Love of Her Lives (23 page)

The jingle on the radio continued. “Put your house to work for you. We can show you how at Brown’s Financial.” She changed the station. Home equity wasn’t a priority right now.

She hit the brakes as a thought occurred to her. A few months ago, she’d seen a cheque on Matthew’s desk for over $300,000, payable to his law firm. She’d joked that he could buy them dinner in Paris that night. He’d explained the money wasn’t his, but was held in trust for a mortgage he’d handled for a client. What if Matthew decided to keep a few of those cheques for himself? But then the client wouldn’t get their house and Matthew would be caught.

A car appeared in her rear–view mirror, so she pulled off to the shoulder as her thoughts accelerated — Matthew, Bruce, Belize … Mrs. Miller, Chantal Desjardins — two real estate lawyers, one tropical property, one homeowner, one real estate agent. They were all connected to real estate in some way. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she recalled her last conversation with Mrs. Miller from Meals on the Move.
Last week, I found my passport, of all things, on the floor beside my desk instead of in the drawer where I always keep it.

What if the client had no idea their house had been mortgaged? Was that possible?

Mrs. Miller wasn’t suffering memory loss. What if someone took her passport, someone who needed a copy of her identification, so they could mortgage her house? Someone who planned to blame Beth.

Because of her lottery winnings, Beth had not needed a mortgage to purchase her house in Ashbury, so she wasn’t clear on the paperwork required. To substantiate her budding theory, she needed to know if mortgages existed on Mrs. Miller’s house and possibly those belonging to some of the other Meals on the Move clients. The only person who might release this information to her was Matthew’s secretary. She’d known Amanda, his secretary, much longer than he had. Amanda was the little sister of one of Beth’s best friends.

Was she taking an unnecessary risk by communicating with Amanda?

No, she decided, if she had any hope of clearing her name, she might need to take a risk or two. Matthew would never disclose his personal business with anyone he worked with, especially his secretary, so Amanda wouldn’t be apprised of the recent developments between them. She would likely know of the accusations against Beth, but Beth would speak as if she had Matthew’s support and that he required this information.

The service station should be 20 kilometers or so down the road. She would find a phone there. She also needed to check her cell phone messages. Hopefully Chantal Desjardins had returned her call.

Ten minutes later, Beth pulled into the lot and parked. She slung her purse over her shoulder as she entered the restaurant. A phone hung on the wall beside the restroom. Pretending to study her fingernails, she waited for a tall man with some serious beard growth to finish his conversation. He smiled at her and said
bonsoir
. With her adequate French, she knew he’d not accused her of being a wanted criminal. The people in the restaurant didn’t even glance her way.

Beth dialed Matthew’s law office, praying they hadn’t closed for the day. As soon as the phone rang, Amanda asked her to hold. A few minutes passed before her voice came back on line. “Thank you for waiting. How can I help you?”

“Hi Amanda, it’s Beth.”

“Oh, Beth. I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you? I just read the newspaper. What a ridiculous accusation. Hold on a minute.” Amanda sounded like she was on fast forward. Beth heard Jason, Matthew’s partner, asking her to call the bank right away. Amanda came back on the line. “Sorry, we’ve got one of Matthew’s irate clients here trying to get into their house, and we don’t have the papers from their bank yet. They’re taking a strip off Jason. I know Matthew is tied up trying to help you.”

Is that what he told her? “Yes, he’s quite busy at the moment and has asked me to get information for him, just a quick mortgage record.”

“Okay, Beth, not a problem, but I’ll have to call you back or Jason will be dead meat.”

That wouldn’t work. “My battery is dead. I’ll have to call you back, Amanda. All he needs are some mortgage numbers for a few clients — Edna Miller, Dorothy Fitzhenry and Lucille Wickwire.” She didn’t care about the numbers; she only wanted to know if mortgages existed.

“Give me a half hour or so. Oh, and tell Matthew to call me right away, or
he’s
dead meat too.”

Beth promised to relay the message. Hopefully Matthew would be dead meat soon. She hung up and retrieved her messages. Chantal had returned her call asking Beth to contact her as soon as possible to discuss the listing of her fake house. She dialed Chantal’s number.

“Bonjour, RE/MAX, c’est Chantal Desjardins.”

“Pardon, parlez-vous anglais?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Hello, Chantal, this is Sue Smitherson calling.” Beth had assumed the name of her favourite high school teacher. She explained that she’d like to meet with Chantal the next day to discuss her relocation to Ontario. “I’ll need some mortgage advice as well, if you know anyone who can help.”

“The stars must be aligned. Yes, I have a contact in Ontario for you, but I can’t see you tomorrow. I’m fully booked. I can fit you in right now if you are free. Why don’t you stop by my office, and we’ll talk about listing your house.”

Stars aligned, my ass. Chantal Desjardins could be as corrupt as Matthew. “I’m sorry, Chantal, but I can’t today.” Not without her warrior bodyguard. “Can you recommend an agent who’s available tomorrow?”

“Let me see.” A quick pause. “I do have some time first thing in the morning. Shall we say nine?” What a surprise.

“Nine is good. I’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone, convinced that Chantal Desjardins should be approached with caution.

Next, she dialed her father. When the answering machine picked up, she left a quick message saying she was fine and would call the next day. Hopefully she’d not need Dad’s lawyer after all.

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the paneled wood wall of the hunting cabin. He swallowed hard and stepped away from the bed where Bruce lay dead behind him. Forcing a deep breath in through his nose, he felt the warm exhale against the roof of his mouth. With each long breath in and out, his mind sharpened and composure flowed back through his veins.

When Bruce had reacted to the peanut–laced chili and found his EpiPen empty, Matthew pretended to call 911. Earlier on, Matthew had dumped the epinephrine when Bruce had wandered into the woods for a piss. Bruce knew they were too far from the hospital for an ambulance to arrive in time, so Matthew insisted on driving Bruce out to meet them halfway. Unfortunately for Bruce, the ambulance never made it. When he’d dragged the body into the cabin from the van, Matthew’s cell phone had been ringing in his jacket pocket. He’d already ignored two messages from his office and that was out of character, so he needed to return that call.

Matthew scanned the woods as he approached the van. Did the woods seem stiller than they had before? He shook off the odd feeling, retrieved his phone, and listened to his messages. One from Jason, two from Amanda, all concerning the McKinley’s mortgage closing that day. “Shit.” Perfect time for a fuck–up and one he had to deal with now. He checked his watch while dialing his office.

Amanda answered and filled him in on the developing McKinley crisis. With steadiness that impressed even him, Matthew told her where to find the bank’s instructions.

“Thanks, Matthew,” Amanda said. “The McKinley’s are due in an hour, and I didn’t know what I was going to tell them. If you can hold on a minute, I’ll get that information you wanted.”

His mind scrambled through the past few days, but he couldn’t remember asking Amanda for any information. What the hell else had he forgotten? “Refresh my memory, Amanda. What information?”

“Well it was Beth that asked, but hold on and I’ll — ”

He froze. “When did you talk to Beth?”

“Just a minute ago. Isn’t she with you?”

Pulling the keys from his pocket, he got in the van and started the engine. “No, I have no idea where she is. She’s been elusive lately, and I’m concerned about her. It’s hard to believe she would steal from her Meals on the Move clients, but something’s up. I’m worried she may be in some sort of trouble. Her cell phone is dead, and I’d like to help. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She did sound a little odd. Do you want those mortgage numbers?”

Mortgage numbers. Why would Beth want mortgage numbers? Ice cold fingers clenched his gut. “Yes, but first look on your call display and give me the number Beth called from.”

Amanda read off a Bell Canada payphone number. “I know a website to locate the phone booth, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that. Which names did Beth give you?”

Amanda gave him the names. Matthew cursed silently, but his demeanour was collected when he took the location of the phone booth, and he smiled when Amanda couldn’t locate the three mortgage numbers Beth had requested.

“I’ve got to go, Matthew. Say hi to Beth and tell her to keep her chin up. I know she can count on you.”

“I will, Amanda. I’m doing everything I can to help her out of this mess.”

• • •

The smell of restaurant food was a sharp reminder Beth hadn’t eaten since eggs earlier that day. After picking up a newspaper, she sat down at a table and ordered the roast chicken dinner special, then asked for another to go. Calum might require some appeasement when he discovered what she’d done. She drew a deep relieving breath. Her theory, even if it needed work, alleviated the feeling of helplessness and confusion that had sidled her since she’d dug up that backpack. At least she was no longer puzzled by the appearance of a warrior in her life. A warrior whom she couldn’t wait to get back to and share her thoughts.

It struck her odd that Amanda said she’d just read the news about Beth — strange that the news hadn’t travelled faster. While she ate, she searched the newspaper for further information, but found nothing. She finished her dinner and decided to take Calum’s food to the car before calling Amanda back. Outside in the parking lot, she blinked as sunlight glinted off her side–view mirror. She looked up to the sky. The sun blazed down from a high point straight overhead.

How could that be? She and Calum hadn’t returned to the cabin until late in the afternoon. It had to be close to six by now.

A cool prickle began at the tip of her spine and spread like mice feet scampering up the back of her neck. To shake the odd feeling, she rolled her head on her shoulders and then scanned the parking lot affirming she was completely safe. As she shifted the newspaper to reach for her keys, her eyes fell on the date: Friday, May 15. It had to be a mistake. With the ceaseless events, she’d lost track of the days, but it couldn’t possibly be Friday.

She took a step closer to her car as a vehicle pulled into the next space. Her mind scrambled backwards to find dates. They’d escaped Quebec City on Thursday. On Friday, she’d chased Calum around the cabin. She would have smiled at that, but felt too disoriented at the moment. That meant it had to be … Sunday? But that didn’t make sense either. If it was Sunday then Matthew’s office would be closed.

The sound of a van door sliding open behind her was like a warning surfacing through a sound sleep. A chuckle turned her blood cold, and she heard the words: “Hello, Beth.” A gloved hand covered her mouth and nose. A rotting smell assailed her nostrils. Calum’s dinner dumped to the ground. Beth wasn’t aware of another thing.

• • •

Calum didn’t get the rest of the wood cut. Something wasn’t right. He felt it in his bones, and instead of throwing Beth over his shoulder like he’d wanted, he’d let her get under his skin and had gotten angry. Bloody hell! Now he was angry and worried.

“Finn!”

The zephyr ruffling the fine hairs on his neck did nothing to ease his trepidation. The immortal appeared as a waver, flickering in and out, until finally coming solid.

Finn sprung off the top of the wood pile and circled Calum, his long white hair slicked back off his head in a queue. His iridescent eyes dropped to Calum’s groin then flashed back up. “You are a full–fledged warrior once again. How is it?”

“‘Tis good. I need to find Bethia now.”

“I noticed. You’ve been like a rutting buck. Perhaps the lass needs a moment to acclimatise. She might have caught a chill on her behind.”

The bastard. “You watch us?”

“As your liege, I am always aware. And you, human, are doing splendidly.”

Calum exhaled loudly. Of course Finn watched them. He’d made that clear early on. Calum was entertainment, and Finn didn’t want for anything else. This brought to mind an omission. “You didn’t assign a third task, Finn, yet I am restored.”

Humour played in Finn’s eyes, though his mouth remained a hard line. “Oh, but I did.”

“Patience? I expected something more challenging.”

“That was but a small part of the third task, and I beg to differ — patience was quite a struggle for you.”

“Because Beth wouldn’t keep her hands off me. I don’t know what got into the woman. She had me by the balls.”

Finn propped his boot up on the stump and regarded his fingernails innocently. His gaze swept up to behold Calum’s dawning expression.

“Bloody hell, what did you do?”

“The third task was Bethia’s. I told her about your
problem
and suggested she do something about it, but to achieve full satisfaction, I insisted she keep you in the dark about our chat.”

She’d known? “You did what! Of all the humiliations! And you — you’ve no right to muddle her mind.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head daring Calum to further question his tactics. “You forget your station, human. Need I remind you?”

Calum wanted to strangle him. Was there no restraining the embarrassment Finn would have him suffer? No wonder the lass couldn’t hold her humour, squeezing his bloody circulation off to have her way. Yet despite all her innocence, she’d done it. She’d not allowed him to intimidate her. She’d lain with him and given him everything.