He moved slightly, positioning himself between Mary and any route of escape back toward the dining room. The hallway suddenly felt much narrower, much more isolated despite the ambient noise of the ship and the passengers still visible through the dining room doors.
“Alright.” She nodded and wheeled toward the open elevator as Colin leaned in with practiced ease and pressed the button to hold the door open.
She rolled forward, then turned around, positioning herself in the corner where Diane would have plenty of room to maneuver when she entered. Colin’s hands were on the handles of Diane’s wheelchair as he backed into the elevator so Diane would be facing out when they arrived on the next floor. As soon as he was inside, he pushed Diane’s chair forward, sending her careening away from the open elevator and back into the hall.
“Colin!” Diane cried out. “What are you?—”
But Colin was already lunging forward, slamming his fingers against the control panel, hitting the Door Close button. The elevator doors slid shut, sealing Mary inside alone with Colin.
“What are you doing?” she cried out, as he hit a lower floor button instead of going up to the level of the salon. She hated being trapped in small, closed spaces and could feel her panic rising. Twisting his head, he looked down at her with a harsh expression. “You’re going… down.”
She blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the sudden change in circumstances, but she blanked in panic.
She looked up as the elevator car reached Level A, then Colin hit the stop button as soon as the doors opened. She tried to steady her breathing, but the walls seemed to close in. Even with the hallway now exposed, the ambient noise of the ship was greatly muted on this level. He grabbed her by the handles and pushed her quickly down the hall, then through a door into a large closet. She tried to grab the wheels, but the forward momentum only scraped her hands against the rubber. “Stop! Help!” she screamed.
Colin shut the door, then turned to face her, and the mask of the helpful, devoted nephew dropped completely. His expression was cold, calculating, the eyes of a predator who’d just cornered his prey.
Mary’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat, but she kept her voice steady through sheer force of will. She refused to let him see her fear. “You can’t hide in here. Security will look for me.”
Frank replied, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. “It will take them time to figure out where you are.”
Mary tried to steady her thoughts to analyze her options. She had upper-body strength from pushing her wheelchair, and the Keepers had helped her train as she learned self-defense techniques. But now, all her knowledge seemed to leak out. But she had one surety… the absolute determination not to die in this supply closet.
Keep him talking. Buy time for Bert to come looking for her.
“You’re not really Colin Morrison, are you?” Mary said, her voice steady despite her racing heart.
His eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flickering across his face. Then he laughed, a sound that held no warmth or humor. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. How did you figure it out?”
“The photograph,” Mary said, watching his face for reactions. “Colin’s graduation photo. You and Colin looked similar, almost identical. Similar enough to fool someone who hadn’t seen him in years. Similar enough to take his place.”
His smile was cold and admiring. “That was what tipped me off to you. When dear auntie told me she had shown you family photos. Most people never look that closely. They see what they expect to see.”
Mary made herself meet his gaze directly, made herself project a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Are you Frank Marcone?”
His smile disappeared completely, his expression hardening into something cold and dangerous. “You’ve been very busy. Yes, I’m Frank. And Colin?” His voice took on a mocking tone. “Colin’s been dead for over four years. Buried under Swiss snow, cremated under my name, scattered to the winds like the privileged bastard he was.”
Mary’s stomach turned at the casual way he spoke about murdering his best friend, but she kept her expression neutral. Keep him talking. Keep him focused on his story, not on whatever he was planning to do to her.
“You killed him,” Mary said quietly. “On that skiing trip.”
“Killed him?” Frank leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. But Mary could see the tension coiled in his muscles, ready to spring if she made any sudden moves. “I liberated myself from a life of nothing. Colin had everything handed to him. Rich parents, trust fund, guaranteed inheritance from Aunt Diane. Do you know what I had? A scholarship and a mother who died while I was in college. A father who never even stuck around long enough to put his name on my birth certificate.”
His voice was bitter, resentful, the accumulated anger of years of perceived injustice. Mary realized what had driven Frank to murder. Not just greed, but envy. The corrosive belief that life had been unfair, that Colin had what Frank wanted.
“Did your mother ever talk about your father?” she asked, wanting to keep him talking as well as seeing if there was the possibility of Colin being his half brother.
Frank snorted. “Oh, yeah. He was a deadbeat drunk, and I was the result of a one-night stand. I didn’t know for a long time even though I kept asking about who my dad was. By the time I was about twelve, she finally told me. Some guy she met at a bar named Barry Parker.” He snorted again. “I took care of him.”
Mary just stared, absorbing this new information. I took care of him. She had no idea what he meant but had a bad feeling it involved Barry’s demise. Wanting to keep him talking, she said, “The trip… the trip to Switzerland?”
Frank let out a low growl. “That skiing trip was supposed to be a vacation,” Frank continued, his eyes distant with memory. “Just two best friends celebrating Colin’s promotion. But all I could think about was how easy everything was for him. How he’d never struggled for anything. How he would inherit millions while I’d work until I died and still have nothing.”
“So you murdered him for his inheritance,” Mary said, praying he would keep talking to give her more of a chance to figure out how to get help.
“It was so easy,” Frank said, and there was a terrible satisfaction in his tone. “Encouraging him to go out even with a storm coming. I pointed out a route that looked challenging but was actually dangerous.” He smiled, cold and triumphant. “The storm was coming in fast. I couldn’t have planned it better. A push by me, and Colin went down a steep ravine, buried under snow, and when search and rescue found a body three days later...”
Mary felt bile rise in her throat. “You’d switched the identification.”