All The Pieces (Pieces of Lies 3) (30 page)

I missed Josh every single day, but it had become easier to remember the good times and the wonderful memories we shared now that I had James in my life. I knew that if Josh had never thrown his body over me the way he did when we were trying to get away, James and I may not be here today. Josh had saved us both and given us this new life. He was more than my best friend, soul mate and father to my son, he was also my hero, and I truly felt that he was still with me, helping to take care and watch over James.  I could feel him in my blood and the air that I breathed. My heart would forever mourn his loss and remember everything beautiful that made our friendship and our love special. Tragedy has a way of making even the briefest love feel poetic.

My Dad had informed me that Josh was buried next his parents in New York.  He had said the funeral was heartfelt and sad, as was my own.  It was easy to let the darkness creep into my head when I started to think of his death, and the funeral.  I couldn’t help but replay all the events and actions with the Lappell and with me that somehow put him on this course.  How his choice in Morewell to join the Lappell had altered both our lives.  How it had changed us both in ways that I was still trying to understand.  Could I have prevented his death?  Could I have somehow stopped the Lappell or changed his destiny?  I wiped away the tears that had appeared on my cheeks.  I knew my crying was important in allowing myself to feel his loss.  To embrace the sadness.  To let it flow so it could stop the darkness from making me someone I never wanted to be again.

I sucked in a few quick breaths, trying to recover myself from getting too emotional.  I thought of the murders as well as the aftermath that came from the information exposed about the Lappell.  It couldn’t bring Josh back to me, but my Father’s wrath gave me a soothing sense of satisfaction.  His death had not been for nothing.  It had helped expose and bring down the Lappell too.

Mourning Josh and motherhood were the hardest challenges I faced this year, although seeing those news headlines coming out of New York did help fight off all the pain inside. But I wasn’t completely on my own here. My father had also arranged a nanny to help me with James in setting up my new home on this little island off the north coast of Australia. The woman who was in her early fifties, Elaine, had no previous knowledge of my identity as his daughter, only that I was part of his team. She only knew me as Nina Riley, an important associate and friend of the Rossi clan. And even though this stranger had stepped into my life, we bonded straight away. She was naturally a nurturer, encouraging me to embrace my new motherly skills. Her support, guidance and friendship helped smoothed my transition from naive and scared, to confident and calm. In such a short period of time, she had become a rock to me, a grandmother kind of figure I could depend on. I had imagined that this would have been the kind of relationship I would have had with my own mother, had she still been alive.

Elaine lived in a small beach apartment nearby, but spent a few days a week helping to clean my villa and taking care of James when I went to work at my studio. She had a contract with another small business on the island, a cafe, where she did their bookwork as well.

The island I lived on was located in a series of islands called the Whitsundays. It was probably the most beautiful place I had ever seen. It was the kind of beautiful you only see in postcards with their picturesque crystal clear water and lush tropical flora and fauna. The islands had a very strong tourist flow coming in and out at all times of the year, even in winter. Winters in northern Australia are not what I would even call winter. It was just this cool air swirling in the vibrant sun for a couple of months. So basically, the weather was stunning nearly all year round.

I picked up James from my bed, and headed towards our kitchen where I could already smell breakfast cooking. Elaine was already here. When I walked into the kitchen, her back was to me as she hovered over the frying pan where the smell of bacon hung in the air. “Good morning Ms. Riley. How are you and your beautiful son today? I’m making bacon and eggs. I hope you are hungry.”

I put James into the highchair seated at the table, and took a seat next to him. “I told you Elaine, to please call me Nina. You know I hate it when you call me Ms. Riley. It’s much too formal. You are like family anyway. You are not the help.”

She turned around. Her motherly face, framed by thick chocolate hair lined with grey streaks smiled warmly at me and James. “Thank you Nina. So what are your plans today at the studio?”

“Well, I’ve got some supplies coming in, and Sophie is meeting me when we open to help with the unpacking and to assist with the customers while I go through the deliveries.”

I had a little studio close to one of the large resorts. It attracted a lot of locals as well as tourists. It had been thriving so much it even afforded me a casual employee. A nineteen year old art major called Sophie who was studying externally from the mainland. She came in on the days when cruise ships and the ferries flowed through. On those days, we had a lot more tourists coming into the shop and Sophie was great at both selling and discussing my canvas work. She had the same interpretative and artistic eyes as Tess, which was one of the reasons I hired her. Even her personality had various ‘Tess’ like similarities.

And speaking of Tess.

“Oh,” Elaine began, walking around to a side table near the kitchen. “You got another letter from Tiffany and Scott.” She brought the envelope back into the kitchen and handed it to me.

Tiffany and Scott were the names Tess and Samuel used when they sent me letters. My father had allowed a few little luxuries from my old life, but in order to contact me, they were only permitted to write. No email or electronic messaging of any kind. And, they had to use made up names and send their letters to a postbox in Italy which were then forwarded on to me. It was to ensure nobody, even my best friends, knew where I was. It seemed extreme but it was part of keeping me safe. And now that I had James, I couldn’t become complacent or too secure in my surroundings. Tess of course, loved that we could still stay in contact, even if it was something that felt like it was out of a war torn period of time. A year later Tess and Samuel were now a serious item, sending me letters together as a couple.

I took the letter and placed it my lap. “I’ll read it on my way to the studio,” I said, reaching for my fork.

“That’s a nice idea dear. To have friends that write to you. Not enough people write to each other anymore,” Elaine commented, setting out our plates and dishing up the bacon and eggs. One of the best things about Elaine was that she didn’t ask questions. She just accepted my life as it was and helped me as I needed. It was such a comfort not having to explain myself, although knowing that she was an employee to my Father, she would know not to pry.

After breakfast, I hugged and kissed my son good-bye, reminded Elaine about the bottles of breast milk in the fridge, and took off to my studio. The walk to my place of work was about thirty minutes from my little villa. I could have gotten around in the small golf carts many people who lived here used, but I preferred the walk. It was quiet time I used to think and reflect about where I started in my life, to where I was now. It also was the time I chose to read the letters I received from Tess and Samuel. I loved reading with the tropical air in my face, surrounded by such scenic natural beauty. I reached into my bag, feeling excited to hear from my past home and the people I would never forget. When I unfolded the letter I felt like I was transformed back to a different time, a time without distance or different lives. We were just two best friends catching up — shooting the breeze — just saying hey. Little pieces of normality in an otherwise abnormal life.

Dear Nina

 Hopefully this letter has reached you a lot quicker than the last one. I’m enjoying writing these letters. It’s different from email and texting. I kind of feel like we are long lost lovers or something. I actually get a small thrill when I go to my mail box now and I see your handwriting on an envelope. So much as happened since the last letter I sent. I’m guessing you’ve seen the news reports online and have been following the cases. The city has gone secret society crazy with all these new details surfacing daily. I don’t think it will take long before they are fully exposed, ripped open, and all their skeletons are thrown out of the proverbial closet. I know the justice will give you some kind peace...and you deserve that peace.

Your Dad also tells me you are painting again. I am so happy to hear that Nina. He says you even have a shop and staff and a part-time nanny helping you out. It sounds like everything is going well. I have to admit, it’s still weird to me that I see your Dad now. I’ve met him a few times whilst meeting up with Scott, but Scott told me he was the one who wanted the introduction. I think he feels connected with you when he talks with me. Maybe it gives him comfort somehow. He’s even threatened Scott about making sure he does right by me, and as you can imagine, Scott is taking the threat very seriously. Ha ha!

And on the topic of Scott, (I’m going to be a girl and really bitch right now) but oh my God — the guy can snore. It’s like sleeping next to a freight train Nina. Please tell me you know how to stop his supersonic sounds. It’s like this thunder invading my dreams every single night. I’ve tried kicking him a few times in the legs, but when I wake him up, he thinks it’s for something else entirely, and then I get no sleep at all!

But moving on from the big Italian engine that could...Have you heard from Colton lately? You said he has been writing you which I’m so happy about, but since all the arrests, he’s been missing in action. I’m a bit worried he has been targeted too. We usually all catch up for a drink once a month, but he’s missed the last three times we’ve all made plans. I’m not sure if he has been linked with any of the charges or not. Scott has tried to find out what is going on, but has not been able to get hold of him. The last time I saw Colton was when the first headline made the papers and he came to see your Dad. Maybe he had to lay low while until this whole thing settles down considering he works for one of the companies investigated.  I hate that he has just disappeared into thin air like this. But I could just be paranoid. It’s hard not to still be paranoid, especially remembering what the Lappell are capable of and with Scott’s line of work, although he had become quite the little business man. I’m really proud of what he is doing with the shops and cafes he is running for his father. I haven’t seen him pull out a weapon since...well, since that day.

I’m hoping you’ll send a picture of James soon. I know it’s too risky but we all desperately want to see how much he has grown. I haven’t seen a picture of him since your Dad showed me one from just after he was born. I bet he is as handsome and as charismatic as his father was. I can’t imagine what motherhood must be like, but I can be sure that you’re amazing at it and tackling it head-on. I wish I could see you with James, but it’s a comfort just knowing that you two are happy.

We all miss you Nina. That will never stop.

Write soon and give me some details on this new friend you told me about called Sophie. I bet she is nowhere as cool as me. Kidding!

Love you. Tiffany & Scott.

I folded up the letter and placed it carefully back in my bag. The odd balance of happy and sadness moved through me. Happiness to hear from Tess and knowing she was in a good place with Samuel and my Dad, but I was sad to hear that Clint, or should I say Colton, as he was referred to in our letters, had gone missing. The date on the letter was a couple of months ago. I had hoped that whatever was going on where Clint was concerned, he was safe and not in harm’s way. He had also been sending me letters but they were to tell me everything that was going on with the cases, arrests and the fall of the Lappell. He didn’t reveal any personal information about his private life. Perhaps he didn’t want to tell me he had someone new in his life, and was happy and content. But I hadn’t received any new letters from him for months, so I just had to pretend his life was in a better place. It was probably a good thing that I didn’t know anything about his private life anyway. A part of me had not let go of our past. It had been a year, and feelings I thought would be long gone, still felt like they consumed me. I was resolved to the idea that I would just have to live with what I lost. I couldn’t change it, even if a tiny part of me was still longing for him and his heart.

Sophie was waiting at the back door of my studio when I arrived. She was scrolling on her Smartphone, her face cringing at whatever she was looking at on her small screen. “Morning Sophie,” I said as I got closer.

She lifted her head, a huge smile on her face. “What’s up Nina? You see,” she said pointing to herself, “I’m here early for a change. Are you impressed?”

I took in her outfit, the short black jumpsuit with metallic edging and the pointed ankle boots. She had been out all night. Even the mascara on her eyes was smudged heavily and her short platinum blond hair seemed out of place. “Have you even gone home Sophie?”

“Of course I’ve been home. What kind of question is that?” She tried to sound offended, but I knew her better than that. I looked her up and down again like I knew a liar a mile away. I stared at her, waiting for her to break and tell me the truth. It didn’t take long. She rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine. I was out all night, but Nina it was such a good night. I’ll tell you all about it when we get inside.” I unlocked the door and we both stepped in. I flicked on the switches which illuminated the back room. Sophie took it upon herself to go out front and make sure it was open and ready to go.

Many tourists frequented my studio, and some even bought some of my canvas work to take back to their homes all over the world. They were the tourists who had a keen eye for my original style of art. Sale of my canvases were few and far between, but when I did sell them, they were always to very enthusiastic art connoisseurs. I loved the idea of my paintings hanging on walls all over the globe, being talked about, looked at, and appreciated in some way. It was one of my greatest dreams realized.