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.”