Page 32 of Witness To Murder
Owen shifted his attention to the detective. “The agency confirmed the roommate’s attendance at Northwestern as well as her employment at the hospital.”
“Whoever this woman—your roommate—is,” Lambert said to Leah, “she is not Isla Morris.” He shifted his focus to Owen. “I have reason to believe the woman who invited Leah to move in with her is Alyssa Jones, and has been pretending to be Morris for just over three years.”
“We’ll need more details,” Owen said, visibly unconvinced.
Leah couldn’t speak. Her mind was still reeling.
“Isla Morris and Alyssa Jones were friends. They looked so much alike they could have been twins—even her mother said so. Olive, Isla’s real mother, cremated her daughter after her tragic suicide three and a half years ago. In her grief, she foolishly allowed this Alyssa Jones to come and go in her home at will. She saw Alyssa as a sort of second daughter and firmly believed she could trust her completely. After Isla’s death, she clung to Alyssa. Depended on her. Alyssa seemed to be a godsend.”
Leah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Just when she thought this situation could not get any more bizarre. “You are absolutely certain this person I’ve known all this time is not Isla Morris? The woman I’ve met who gave us the key to the lake house is not her mother?”
“Correct,” Lambert confirmed. “In fact, the woman you met who posed as Isla’s mother has vanished. Her home looks as if it was ransacked and abandoned. We’re still trying to identify her.”
“I’m somewhat baffled,” Owen admitted. “My agency found nothing in Isla Morris’s background to suggest she was deceased. I’m aware the department has its resources, but none better than ours. Where is your in-depth knowledge coming from?”
“Frankly, I was confused myself when this thing with Douglas started,” Lambert confessed. “You see, my wife and Olive Morris were friends back in high school. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but when Isla died, Olive was devastated. She called my wife and begged her to persuade me to look into the girl’s death because Olive was convinced her daughter wouldn’t commit suicide. I conducted an unofficial investigation of sorts. Followed up on the coroner’s report, that sort of thing.”
He exhaled a weary breath. “And I spoke at length with the friend, Alyssa. She insisted the intense pressure Isla was under at school had her on edge. She went into great detail about the anxiety and other issues Isla hadn’t told her mother about. She was so sincere. Damned persuasive. I bought the story hook, line and sinker. So you see, the mistake was mine.”
“But you didn’t say anything,” Leah said, bewildered and feeling more hurt than ever. “You questioned me repeatedly, and you said nothing.” He’d made her feel like a criminal!
“When I interviewed you,” he explained, “early Sunday morning, I was stunned to discover that Isla’s identity had been stolen. But I needed to let this thing play out in hopes of discovering the whole truth. I believe Alyssa Jones took over everything for Olive after Isla’s death. Olive went into seclusion. Didn’t talk to anyone. Didn’t hold a memorial service for her daughter. She just stopped caring about anything, which likely left Jones with free rein…until she had everything she wanted. Birth certificate, family photos, money…whatever. If I’d had any doubts about my conclusion, those were gone when I checked with the medical examiner’s office and no file for Isla Morris wasfound. This woman—Alyssa Jones, aka Isla Morris—may or may not be a professional, but she orchestrated the takeover of Isla’s life like a professional.”
Owen shifted in his chair, the move drawing Leah’s attention. He asked, “Why are you telling us this now?”
Lambert studied Owen a moment, then looked to Leah. “I’m telling you this, and I shouldn’t. If my commander learns about my personal involvement in the case, he’ll take me off this investigation. I need to find the truth. I owe it to Isla and her mother. If you will work with me—play along—we may be able to draw this Alyssa Jones or whoever she is out of hiding.”
Leah shifted her attention to Owen. “I would really like to help.”
Owen nodded, then said to Lambert, “We’ll need more information about what you have planned. Starting with, where is the real Mrs. Morris?”
Lambert’s expression grew even more somber. “You have no idea how much I wish I could answer that question. I’ve gone to her home and gotten no answer. Her neighbors say they haven’t seen her in ages.” He shrugged. “I may have had a look around in her home, unofficially, and all appeared to be just as it should be. So, to answer your question, I have no idea.”
“What is it that you expect of my client?” Owen prompted.
“Well, my official reason for calling you here today,” Lambert said to Leah, “was to let you know that you’re no longer a person of interest in the death of Raymond Douglas. I’ll keep working the case, but I fear I won’t find the answers I’m looking for without your help.” He shifted to Owen then. “If you can protect Ms. Gerard, I believe I can draw out this Alyssa Jones, or whoever she is—bear in mind that according to all our databases, she does not exist. Anyway, I fear this is the only way I’m going to learn what has happened to Olive Morris. I’ll startwith a press briefing to tell the world that Douglas’s body has been found and Leah Gerard is innocent of his murder.”
Owen nodded. “This will lead the roommate to believe the life insurance will pay off. She’ll be watching Ms. Gerard.”
“Yes.” Lambert nodded, his expression hopeful. “I believe this was her intent all along.” He glanced at Leah. “But I worry that I can’t prove it without your help.”
Leah looked to Owen and nodded. She wanted to help. The person she had trusted the past three years had betrayed her and likely had plans to kill her. Leah wanted to see her go down, and anything she could do toward that end was fine by her. All she needed was for Owen to have her back.
“We can work with you on this,” Owen agreed. “But we’ll need assistance with another matter.”
Lambert’s expression turned guarded. “I’m listening.”
“Chris Painter has resurfaced, and Ms. Gerard needs details. Perhaps even a visit with the man. It’s my understanding the Chicago PD has him under guard at the hospital.”
Lambert considered the request while Leah’s heart thumped harder and harder.
Finally, he said, “I think I can arrange that.”
Owen looked to Leah; she nodded again, then he turned back to Lambert. “Then we have a deal.”
In light of the fact that Leah was now officially cleared of suspicion, she should have been happy. But what she felt was betrayed, used…and terrified—terrified that what she would learn would be far worse than what she already knew.
Terrified that Chris Painter would tell her secret.
