was so frantic about getting what her mother had taken.

  She wondered what her mother had done to get so much money. No, what had she been thinking to take such a large amount of money from a mad man such as Roger? Didn’t she realize he would search high and low to retrieve what she took? Of course she would, Elizabeth thought as anger toward her mother grew, clouding any rational thoughts, not understanding why she would put such a large target on their backs.

  Elizabeth exhaled in frustration, in an effort to steer her mind from the negative turn it had taken. She needed to clear her thoughts so she could rationalize what her mother was thinking, knowing she had most likely been trying to give to her what she had never had-security. So she never would have to do what her mother did. So she could survive. Her mother never did have the love and stability that she had found. Therefore, she wouldn’t know.... know what? That taking this amount of money would royally piss Roger

  Off-hell yes, she knew this. She was remembering enough about her mother to know this.

  But, the letter... the letter said that all that she would find in the account would be clean. What did her mother mean about clean? Laundry clean? Remembering a remark Roger had made once when she was younger and he didn’t think she was listening. He had said to her mother that the money would be laundered, so it was so clean and pure the authorities would be none the wiser. Elizabeth had thought it so strange that she had asked her mother later that night why Roger wanted to wash their money. Her mother had laughed as she said it was a grown up thing, and maybe someday she would explain. Could this be what her mother meant? Because now, she knew what laundering the money meant: That the money was stolen but filtered through legitimate means to make it appear clean and unsoiled. How she knew this’ it was unclear to her, she just did. She blew out her breath once more knowing that she needed more time to sort it all out. But before that, she needed to stop Roger before it was too late. She needed to get to the box that held her security, according to her mother, knowing she had to stop this madness before it took all that she held dear.

  Elizabeth turned back around to face the bank manager once more, her hand shaking slightly from all that she was learning so quickly. The letter she had found under the Weeping Willow filled her thoughts, she needed to know what it had all meant. “May I see the safe deposit box now?”

  A look of shock crossed his face at her abrupt change of direction. “Of course,” he said simply, his voice followed suit dropping into a professionally neutral tone.

  “Good,” Elizabeth said, her head light with all the suppressed emotions she was swallowing to finish what had been started so many years ago. Her heels crisp on the floor as she followed him out into the hall and down the corridor to the back of the bank, where he opened a couple of different barred gates with a key on his belt. The gates lead into a room of steel boxes along a wall, only identified by numbers, with a large oblong table in the center. Elizabeth stood behind him as he opened the box labeled 242; his key turned smoothly, his hand indicating for Elizabeth to insert her own key into the lock next to his. The release of the lock echoed in the quiet, sterile room.

  He then pulled the oblong box out of the labeled slot to place it on the table just behind him. “Your key will also unlock the box from here. When you’re done, just lock it back up and we can take care of the rest. Just let the security guard know.”

  Not being able to look away from the steel box, Elizabeth nodded in understanding. Barely registering his footsteps as they faded into the distance, only jumping slightly when the bar doors clanged close, it momentarily reminded her of a jail cell; not that she had ever been in one, but.... her thoughts then going to the vision she had of bars. Wondering if she had come with her mother to this very place to place what she was about to uncover. Elizabeth shook the thought away as she turned her focus back to the box.

  Her steps hesitant as she stepped over to the steel box, the wood chair hard as she sat in front of it; her fingertips brushed the top of it as she thought of all the secrets it held. The unknown held an almost seductive power over her as she lifted the chain off her neck, the key warm from her skin as she slide it slowly off its gold keeper. She brushed the metal with her lips just before she reached forward to insert the small silver key into the slot. Satisfaction filled her when it turned easily, her breath released in a rush. She chuckled softly, her heart in her throat as she realized she was about to uncover either her future or Pandora’s box, not sure which.

  The long rectangular lid covered almost the entire top, except for a small section still hidden from sight; the edges sharp and cold against her hands. Elizabeth gently lets it fall back against the table, not wanting to disturb whatever there was to disturb. She sat back, wanting to hold on to the illusion of a happily ever after, a moment longer. Knowing that what she was about to find could expose Roger for who he really was but in the doing so could also shatter any remaining illusions of her mother’s innocence.

  Elizabeth reached in, her hand pulling out the few items that where there. Surprised and slightly disappointed with what little there was to be found, the contents in front of her comprised of a VHS tape, a simple business envelope addressed simply, ‘Your father, my love,’ and a manila office envelop
e.

  Curious, she opened the manila envelope first, dumping out several newspaper articles. She frowned in confusion as she skimmed through them, the clippings referring to several murders committed over a multiple years span. Her eyes began scanning the information in front of her until her heart dropped as bile rose in her throat, the contents taking hold of her mind, the room closed in slowly with the knowledge. She was bewildered why her mother would keep this type of information locked so tight. The last few articles mentioned the arrest of a local Seattle man, James Funk, for the violent murder spree including a picture of a man huddled between several guards covering the front page.

  Elizabeth knew what the articles hinted at, but she found herself unable to admit what it signified, then the last article among them all, shattered all disillusions when it showed a man with chiseled features and dark brown hair staring intently into the camera. His eyes cold, the caption beneath, capitalized and underlined, Serial Killer Escaped.

  The eyes...they seemed to jump out of the paper into her soul. The features were different from what she knew but the eyes were the same. They were Roger’s eyes. She could never mistake them for another as they stared through the badly reprinted picture, seeming to taunt society to catch what it could not hold. Elizabeth dropped the picture as if it burnt her, her eyes looking away from the offensive face.

  Elizabeth covered her mouth to suppress the scream she felt bubbling in her throat, her other hand reaching forward to pick up the last piece of paper that had fallen from the envelope. The paper folded neatly, Elizabeth slowly unfolded it to expose the contents it held which showed the results of a DNA report stating that the person tested was indeed 99.9% a match to sample given. Her eyes then drawn to the bottom of the letter that held a couple of names, but Elizabeth knew before she even read what it had to say. The paper dropped from her numb fingers as if it held a dangerous toxin that would harm her if held too long. Tears filled her eyes, as she now understood the true reason for Roger’s obsession to get back what her mother had taken from him.