by Rita Hogan
Hearing the longing in her voice nearly caused him to cave.
“Temptress,” he said with a groan. “Why do you think I sent you back to Argentina?”
“If I returned to Chile, I could get my own roo . . .”
“No,” he said quietly.
There were several moments of silence. “I’m making this difficult for you, aren’t I?
“Very difficult.”
“I’m sorry. Will you come see me as soon as you arrive on Saturday?”
Should he tell her now that they needed to talk; prepare the way?
“When I enter the elevator at the Grand Vue Saturday morning, your floor will be the first button I push.”
* * *
After saying goodbye to Landon, she was once again faced with the black bag resting on her coffee table. Unable to open the sturdy leather case, Brooke shoved it into the hall closet and took a cab to downtown Bariloche. She strolled by the museum, smiling at the memory of the night she had spent there with Landon. She paused to stare at the old building before making her way to the all-night café they had stopped at afterwards.
Finding a seat, she placed her order with the waitress. From her purse, she removed the journal she had purchased earlier from the gift shop. Glancing up at the acoustic guitarist who was playing in the corner of the restaurant, she remembered the night in Chile when she and Landon danced for hours. She opened the leather-bound book.
Talking with Landon earlier stirred within her an incredible urge to write about every thought and emotion, and all the events that took place from the moment she awoke from the accident. The thought of ever forgetting what she felt for him drove her to fill the pages.
Dear Sweet Landon,
The moment I opened my eyes in the hospital and saw you standing there, I didn’t remember who you were, but I knew you were safe. It was if my mind was blank, but my heart was full of you. Since that moment, it has been overflowing with your goodness . . .
Several hours later, Brooke looked up to a nearly empty café. She looked at her watch. It was one in the morning. She hadn’t stopped writing since she sat down around dinner time. After asking the waitress to call for a cab, Brooke closed her journal, left a very generous tip on the table for taking it up the whole night, and made her way back to the hotel.
The next morning she finished the last of her entries, the pages full of her thoughts and expressions of love for Landon. She took the gift-wrapped book to Landon’s assistant, Camilla, telling the older woman it was a surprise, and asked her to tuck it away somewhere safe—a place where he would stumble upon it, making the surprise all the sweeter.
When Gaston was finished with work that evening, she rode with him to his house for dinner. Spending time with Landon’s family helped her not to miss him as much. He called shortly after dinner. Brooke placed him on speaker so everyone could say hello. Her heart melted when Isabella told him how much she missed him and Nicholas gave an excited “me too!” Such a wonderful family, she thought on the ride home. She hoped one day they would belong to her too.
Gaston had insisted on driving her back to the resort. She vehemently refused, urging him to call her a cab. It was late, and the drive to and from the hotel would take Landon’s brother-in-law an hour. He reluctantly agreed to do as she wished.
As she put away her coat in the hall closet of her room, she spied the black bag. Deciding she could no longer put it off, she placed it on the dining table in the corner of her room. After changing into her pajamas, she began to empty the contents: a notebook, a thumb drive, and a cell phone was all the bag contained.
Picking up the cell phone first, she pressed the on button. When nothing happened, she realized the battery must be depleted. It was identical to the one she carried with her. Using her cord, she connected the phone, allowing it to recharge.
The small notebook contained odd numbers and what appeared to be a pass phrase. The concern she was beginning to feel ignited. What was so important about these three items that she felt compelled to lock them away? Picking up the thumb drive she pushed it into one of the USB ports on her laptop. A password screen appeared. Opening the notebook she entered the combination of alpha and numeric values and pressed enter.
At first, Brooke was dazed by the number of files. She clicked on the first file labeled Absolution. It was an article on the launching of Landon’s cruise ship. There was a picture of him as he broke a bottle of champagne against the bow. Natasha was standing beside him. The next file was one of him and his family: a Christmas card photo of Landon, Natasha, and his parents. It was before his sister had married Gaston.
Bile began to rise in her throat. What were all these files? Had she known Landon before arriving in Patagonia? She closed her eyes, searching her mind but found nothing but darkness. Why had she kept these hidden? Reaching for the cell phone that was charging, she clicked the on button. The screen lit up with a passcode option. Remembering the one for her phone, she entered zero, eight, one, two, zero, three. Access was granted. The first thing to appear was a call log. There was one missed call. Brooke dropped the phone on the table when she recognized the caller’s number. It was hers. The date of the message was the day she was released from the hospital. Memories of her and Landon sitting on the bed in his guest bedroom while she agonized over having only one known contact in the world filled her mind.
Standing, she went to her purse to retrieve her phone, and dialed the only contact number on file, Melissa Clark with the Ice Project. Brooke began to shake when the other device rang. Why would the only contact on her cell belong to one she already owned, locked away in a bank safety deposit box? Angered by her lack of memory and her mounting concerns, Brooke flung the phone from the black bag against the door of her room, smashing it to pieces.
Like the phone, the small beautiful world she had known for such a short time lay shattered around her. She forced herself to look at the rest of the damning files. Her mind raced as she read the instructions on how to load the Trojan horse onto Landon’s computer. When triggered, it would release a cache of data linking him to a series of thefts from many of NLG’s long time investors. During the investigation an offshore account in the Cayman Islands, worth millions, would be discovered. No one would ever know the money wasn’t real.
Long after Landon was tried, sentenced, and serving time in jail, the money would be released from evidence with the intent of returning it to its rightful owners. The moment a transaction was processed against the account, the data would implode. No one would be able to explain the sudden disappearance of the funds and all traces that it ever existed. It would take months for anyone to prove that Landon Gray was innocent, months that he would spend in prison, his reputation forever ruined.
“Why?” she screamed at the walls of her elegant room. Pulling the thumb drive from the computer, she reached for the notebook, then the broken pieces of the cell phone, and threw them all into the gas fireplace. With a flip of a switch, she watched the damning items catch blaze and burn.
Her heart melted into a pool of agony as she watched the flames consume her treachery. For the first time, she knew what Landon had felt like when he no longer wanted to live. Speaking to the fire, she said, “Oh, Landon, how wretched must I be to plot against you in such a way. You who are kind, gentle, and forgiving. Your generous heart shames me. The ghosts in my mind were right—I don’t deserve you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Landon was frantic. It was an hour before the funeral, and he hadn’t heard from Brooke. He had been calling her all morning and afternoon with no answer. Unable to push aside his concern any longer, he called Gaston on his cell phone.
“Landon, how are you?”
“Gaston, I’ve been trying to reach Brooke all day and she hasn’t answered. Have you seen her?”
“Not since last night at dinner. Do you want me to go to her room to make sure she is all right?”
“Yeah. If she is there, please ask her to call me, and let me kn
ow if you speak to her.”
Twenty minutes later Gaston called Landon. “Hey, Brooke has been in her room all day because she’s not feeling well. She looked like hell and told me to tell you that she would see you tomorrow when you get back from Chile.”
“At least she’s in her room. Thanks, Gaston.”
When Landon hung up the phone, the odd feeling that something was wrong took hold. He couldn’t shake the sensation. Needing to hear Olivia’s voice, but not wanting to disturb her, he stopped calling and made his way to the church.
Celia had decided on an early evening funeral service with the wake directly following. Immediate family would attend the sunrise burial in the morning. The service was heartbreaking. Seeing Javier’s children in the front row with their mother, their tender hearts filled to overflowing with sorrow, caused him to realize how close he had come to doing the same thing to his family. Natasha had been right to rage at him for being a coward. Knowing his and Javier’s situation, he could honestly say they were both cowards.
He stayed for the whole wake. In spite of the grief, there was a lot of laughter. Javier really had been a good man in many ways. Whatever reasons Javier had for cheating on his wife were lost on Celia. Either that or she was a brilliant actress. She spoke wonderfully about her deceased husband. It was obvious to everyone that he treated her well. Was it possible for a man to love two women? Inwardly, he shook his head. When you loved someone as Landon loved Olivia, it was inconceivable.
Olivia, he thought with longing. Why hadn’t she at least answered the phone to let him know she was ill?
His concern grew because he knew tomorrow would be the day he would tell her who she really was. When he did, she would be dazed and confused, but she would embrace him, and the love she held in her heart would guide her toward accepting the truth. Landon’s hopeful thinking helped to push aside the doubt that niggled at him from the back of his mind.
* * *
Brooke hadn’t lied to Gaston: she was in agony. Her heart felt like it had been literally ripped in two. She had paced the living room floor most of the night trying to convince herself that she was worthy of Landon’s love, that she wasn’t the person those files portrayed her to be. Unable to reconcile the person that she was, she had convinced herself that she needed to leave Patagonia forever. At every turn the thought of leaving Landon crushed her spirit into a million pieces. How would she live without him?
The files were gone, destroyed forever. He never needed to know. She would forget that she once had a life before him, and work with him to build the one he had promised. Brooke would shower him with all of her love and affection; she was already completely devoted to him.
She would know. The truth of her treachery would stand between them like a wedge. How long would she be able to live with herself, knowing what she had set out to do to him? Brooke could tell Landon everything. He would forgive her as he had forgiven Javier. His love for her was true, but was it strong enough? Brooke thought about Olivia Nelson. If Landon loved Jacob’s sister, then how fully did he really love her? How true could his love for her be if his affections were divided?
Brooke didn’t remember collapsing onto her bed in a state of exhaustion. She only remembered the last thought running through her mind: Landon would be home tomorrow and she would ask him about Olivia. If he admitted to loving her after all of these years, she would leave. If he convinced Brooke that he only loved her, she would stay, and find a way to build up the courage to tell him about her plot to ruin his life.
* * *
The Legacy 650 landed at the airport at ten-thirty Saturday morning. Camilla had made arrangements for a driver to meet Landon at the tarmac. When he opened the door to the black town car, his heart lodged itself in his throat at the site of his sister. “Natasha, what’s happened?” he asked with fear in his voice.
“Everyone’s fine, Landon. I needed to talk to you before you made it to the Grand Vue.”
“You could have warned me instead of being this close,” he raised his hand holding his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart, “to being the death of me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, but this is very serious and I couldn’t wait a moment longer to talk to you.”
The tone in her voice cooled his agitation. “What’s the matter, Natasha?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Brooke Johnson is not who she says she is.”
Landon’s heart began to race, but he didn’t say anything.
“When Gaston called me from The Absolution and told me about Brooke, and how he thought you might be falling for her, I was happy and excited. I thought perhaps you had finally turned a corner. I couldn’t help myself and did some research on her. There wasn’t much to find except for a few images and a number of her photographs. I remember thinking how beautiful she was.
“I also couldn’t help but recall what you told me about Olivia Nelson, how much you had loved her. The same day I tried to find pictures of her but could only find a few year book photos.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a white piece of drawing paper. “Isabella must have seen the image of her on my laptop. That same afternoon she drew this.”
Landon looked at his niece’s drawing of The Absolution; he couldn’t miss the fiery red hair of the woman standing next to him. He looked at Natasha, continuing to say nothing.
“I asked her who she was; Isabella told me she was the woman Uncle Landon loves. From the moment I met Brooke, I feel like I have been missing something. It wasn’t until the morning you left for Chile that I realized what it was. Brooke has the most brilliant green eyes I have ever seen. I really noticed them a few days before, when we were having lunch. It dawned on me that the Brooke Johnson I saw online had dark brown eyes, almost black.
“For days, I tried to figure out why I was bothered by the difference in her eye color and why she would change it. I also couldn’t put away the feeling that I had seen those eyes somewhere. Late yesterday afternoon, it hit me; they were Olivia Nelson’s eyes.
“She came here to deceive you. I can’t help but wonder if she really has lost her memory or if this is all part of the reason she came here under false pretenses. I’m so sorry, Landon, to have to tell you this. I know how much you love Brooke—Olivia—but I can’t afford to let anything happen to you.”
Prepared to comfort her brother, Natasha’s mouth fell open when she heard him say, “I know Brooke is Olivia. She really has lost her memory.”
“I ... uh . . . what do you mean you know?” she asked, flabbergasted.
“Who have you told about this? Does Gaston know?”
“No, I wouldn’t say anything to him without telling you first.” Her statement was made with a touch of agitation. Was she perturbed because he questioned her, or because he had known all this time who Olivia was and had dared to play with fire? Landon believed it was the latter.
“Nearly eight months ago, I hired a private investigator to follow up on Olivia. He tailed her for six months, almost to the day she boarded her flight in Portland. Shortly after I hired him, he followed her to a forger’s office in Chicago where she obtained Brooke Johnson’s passport. She came to Patagonia for revenge.”
A spark of anger flashed across Natasha’s face, but she held her tongue.
“I had every intention of avoiding her, but I was weak. The moment I saw her at the airport, I knew it would be hopeless.”
“The brochures,” Natasha interjected. “I wondered why you were retaking photos for a new brochure that had only been updated a short while ago. You were using it as an excuse to get close to her.”
Landon nodded. “I tried to convince myself that I was following Sun Tzu’s Art of War principle of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Being around her made me realize how much I loved her, how much I had always loved her. She was doing a good job of acting, but I knew she was having a hard time being around me. I was selfish in return and used her too. I wanted to have a few days
with her, possibly weeks, to carve out a few pretend memories of her before she left me forever.
“The day we went to Villa La Angostura, I realized I was in way over my head. I called Camilla and had her arrange for a driver to meet me at the next stop the following day. I was prepared to walk away from her, no longer willing to play her game. Throughout the day, I could tell something was different with her. I think she was experiencing doubt about her plans. After we returned to the ship, Olivia invited me to her room for dinner. ‘One last time,’ I had told myself.
“While we ate, I began to feel hope. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt hope. She asked me to dance with her. I succumbed and took from Olivia, kissing her. I had to know how it felt.”
“Was it worth it?” Natasha asked. The query wasn’t made with disdain, but with sadness for her brother who loved and forgave so freely.
Landon nodded his head. “I knew Olivia enjoyed it too. No one is that good of an actor. Afraid of what was happening and what I had done, I abruptly left her room. That night, neither of us could sleep. When I heard her leaving her room, I became worried and followed her onto the deck. I believe she was at war with herself—wrestling with herself over the plans to ruin me and what she had begun to feel. The only words she spoke on the deck were to ask me why I had named my ship The Absolution. When I told her, she became visibly upset. She pushed herself away from the rail and ran.”
Running his hand through his hair, Landon sighed, looking visibly haggard, as if remembering the moment Olivia fell took too much out of him.
“When I realized she had lost her memory, I was determined to make her fall in love with me—to make Brooke Johnson fall in love with me. If over time she remembered who she really was, Olivia would be too in love to leave me. If she never remembered, even better.”
“Your conscience got the better of you,” Natasha suggested. “She told me how you had encouraged her to not be afraid of remembering.”
“I didn’t want to create another reason to be forgiven by not helping her remember. I made the decision to tell her who she really was when we returned from Chile. I promised her I would come see her right away.”