Chapter 31
Mary couldn’t settle. She’d tried reading, tried reviewing the case files on her tablet, and tried organizing the notes they’d compiled over the past week. But her mind kept racing, cycling through possibilities and scenarios, each one more disturbing than the last.
What if I was wrong about Colin? What if I’ve taken evidence and constructed an elaborate theory based on nothing more than two men who happened to look similar in a decades-old photograph?
Or worse…what if I’m right? What if the man we’ve been watching is actually someone else, an impostor and possible murderer, who may have killed his best friend.
Or half brother. Someone who’s stolen Colin’s identity to gain access to millions of dollars?
God, that sounds like a novel or movie plot!
“You’re going to make yourself crazy,” Bert said from where he sat at the small table, his laptop open in front of him, but his attention clearly on her. “I can hear your mind churning.”
“I’m not churning. Well, not exactly. More like continually analyzing.” Mary sighed heavily as her hands worked the wheels of her chair with agitated energy. “There’s a difference.”
“Semantics.” Bert closed the laptop and set it aside. “Mary, you need to breathe. We’ve done everything we can. Now we wait for Sadie and Logan to work their magic.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I know. But there’s nothing more we can do right now except wait and try not to alert Colin that we’re suspicious.” Bert stood and moved to intercept her, kneeling so they were eye level. “So let me help you with that.”
“Help me with what?”
“Taking your mind off the case.” His hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I have some ideas about how to keep you distracted for a while.”
Despite her anxiety, Mary felt heat bloom in her chest and spread outward. “Oh really? And what kind of ideas would those be?”
Instead of answering, Bert kissed her. Soft at first, a gentle press of lips that was sweet and tender and completely at odds with the danger swirling around them. But it deepened quickly, his tongue sliding against hers, his hand sliding into her hair to angle her head for better access.
Mary made a small sound in the back of her throat and pulled him closer, her hands fisting in his shirt.
This feeling of being wanted and desired and completely consumed by someone who saw all of her and chose her anyway…
this was what she’d been afraid she’d never have.
And now that she had it, now that Bert looked at her like she was the most important thing in his world, Mary wanted to hold it with both hands.
“Bed,” Bert murmured against her lips. “Let me take you to bed and make you forget about everything else for a while.”
“Yes,” Mary breathed, already reaching for him.
Bert lifted her with an easy strength that made her feel cherished rather than helpless.
Before carrying her to the bed, he held her tightly, keeping his arms around her.
She grinned against his lips, loving the position of being held upright in his arms. Even if her legs dangled, it felt powerful to stare eye to eye while upright.
He then carried her the few steps to the bed and settled her against the pillows. Mary immediately started working on the buttons of her shirt, her fingers clumsy with desire and urgency.
“Let me,” Bert said, his hands covering hers. “Let me take care of you.”
Mary hesitated only a moment before nodding, letting her hands fall away and allowing Bert to undress her with the kind of reverent care that made her chest ache.
Each piece of clothing removed was accompanied by kisses pressed to newly exposed skin…
her collarbone, her curves, the soft skin of her stomach.
His hands were gentle as he rolled her from side to side, gliding her leggings down. It was hard to let go of the vulnerability of having her scars on display, but she felt cared for in the most intimate and ultimate way.
When Mary was fully bare, he paused to just look at her, his eyes dark with want. “You’re so beautiful, Mary. Every time I see you like this, I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“I am yours,” she said, the words coming easily now. “Completely yours.”
She watched as Bert stripped off his own clothes with far less ceremony than he’d used on her, and then he was settling over her.
“Will you get bored with limited sex positions?” she asked, wincing as the words escaped.
“Babe, I just want to be with you, in any way I can. Nothing about what we do is boring… especially during sex.” Once again, she felt the sensation of pressure. It was more than she’d hoped for, and she held his shoulder tightly, ready to ride out whatever pleasure he wanted to offer.
This time was different from their first time. That had been nerves, discovery, and exploration, both of them learning what worked and what didn’t, figuring out their rhythm. But this was confidence and trust and the knowledge that they fit together perfectly, complications and all.
Bert was learning what brought her pleasure, what made her gasp and arch and pull him closer.
And Mary touched him, reveling in the groans erupting from deep in his chest. This was real.
This love, this connection, this feeling of being whole and wanted and exactly where she belonged…
this was what mattered. Not her wheelchair, not her scars, not her limitations.
Just two people who’d found each other and refused to let anything stand in the way of building something beautiful together.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest with his arms wrapped protectively around her. The ship rocked gently beneath them, and for a few precious minutes, Mary let herself just exist at this moment without thinking about Colin or Diane or murder or danger.
“Feel better?” Bert murmured, his hand stroking lazy patterns on her back.
“Much better,” Mary admitted. “Thank you for the distraction.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”
Bert kissed her once more, quick and sweet, then rolled to the side, taking her with him. He draped her body over his. She pushed up on her arms and grinned. “I can be your blanket.”
“Sweetheart, you can be my everything.”
Still grinning, she kissed him before laying her head on his chest. He traced gentle patterns on her back, and she relaxed even more.
After several minutes, he finally said, “I suppose we should get dressed again in case Logan or Sadie calls back.”
“Ugh… okay,” she groaned.
He gently rolled her to the side, then climbed out of bed. She admired his body, all lean muscles and gorgeous eyes.
“You’re not helping,” Bert said as he caught her ogling. He pulled her to a sitting position and handed her bra and shirt to her. Once he pulled on his pants, he then assisted her with panties and leggings before he finished dressing.
They dressed with the easy intimacy of people who’d seen each other at their most vulnerable. Mary accepted Bert’s help transferring back to her wheelchair, no longer feeling self-conscious about accepting assistance, trusting that it came from love rather than obligation.
She rolled into the bathroom to take care of business. Just as she managed to make it back into her wheelchair, she heard Bert’s voice through the door. “Hey, Mary, Logan sent an update. Sadie and Timothy have an early report.”
She hurried to roll out to the desk where Bert set up his secure laptop.
Logan’s face appeared, his expression grim. Behind him, Sadie was visible at her workstation, with multiple screens glowing around her.
“We’ve got information,” Logan said without preamble. “Sadie’s been digging into Colin Morrison’s background. Sadie, walk them through what you found.”
Sadie’s expression was intense. “Okay. Frank Marcone was Colin Morrison’s roommate at university.
Frank was there on scholarship. From what I can piece together, he was a brilliant student but came from a poor background.
His father was never in the picture, and his mother died of cancer while Frank was in his junior year. ”
Mary felt her stomach tighten. A young man with no family, no ties, no one who would miss him if he disappeared.
“After graduation, Frank and Colin shared apartments for several years,” Sadie continued. “They were close friends throughout their twenties, worked in similar fields, and apparently stayed tight. Then about four years ago, they took a holiday together to Switzerland. Skiing trip.”
“And?” Bert prompted when Sadie paused.
“And Frank Marcone died in a skiing accident.” Sadie’s expression was grim.
“They went out when a snowstorm was imminent, and Frank got lost. It was two days before his body was found. Since Frank had no living relatives, Colin handled all the arrangements. Had him cremated, held a small memorial service back home, and took care of Frank’s affairs. ”
Mary felt cold despite the warmth of the cabin. “So the man with Diane really is Colin Morrison. The real Colin. I was wrong.”
But Sadie shook her head. “That’s what the official record says. But Mary, your instincts were right to be suspicious. I’m still waiting on fingerprint confirmation from the RCMP. They’re fast-tracking it through their database, but there are inconsistencies in the timeline that don’t add up.”
“What kind of inconsistencies?” Bert asked, leaning closer to the screen.
“Colin Morrison’s employment records show a gap right after the skiing accident.
Six months when he wasn’t working anywhere and wasn’t accessing his bank accounts.
He’d essentially disappeared. Then he resurfaces, moves to Halifax, and starts living with Diane.
” Sadie pulled up documents on her screen.
“And the signature on Frank’s cremation authorization?
It doesn’t match other signatures we have on file for Colin from before the skiing trip. ”
Mary’s mind raced, pieces clicking together. “What if it wasn’t Frank who died in the avalanche? What if it was Colin, and Frank took his identity?”
“That’s the theory I’m working on,” Sadie confirmed.
“Two men who looked similar enough to pass casual inspection, on a skiing trip in a foreign country where identification might not be scrutinized too carefully. A snowstorm that delayed body recovery for three days, giving time for decomposition and making positive identification more difficult. And a supposed best friend who handled all the arrangements and had the body cremated before anyone else could examine it too closely.”
“So Frank may have have just taken advantage of an accident or actually killed Colin on that skiing trip,” Mary mused aloud.
“Made it look like an accident, or maybe encouraged the outing during a snowstorm. Then he claimed the body recovered was Frank, authorized cremation before anyone could question it, and slipped into Colin’s identity. ”
“And with Colin’s parents already dead, and Diane not having seen her nephew in years,” Bert added grimly, “no one was positioned to realize the man claiming to be Colin wasn’t actually him.”
“Exactly,” Logan said. “But we need proof. The RCMP is running the fingerprints you lifted against any records they have for the real Colin Morrison and Frank Marcone… employment background checks, anything they can find. We have a chance to gain concrete evidence that your Colin is actually Frank.”
“How long?” Mary asked.
“They’re prioritizing it, but these things take time.
Could be hours, could be a day.” Logan’s expression was sympathetic but firm.
“I know you want to move now, but we have to do this by the book. Identity theft, fraud, poisoning, and possible murder. The RCMP need airtight evidence, or Frank, if it is Frank, walks away, and Diane stays in danger.”
“So we wait,” Bert said, though his jaw was tight with frustration.
“You wait, you watch, and you do whatever you’d normally do to not arouse suspicion,” Logan confirmed.
“Canadian authorities are being briefed as we speak. The moment we have fingerprint confirmation, they’ll move.
But until then, you maintain your cover, and you don’t do anything to tip Colin off that he’s under suspicion. ”
“Understood,” Mary said, though every instinct screamed at her to go to Diane’s cabin right now and get the older woman away from Colin before he could hurt her.
“Sadie will keep digging, see what else she can find about Colin’s and Frank’s background and the skiing accident,” Logan continued. “If Colin makes any moves toward Diane that seem threatening, then you intervene. Diane’s safety is the priority, as is yours.”
“Roger that,” Bert said.
They disconnected, and Mary sat in her wheelchair, staring at the blank screen and trying to process everything they’d learned.
She’d been right. Her instincts about the photograph, about something being suspicious with Colin, had been right.
The man they’d been watching might not be Diane’s nephew at all.
He might be Frank Marcone, a man with nothing to lose who’d murdered his best friend and stolen his identity to gain access to a fortune.
“Hey.” Bert’s hand settled on her shoulder, warm and grounding. “You did good. Spotting that similarity in the photograph, making the connection about identity theft. That’s the kind of observation that breaks cases wide open.”
“I just hope we’re fast enough,” Mary said quietly. “If what we suspect is true, then Colin… or Frank has already killed once. If he realizes we’re suspicious, or if he decides Diane knows too much or has become more trouble than she’s worth—”
“Then we stop him,” Bert said firmly. “Whatever it takes, we keep Diane safe until authorities can move.”
Mary nodded, but the fear sat heavy in her chest. They were so close to solving this, so close to getting Diane away from danger.
But close wasn’t good enough. Not when they were dealing with a possible murderer who’d already proven he was willing to kill to protect his secrets.
All they could do now was wait. Watch. Stay alert for any sign that he was about to make his move.
And pray that the fingerprints came back before it was too late to stop him.