Identity Crisis (14 page)

Memories of her dad’s death came flooding back. He’d died mere minutes before she’d arrived at the hospital. She hadn’t realized all the things he might have told her had she made it there in time. She’d have told him she loved him — something they’d rarely said to each other. She’d stood at his side, certain that the aching, hollow feeling in her chest had also been a sign of a heart attack.

“At least it’s not rented until next weekend,” Kate said. “A sheet of plastic will do the trick until you have time to fix it.”

“I can take care of it,” Jack said. “But right now I’m gonna check out the canoes. Got them all strapped down so they should be okay. Hope the people that were still out pulled up on shore and made it to the basement of nearby houses. Thank God the campers had already returned from the race.”

“Where do they go in case of a storm?” Olivia asked.

“They have enough boats to evacuate the island and head over to Harborview Bar ‘til the storm passes.”

Roger glanced over at the mini-golf course next door. “I’ll see how the course fared.”

Kate gave him a concerned look. “Maybe you should wait until you’re not so upset.”

“I’m fine,” Roger snapped, apparently tired of her fussing.

“Why don’t you go with him?” Olivia told Kate. “I’ll take that basket upstairs, then join you.” She eyed the box of letters in the basket Kate had set by her feet.

Kate smiled. “That’d be nice, dear.”

“I’ll tag along,” Ethan said. “See if we have some repairs to do.”

Roger shook his head. “Can’t have you spending your entire vacation helping rebuild this course if needed. Wouldn’t be right.”

“We aren’t water people,” Ethan said. “Came here to relax. I find working with my hands relaxing. I’d like to help out.”

Olivia gave him an appreciative smile. He nodded faintly, turning and following Roger toward the golf course.

She ran her dad’s urn back to the cottage. She returned and took the basket up to her grandparents’ bedroom, her heart racing like a funnel cloud across an open field. She closed the door behind her and set down the basket. Hands shaking, she took the top off the box. Since she’d have to steam open Kate’s letters to read them, she decided to start with a large open manila envelope.

A brief note accompanying a stack of papers was in her dad’s handwriting and read
Please hang onto these. Our safety may one day depend on them.

No address or postmark on the envelope led her to believe her dad had given it to Kate before they’d gone into hiding.

She thumbed through the stack of papers, discovering a half dozen provenances, each with sales receipts, letters of ownership, and other legal documents attached. Not for any of the high-end or middle-market paintings at the museum, but for middle-market paintings that twenty-four years ago probably sold for a hundred grand to a million each, and currently went for five to ten times that, depending on the market. Paintings like her dad had sold.

He’d obviously planned to use them to buy their safety if someone came after them. Had he kept the paintings in San Francisco, separate from the provenances? Had her dad fabricated these provenances, as well as painted the forgeries? Had he been a one-man show, except for the mob’s connections to buyers?

Hard to imagine somebody else hadn’t created the provenances. Fabricating a provenance took a high level of expertise and a lot of time and research. It required compiling catalogs for auctions that never existed and sales receipts for transactions that never occurred. All of which had to be untraceable and undisputable.

These were very likely what her dad’s killer was after and proved he was from her dad’s past. So how had the mob or a former partner tracked him down?

A snitch in the U.S. Marshals? She no longer believed Ethan was crooked. He cared about her safety. About doing his job. But he wasn’t the only U.S. Marshal who knew about her circumstances.

Just how much did Mike know?

Maybe Roy Howard knew her dad had been hiding the paintings and he’d confided in Mike. How well had Mike known Roy? Ethan had mentioned they’d all worked together on various witness protection assignments. According to Ethan, Mike knew art from working in the FBI’s Art Crimes Division. Her condo was trashed while Mike had supposedly been guarding it. If she told Ethan about the provenances, and asked him not to say anything to Mike, would he? She couldn’t trust Ethan not to. He’d likely find her story farfetched and would never believe Mike was dirty. And really, her evidence was circumstantial, possibly a product of her imagination.

She stuffed the provenances in her purse, then stuck the empty envelope back in the box. Kate probably hadn’t looked inside it in years. She wanted to sneak a stack of her grandma’s unmailed letters, too, so she could learn all about her family’s life after she and her dad had left Five Lakes. However, her mind was already reeling from all the information she’d uncovered today. She’d save them for another time.

She headed back outside. Everyone, including Ethan, was at the mini-golf course. She stood on the porch and punched the museum’s phone number into her cell. No answer. Did Bella have anyone to check on her? Ethan had mentioned Olivia’s grandpa Newman was dead. Had they had other children? Ethan hadn’t said, but he hadn’t mentioned Tracy and her parents either.

She had to check on Bella.

She glanced over at Roger assessing the damage to the course, his hand once again to his chest. Ethan needed to stay there in case Roger had a heart attack from the stress. Roger needed Ethan’s protection more than she did right now. Besides, that guy had set off the bomb at one in the morning their time. No way could he have already made it to Five Lakes.

Focused earlier on getting to the safety of the basement, she hadn’t given Ethan back the car keys. She’d slipped them in her pocket, and they’d both forgotten about them. Not that he’d expected her to sneak off with the SUV. She slipped the keys from her dress pocket, praying Bella was okay.

The mini-golf course’s sign,
Around the World in 18 Holes
, was still intact, unlike many of the structures. The wind had taken off the top of the Eiffel Tower, and the Great Wall of China wasn’t looking so great.

A distressed look consumed Roger’s face as he bent over and picked up a clock face belonging on top of Big Ben. “Built this course with my dad the summer after I graduated from high school. Had a great time.”

Ethan couldn’t imagine wanting to have spent time with his father.

“Strange how so much in the world has changed while some things have stayed the same,” Roger said. “All these tourist attractions are still so popular.” He peered over at a castle’s damaged tower and missing drawbridge. It was pretty much intact except for being drenched from the water once contained in its surrounding moat. “Hope to take Kate to Blarney Castle in Ireland one day. She was born there. Left when she was six, and she’s never been back. Not sure if we’ll make it there or not. You travel much?”

“Mainly in the U.S.” He’d recently spent two weeks at a roach hotel in Monterey — saw nothing but talk shows on TV — and a month at a cabin in the boonies of Northern California — saw nothing but woods. This was a nice change of pace from his usual safe houses. “Would like to go to Europe one day. My mother was Hungarian. She never made it to Hungary. You should take Kate to Ireland.”

Roger nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Suppose I should. Right now, I should get moving on this course.” He let out a labored sigh, looking overwhelmed by the magnitude of the project that lay ahead. He placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “That’s mighty nice of you to help out. This place has been in the family for three generations. Can’t imagine losing it.”

Like Olivia had mentioned earlier, Ethan couldn’t imagine living in one place for so long. However, Olivia longed to spend her life in one home, whereas he’d never had the desire. Yet, having a lake home like Roger’s here held a certain appeal. Having something to show for generations of work.

“Amazing what a little paint and some wood will do,” Ethan said.

“Can’t do repairs without money.” Roger pushed his Packers cap back and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. Shouldn’t be discussing money problems with guests. Haven’t even mentioned it to Kate.”

“I won’t say a thing.” Except maybe to Olivia. She’d be crushed if her grandparents lost their legacy. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen. For their sake, and for Olivia’s.

A siren wailed in the distance, and they glanced across the lake at a flashing blue light on a boat zipping across the water.

“Looks like they’re headed over to Sunset Lake,” Roger muttered, pressing his fingers against his chest, a pained look on his face. “This ain’t good.”

“You got a friend on Sunset Lake?”

Roger shook his head. “No, but … ” he trailed off.

Ethan followed the man’s gaze across the lakes. What was up?

• • •

Roger peered in the direction of Sunset Lake, worried that the storm had uncovered the past. Even if it had, what were the chances the authorities would figure it out? They’d done a damn good job covering their tracks twenty-four years ago.

That night was a blur. Partially because he’d tried his darndest to forget it. He couldn’t be certain about anything that had happened that night. He could handle the consequences of that evening if it came down to it; however, he didn’t want his family to suffer, to lose their home. They’d lived there since Kate and he had married. Losing it would hurt Kate something fierce. He’d already lost a son and granddaughter. He couldn’t lose his home.

He hadn’t always been the best father, out drinking a bit too much with his buddies, missing family functions. After Andrew and Olivia went into hiding, that all changed. His family came first. He’d somehow thought if he changed his ways, God would return them home one day. But He hadn’t.

He stared in the direction of Sunset Lake. He didn’t know which would be more devastating to his family; losing the cottages due to financial problems, or the lake level getting lower.

• • •

According to the women at the beauty salon, they’d gone to the basement during the storm, but Bella hadn’t come down, and now her car was gone. Olivia was preparing to head to Bella’s when her phone rang. Rather than Ethan, having just discovered her disappearance, it was Rachel, in a total panic.

“Some guy,” Rachel sucked in a gasp of air then let out a ragged breath, “just came into the gallery with a gun, demanding to see,” another ragged breath, “our stock of paintings in the back. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

Olivia came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the parking lot. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She blew out a calming breath. “The police are here. Plainclothes officers. Told them we need to be discreet or our clients would panic if they discovered what had happened. It’s so bizarre. He had a gun and could have cleaned out the place, but he was looking for specific paintings. Wanted to know what we’d just gotten in this past week, particularly what you’d brought in. I told him it’d been two weeks since we’d gotten anything new in.” She described the guy from the cemetery right down to his limp.

So this lunatic was looking for paintings. The forgeries to go with the provenances she had?

“Did he damage any of the paintings?”

“No.”

Since he hadn’t sliced any paintings, he likely realized her dad wouldn’t have hidden forgeries behind original paintings that were worth almost as much as the forgeries themselves. If her dad had hidden them at all, it would have been behind low value paintings, like the ones he’d owned.

So, this guy must realize that if Olivia had found the paintings first, she would have assumed such valuable paintings were forgeries, given her dad’s past. He obviously didn’t know her well enough because she’d destroy forgeries. Well, except the forgeries from the boutique …

“Hopefully the security camera got a good shot of him,” Olivia said.

“Police already checked. His face isn’t visible on camera. He knew the locations and never looked directly into them. Besides, he had on a Panama hat and dark glasses.”

She told Rachel to close for the rest of the day, and then called Ethan.

“Where the hell are you?” Ethan asked.

“I ran by the museum to check on Bella, but got a call from Rachel.” She gave him the skinny on the guy showing up at her gallery.

“Is Rachel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll send Mike over there to check out the security camera.”

“The guy was well disguised and never looked in the direction of the camera. He knew what he was doing.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’ll be back
now
.”

“This guy is still in San Francisco.”

“I’m not ruling out that he doesn’t have a partner and has figured out about Wisconsin.”

“All right. I’m on my way.” Right after she checked on Bella.

She disconnected.

It would take her twenty minutes tops to swing by Bella’s and make sure she was okay. She pulled Bella’s business card from her wallet and reviewed the directions to her house. While driving along the back country roads, Olivia kept glancing in the rearview mirror, playing
I Spy
. Nobody was following her since there was nobody behind her, period. But Ethan was right. Although unlikely, the guy could have a partner.

Bella lived in a large brick house on an acre of mature trees. Thankfully, a thick limb from a maple tree had fallen next to the house rather than on it. When Olivia pulled in the driveway, her gaze locked on the porch, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing at attention.

The porch from her nightmare.

Unlike Bella, whose dark hair was now white and green eyes had been dulled a bit by life’s tragedies, the brick porch looked the same with its white wooden swing. Bella walked out the front door, and Olivia’s mind flashed back to her grandma in a long floral dress, crying out Olivia’s name as she was pulled from her arms. It wasn’t only Bella’s cry she heard, but also her own. A haunting cry that sent a shiver up Olivia’s spine.