Chapter Eight #3
Leah nodded as he spoke. He was right. The view she’d had was limited, not only by the small size of the window but also by the shelving units flanking the door on the kitchen side.
The window was designed to alert anyone approaching the door of someone about to push through it, not to provide a wide-angle view into the kitchen.
“My guess,” Owen went on, “is that the reason she did not do this was because, obviously, she was in shock. It’s a perfectly logical reaction.
She saw Douglas on the floor, bleeding, and then his body being dragged along.
It’s human nature to stare at something so surprising or shocking for a few seconds to ensure that you are indeed seeing what you believe you are seeing.
Then another moment is required to react.
By that time, the person pulling the victim would have been blocked from view by the stainless steel shelving unit loaded with pots and pans and other cooking related items next to the tables.
I’m sure you noticed this as well, if you had a close look at the scene. ”
Leah had not really thought about any of it at the time.
She had been too busy staring at Raymond, unconscious or dead, on the floor.
For several seconds she had been certain she was imagining it.
She hadn’t even thought to look at who was pulling him—if she could have seen him or her.
Once she realized it was actually happening, her only thought—the one pounding in her brain—had been to run for her life… and call the police.
The detective looked from Owen to Leah. “The medical examiner has tentatively called time of death at some point on Monday. In the afternoon, he suspects. But there is a good deal more work to be done in order to narrow down that time frame.”
His words echoed over and over in her brain before she could react.
“Then you know it wasn’t me,” she said before she analyzed the prudence in doing so.
Lambert had mentioned he had someone watching her after she went home Sunday morning.
No doubt she was watched until she went to the safe house with Owen on Tuesday.
“In addition to watching Ms. Gerard,” Owen said, “I’m confident you’ve monitored the location of her cell phone.”
“We’re aware,” Lambert admitted, “that you did not murder Raymond Douglas.”
The words struck Leah like a tidal wave washing over the shore. Finally. Did this mean the truth was emerging? She wanted to be relieved, yet she knew there was a but coming. She could hear it in his words, see it in his face.
“However, we still have questions as to whether you and your roommate have been working together. Planned and executed the event. Perhaps Isla decided to double-cross you, Leah. Have you considered this? It would be to your advantage to tell me all you know, and perhaps there would be a deal for you.”
Every ounce of strength she possessed was required to prevent responding to that statement with all the fury building inside her.
She wanted to shout her indignation, to rant at him for wasting time by being focused on her.
Instead, she deferred to Owen. He would know how to best react to the man’s ridiculous suggestion.
“In any scenario you can concoct,” Owen began, “how would Ms. Gerard’s participation in the murder of Raymond Douglas be believable, considering she would have known that the insurance policy would scream her guilt? You must be aware by now that she is a victim in this scam as well.”
Lambert scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He looked from Owen to Leah. “Not once in three years did you suspect your roommate was some sort of scam artist?”
Leah shook her head. “Never. Honestly, I can’t believe she would do this.
Isla is brilliant. She’s going to be a doctor.
Why would she throw it all away—even for five million dollars—when she has so much future potential to lose?
I’m confident her lifetime income potential is far more than that amount.
She’s young, with her entire life ahead of her.
Think of all that would mean she was throwing away. ”
It simply did not make sense. Who would do such a thing?
Big exhale from Lambert. “The answer is quite simple. Because your roommate is not a student in medical school or anywhere else. Not legally.”
Leah drew back at his words as if he’d slapped her. “What are you talking about? Isla is in her final year of medical school. I’ve watched her studying. Her schedule is insane.”
“Isla Morris was a medical student, yes,” Lambert confirmed. “But your roommate and Isla Morris are not the same person.”
Shock shimmered through Leah, rocking her to the very core of her being. She somehow managed to turn her head and exchange a glance with Owen. Judging by the expression on his face, he was more than a little surprised as well.
Owen shifted his attention to the detective. “The agency confirmed the roommate’s attendance at Northwestern as well as her employment at the hospital.”
“Whoever this woman—your roommate—is,” Lambert said to Leah, “she is not Isla Morris.” He shifted his focus to Owen. “I have reason to believe the woman who invited Leah to move in with her is Alyssa Jones, and has been pretending to be Morris for just over three years.”
“We’ll need more details,” Owen said, visibly unconvinced.
Leah couldn’t speak. Her mind was still reeling.
“Isla Morris and Alyssa Jones were friends. They looked so much alike they could have been twins—even her mother said so. Olive, Isla’s real mother, cremated her daughter after her tragic suicide three and a half years ago.
In her grief, she foolishly allowed this Alyssa Jones to come and go in her home at will.
She saw Alyssa as a sort of second daughter and firmly believed she could trust her completely.
After Isla’s death, she clung to Alyssa.
Depended on her. Alyssa seemed to be a godsend. ”
Leah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Just when she thought this situation could not get any more bizarre. “You are absolutely certain this person I’ve known all this time is not Isla Morris? The woman I’ve met who gave us the key to the lake house is not her mother?”
“Correct,” Lambert confirmed. “In fact, the woman you met who posed as Isla’s mother has vanished. Her home looks as if it was ransacked and abandoned. We’re still trying to identify her.”
“I’m somewhat baffled,” Owen admitted. “My agency found nothing in Isla Morris’s background to suggest she was deceased. I’m aware the department has its resources, but none better than ours. Where is your in-depth knowledge coming from?”
“Frankly, I was confused myself when this thing with Douglas started,” Lambert confessed.
“You see, my wife and Olive Morris were friends back in high school. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but when Isla died, Olive was devastated.
She called my wife and begged her to persuade me to look into the girl’s death because Olive was convinced her daughter wouldn’t commit suicide.
I conducted an unofficial investigation of sorts.
Followed up on the coroner’s report, that sort of thing. ”
He exhaled a weary breath. “And I spoke at length with the friend, Alyssa. She insisted the intense pressure Isla was under at school had her on edge. She went into great detail about the anxiety and other issues Isla hadn’t told her mother about.
She was so sincere. Damned persuasive. I bought the story hook, line and sinker. So you see, the mistake was mine.”
“But you didn’t say anything,” Leah said, bewildered and feeling more hurt than ever. “You questioned me repeatedly, and you said nothing.” He’d made her feel like a criminal!
“When I interviewed you,” he explained, “early Sunday morning, I was stunned to discover that Isla’s identity had been stolen.
But I needed to let this thing play out in hopes of discovering the whole truth.
I believe Alyssa Jones took over everything for Olive after Isla’s death.
Olive went into seclusion. Didn’t talk to anyone.
Didn’t hold a memorial service for her daughter.
She just stopped caring about anything, which likely left Jones with free rein…
until she had everything she wanted. Birth certificate, family photos, money…
whatever. If I’d had any doubts about my conclusion, those were gone when I checked with the medical examiner’s office and no file for Isla Morris was found.
This woman—Alyssa Jones, aka Isla Morris—may or may not be a professional, but she orchestrated the takeover of Isla’s life like a professional. ”
Owen shifted in his chair, the move drawing Leah’s attention. He asked, “Why are you telling us this now?”
Lambert studied Owen a moment, then looked to Leah.
“I’m telling you this, and I shouldn’t. If my commander learns about my personal involvement in the case, he’ll take me off this investigation.
I need to find the truth. I owe it to Isla and her mother.
If you will work with me—play along—we may be able to draw this Alyssa Jones or whoever she is out of hiding. ”
Leah shifted her attention to Owen. “I would really like to help.”
Owen nodded, then said to Lambert, “We’ll need more information about what you have planned. Starting with, where is the real Mrs. Morris?”
Lambert’s expression grew even more somber.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could answer that question. I’ve gone to her home and gotten no answer.
Her neighbors say they haven’t seen her in ages.
” He shrugged. “I may have had a look around in her home, unofficially, and all appeared to be just as it should be. So, to answer your question, I have no idea.”
“What is it that you expect of my client?” Owen prompted.
“Well, my official reason for calling you here today,” Lambert said to Leah, “was to let you know that you’re no longer a person of interest in the death of Raymond Douglas.
I’ll keep working the case, but I fear I won’t find the answers I’m looking for without your help.
” He shifted to Owen then. “If you can protect Ms. Gerard, I believe I can draw out this Alyssa Jones, or whoever she is—bear in mind that according to all our databases, she does not exist. Anyway, I fear this is the only way I’m going to learn what has happened to Olive Morris.
I’ll start with a press briefing to tell the world that Douglas’s body has been found and Leah Gerard is innocent of his murder. ”
Owen nodded. “This will lead the roommate to believe the life insurance will pay off. She’ll be watching Ms. Gerard.”
“Yes.” Lambert nodded, his expression hopeful. “I believe this was her intent all along.” He glanced at Leah. “But I worry that I can’t prove it without your help.”
Leah looked to Owen and nodded. She wanted to help. The person she had trusted the past three years had betrayed her and likely had plans to kill her. Leah wanted to see her go down, and anything she could do toward that end was fine by her. All she needed was for Owen to have her back.
“We can work with you on this,” Owen agreed. “But we’ll need assistance with another matter.”
Lambert’s expression turned guarded. “I’m listening.”
“Chris Painter has resurfaced, and Ms. Gerard needs details. Perhaps even a visit with the man. It’s my understanding the Chicago PD has him under guard at the hospital.”
Lambert considered the request while Leah’s heart thumped harder and harder.
Finally, he said, “I think I can arrange that.”
Owen looked to Leah; she nodded again, then he turned back to Lambert. “Then we have a deal.”
In light of the fact that Leah was now officially cleared of suspicion, she should have been happy. But what she felt was betrayed, used…and terrified—terrified that what she would learn would be far worse than what she already knew.
Terrified that Chris Painter would tell her secret.