Perry sat across from him in the oversized chair that Samantha had bought for the space. She had rearranged the furniture. With the bullet hole-ridden sofa gone, the space must’ve seemed empty. Perry appeared to be into the movie. His pistol was at his side, his shoes still on, his hair cut low, and his face clean-shaven. He was on the job. Hill appreciated that he had stopped by despite the fact that he was on duty. He smiled then returned his focus to the movie.
A few minutes later, Samantha entered the living room noisily. She was screaming with excitement about seeing Perry ‘babysitting’ Hill.
“I was worried he’d get into some kind of mischief while I was gone. I’m so glad you stopped by.”
“I am in the room,” Hill said as they talked about him like he wasn’t even there. Hill turned off the movie and asked Samantha to sit down. He had debated about revealing to them what he’d found. He’d probably have to confess that he left the warehouse—but perhaps he could leave that part out. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be gung-ho enough to investigate further. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with fantasies of freedom.
“What’s up, Hill?” Samantha asked.
“I’m going back to prison in three and a half days. I’ve enjoyed my freedom, you see?”
“Hill, I hope you’re not thinking of fleeing. My ass is on the line here,” Samantha warned.
“Shh. Just listen.”
“No, I’m not listening to this nonsense, Hill.”
Perry patted her knee. “Just hear him out. Let’s see where he’s going with this.”
“I’m not playing with you, Hill. Don’t you dare burn me,” she warned.
Samantha’s reaction was one he hadn’t anticipated. Had she been concerned that Hill would flee? Why and why would that be the first thing that popped into her head? Hill tried to shake it off, but he couldn’t. Didn’t anybody have any faith in him at all? Hill looked at Perry, who had one eyebrow raised, and then he shifted his focus to Samantha, who had her arms folded across her chest, her fingers drumming against her biceps. Her eyebrows were furrowed so deeply it was frightening.
“I’m not talking about fleeing. I,” he chose his words carefully, “am just feeling grateful that I was able to spend time with you two. It’s been so long, and after tasting this bit of freedom, I’m not sure how I’ll get through the next five without you. I just wanted to implore you to visit sometimes. It really helps. That’s all I wanted to say.” But it wasn’t. He hadn’t planned on saying any of that. He wanted to tell them what he found and ask them to help him find some answers.
Judging from their reactions, Hill wasn’t sure at all if they even believed he was innocent. Maybe they want to believe him. Maybe, in some subconscious way, they need to believe him. But it was clear to Hill that they had some serious doubts about him. He decided that he’d hire his father’s attorney to manage his inheritance, and the first thing he’d do was hire an investigator.
“You had me scared for a minute there, Hill,” Perry said.
“Will you make us some popcorn?” Hill asked Samantha.
“Good idea,” she said as she got up. “Put on the next movie.”
38
Hill’s head bobbed and lolled as old stuff flashed forward in his mind like a dream sequence—Caitlin’s nightmares, the phone app, the envelope to Amelia, the odor of death in the storage closet. All of it fell like a stack of dominos into the perfect murder. A perfect murder. His head fell back against the sofa, his eyes suddenly wide open, his mouth agape, gasping for air. His heart raced.
“She’s alive,” he whispered, not as a declaration but more like a revelation.
He looked down at Samantha, who had fallen asleep in his lap. Perry had taken off his service pistol, shoes, and socks, and reclined in the chair, sound asleep. Hill managed to slip from under Samantha without disturbing her, and he walked to where Perry was snoring.
“Perry,” Hill said in a whisper while tapping him. He tapped him repeatedly, harder each time. Finally, he was able to jar Perry out of his sleep. “I need to talk to you.”
***
“Do you hear what you’re saying, Hill? This is crazy.”
“I know it sounds preposterous, but. . .”
“Why are you obsessing over this? She’s gone, man. Caitlin Church is dead. End of story.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Caitlin is dead. You’re right. But Amelia is alive.”
“Okay. So? Who cares?”
“Caitlin is Amelia.”
“You’re confusing me. Caitlin’s dental records matched the remains, man. Caitlin MacFarland Church is dead.”
“Hear me out, okay? Just listen closely. The woman we knew as Caitlin was from Spain. Her real name was Amelia Morales. She moved here with her mother. Follow me?”
Perry nodded.
“She became good friends with the woman who we thought was Amelia, but she’s the real Caitlin MacFarland—Irish-American Chicagoan. At some point, and I haven’t figured out when, Amelia took on Caitlin’s identity. I’m thinking she got Caitlin to agree to it by offering to pay her off. So Amelia and Caitlin switched identities. Amelia, who is now Caitlin, meets and marries rich guy, Adam Church.”
“I’m following . . .”
“Our Caitlin saw a way to seek revenge against the man who killed her family—and against the man who allowed a killer to escape. She saw a way to commit the perfect murder. Our Caitlin kills her friend—who we know as Amelia—and hides her body in a rattan chest that she had hidden in a storage closet. In the meantime, she had planned on me as her fall guy to kill her husband, which I refused to do. I’m convinced she had it set up so that her husband would catch me screwing her, and I’d have no choice but to defend myself with deadly force. She knew Adam would kill me if he found out I was screwing his wife. He said so to my face when he tried to kill me right here in my house.” Hill got up and went to the cabinet where he had placed the bullet fragments and casings, showing them to Perry.
Hill continued, “Anyway, she sets me up to take the fall for the murder of her husband and herself. She flees the country, and everybody finds the body of the real Caitlin in the bed, Adam and his two bodyguards on the floor, and me, dazed and confused, wielding a gun. The woman we knew as Caitlin, our Caitlin, goes back to her original identity, Amelia Morales, and flees the country, scot-free. I bet you my life that somehow Amelia Morales came into a large inheritance and is probably living out her life somewhere in Spain as a very rich woman.”
“Do you know how preposterous that sounds? That woman would’ve had to have been an extremely calculating and clever monster.”
“That’s just it, Perry. She was more than that. She knew what she wanted, and she wouldn’t stop until she got it. Here you have a neat little package, signed, sealed, and delivered. Hill Parker murdered his lover and her jealous husband in a rage of passion. Case closed. Nobody would be looking for her. As far as you’re concerned, she’s dead. Yet she’s off somewhere, enjoying Adam’s money without a care in the world, and I’m doing time for two counts of voluntary manslaughter—all because I was screwing the devil. Both Ty and Amelia tried to warn me about her. I just didn’t believe them.”
“But why, Hill? It doesn’t make sense. She did all of this—killed her friend and framed you—just so she could inherit Adam’s money? That just doesn’t sound right.”
“No, the money was just the icing on the cake. It was revenge, Perry. It was revenge against me for allowing a convicted assassin out on a free pass, an assassin who wound up killing her cousin, David Velez Camargo, his ex-wife, and her uncle. Revenge against Adam for ordering the hit against her family. And her reward for it was Adam’s millions.”
“So Caitlin is alive and living life as Amelia?”
“Caitlin is Amelia—always had been. We just never knew it.”
“This is all conjecture, Hill. Can you prove any of it?”
He shook his head. “I just know.”
Perry sighed with reli
ef. “Well, at least you have an answer to a question I had no idea you had.”
“I’m going to find her.”
“You’re going to do what? No, Hill. Bad idea. Don’t go looking for. . .” he paused to collect himself and lower his voice. “What are you going to do if you find her? There’s no reason to find her.”
“I just want her to know that I know the truth. I want her to look me in the eyes and see that she didn’t destroy me.”
“How do you know that she wanted to destroy you? Maybe you got lucky because she started having feelings for you—or maybe she didn’t do any of this at all because she’s dead.”
“She’s alive, Perry. And I’m going to find her.”
“Bad idea. You’ve done some stupid shit in your life, Hill. One bad choice landed you in prison—could have been longer if you didn’t have so many friends in the legal system. Trying to find Caitlin . . . Amelia . . . whoever . . . is idiotic.”
“I found her mother.”
“You did what?”
“Her mother. Get this—her mother is Rosemary Camargo, Adam’s housekeeper. She ‘inherited’ his house and is living there with—guess who?”
“I don’t want to play any guessing games, Hill. Who’s she living with?”
“Gabe.”
“Gabe?”
“Yes, Gabe. Something’s hinky, man. I need your help,” Hill began.
Perry shook his head.
“I just need you to check when Amelia’s passport was last used. I bet you it will be sometime shortly after I allegedly killed Caitlin and Adam.”
“If I do this, will you promise to let it rest? You’ll have the answer to your question, and you’ll get on with your life?”
He nodded, choking when he noticed Samantha standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
39
Hill could hardly sleep. He was so riled up over his revelation. Caitlin was alive, and he was going to find her. But his time was limited. He only had three days before he had to report back to prison to finish his sentence. He looked at the clock on the table. It was six in the morning. He could hardly wait to call his father’s attorney to get things rolling with the investigation. If there were some way to locate her before he had to report back to prison, that would be pristine. But there was no way to fly all the way to Spain and back in three days.
He made a pot of coffee, hoping the aroma would wake Samantha and Perry. Hill was happily surprised to find Perry still there. It was nice to be amongst old friends—true friends. Soon, he’d be back in his cold cell, staring at steel bars, confined to an eight-by-eight cell twenty hours a day. He poured himself a cup of coffee then retrieved the attorney’s business card. He couldn’t wait to call. He’d at least leave a message for him to call immediately. Instead, the attorney answered.
“Lowell, where are you?” Hill asked.
“Home.”
“Is there any way you can come see me or you can arrange some cash to pay for a cab for me to come see you?”
“I’ll come to you. I understand you have restrictions. How about I stop by on my way to the office?”
***
Lowell arrived at the warehouse almost an hour later. Perry and Samantha were preparing to leave, but Hill urged them to stay, at least to hear what Lowell had to say.
Lowell was an older man—distinguished, tailored suits, polished Italian leather shoes, manicured hands, perfect veneers. He walked and talked like success. Hill admired that. After pouring him a cup of coffee, Hill sat next to him and explained what he wanted to do. He wanted to hire an investigator to find out the truth of what happened that night over five years ago at the Church’s mansion.
Perry discouraged him and Samantha forbade him. But Lowell thought it was a good idea. What was there to lose? If Hill was innocent, nothing they found would hurt him. Hill only wanted the truth.
“If the same thing had happened to either of you,” Lowell said, “you’d want to learn the truth, too. Don’t deny him his peace of mind.”
On that note, both Perry and Samantha piped down and listened to what Lowell had to say. Lowell commanded respect. When he spoke, the room was silent. There was something powerful in his presence.
“I know Leonard would want you to do this. I’ll see to it,” Lowell said.
Once the meeting was over and Lowell was gone, Perry left shortly after, warning Hill to be careful—that he had no idea what was lurking out there preferring to remain undiscovered.
Once the door was closed, Samantha stood in the living room, and she was pissed. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Hill. What could you possibly hope to accomplish?”
“The truth, Sam. All I want is the truth. I admitted to a lie. I pled guilty to something I didn’t do just because the circumstantial evidence was piled up against me. But for five years, the truth has eluded me. And I need to know.”
“I’m afraid for you, Hill.”
“You don’t have to be. I’ll be alright. I’ll be in my cell, surrounded by thousands of convicts and dozens of guards. No harm is going to come to me.”
“But you’re kicking up dust, digging up bones. You have to expect the unexpected when you do that . . . and I don’t want to lose you now that I have you back.”
Hill drew back in surprise. She had him back? What was she saying? It was music to his ears. He pulled her into a hug and whispered to her, “I’m never letting you go again.”
“What about Hillary? What do I tell her?”
“I don’t understand. What does she have to do with this?”
Samantha took a deep breath. That had slipped out. She didn’t mean to say it. Now she’d have to tell him, unless she could figure out a way to weasel out of it. But why would she? After all, didn’t Hill deserve to know the truth? “Hillary is your daughter, Hill.”
“What?”
“I’ve debated telling you. You were in prison when I found out. I. . .”
“You debated telling me? There was some internal debate as to whether you’d tell me I had a child? What do you mean you debated?”
“I didn’t mean I debated about telling you. I meant that I debated about when to tell you.”
He stared at her blankly, Pissed.
“Does Bill know?”
“Yes, and that’s why we’re separated. That’s why I had to move out. Last year, Bill found out he’s sterile and has been since he was born. He has some sort of congenital chromosomal abnormality that makes it impossible for him to father children. So when he found out . . .”
“I can’t believe you hid this from me?” Hill’s temper was igniting.
“No. I didn’t know until a year ago. I thought she was Bill’s daughter. But then I remembered that night—our last night together.”
“I wore a condom.”
“The first time but not the second, remember?”
Hill was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. His emotions ranged from anger to surprise to joy to fear. He had a five-year-old daughter who was being raised by another man. He had no choice in the matter since he was a convict. If he had known, he might not have pleaded guilty. He might not have done a lot of things. One thing he knew for sure, he wouldn’t have stood by while Samantha married Bill.
“So now what? What am I supposed to do, Sam?”
“Don’t pursue this search for Caitlin. Just let it go. Please, Hill.”
He was silent for a long while, trying to absorb all that he’d just learned. He was a father. His ex-lover was alive. His former employee was married to his ex-lover’s mother—or aunt. Rosemary could have been Caitlin’s aunt. Too many questions. Too many secrets hung over his head.
“I can’t, Sam.”
“Then, I’m taking you back to prison early. Don’t forget, I’m in charge of you while you’re out. And if you’re going to do foolish things and put your life and our lives in danger by pursuing this silliness, then I’m taking you back early.”
“Sam. . .”
“No, Hill.
Don’t try to pacify me,” she said as she walked out and slammed the door.
40
Lowell arrived at Hill’s warehouse just before sunset. Hill was still reeling from learning he had a child with Samantha—that Hillary was his daughter. When Hill opened the door, Lowell pushed his way in and walked to the kitchen. He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, took a couple swigs, then slammed a book on the counter.
“What’s this?” Hill asked.
Lowell turned it over so that the front cover was face up. St. Catherine’s Preparatory School, 1998. “A year book.” He flipped through the pages and landed on Caitlin MacFarland. He pointed at the picture.
Hill picked up the book to look closer at the picture. It bore a striking resemblance to his Caitlin, but it clearly wasn’t her. Lowell snatched the yearbook from Hill and flipped through the pages to Amelia Morales. He pointed at the picture. Hill didn’t have to look closely at all. It was clearly a picture of the woman he once knew as Caitlin MacFarland Church. So his theory was right. Caitlin was really Amelia Morales.
***
Perry looked at Hill. “Is this why you made me come over here? To see this?”
“Let’s keep this in context.”
“I am. Listen, Hill, I heard from my contact about the passport.”
“And?”
“And, Amelia Morales used her passport the same day Caitlin MacFarland Church was allegedly raped and murdered by you.”
“What did I tell you!” he shouted, excited that he was right.
“I know I’m going to kick myself for telling you this. But. . .” He hesitated. He wasn’t sure if telling Hill would be a good idea, considering his obsession with this whole thing.
“What? Spill it.”
“Amelia’s passport?”
“What about it?” Hill said anxiously.
“It was just used a few days ago to enter the US.”
Hill’s eyes glazed over.
“It doesn’t mean she’s still here, though. It could be a ruse to throw off anyone who might have discovered her secret. She could be anywhere.”
Dangerously in Love Page 14