Carter commented that the plane’s cabin had been remarkably intact. They found one body—that of the Canadian pilot, Buddy Dickinson—but no other bodies were inside. But it was the discovery of a passport belonging to Mr. Frederick Pearce that had captured the world’s interest.
Holly searched for information about Frederick Pearce. According to the first article that appeared, Fred was wanted in relation to the disappearance of the famous actress, Angelique Forster. The fact that he was a police officer made Holly put her cup down and shuffle forward on her seat.
Angelique vanished on the morning of May 25th 1980, and her kidnapper had demanded five hundred thousand dollars in exchange for her safe return.
The next day, Angelique’s husband, David, was apparently instructed to put half a million dollars cash into a suitcase and leave it at a bus stop near Seattle’s famous Pike Place Market.
However, neither Frederick, Angelique, nor the money were ever seen again.
Frederick was consequently accused of Angelique’s kidnapping and murder, and if the tabloids were to be believed, he’d been sighted in London, Mexico, and Hawaii.
Frederick’s mother was Dorothy, the elderly woman whose sad image had been flashing across Holly’s mind for weeks. Dorothy had always maintained her son’s innocence.
Holly flicked her television on and fast-forwarded to the footage she’d already watched dozens of times. She paused on the image of Dorothy holding up her son’s photo, and the depth of her grief pooling in her graying eyes tugged at Holly’s heart.
Until either Angelique or Frederick were found, Dorothy would never be able to prove her son’s innocence.
Holly knew exactly what it was like to be blamed for another person’s death. She was the one who’d convinced Milton to bring his son along on that fateful trip—Milton’s ex-wife had never let her forget it. It was ridiculous, really. No one could’ve predicted that helicopter crash.
But it didn’t stop the accusations that cut so deep she could barely breathe.
Holly cast Victoria’s callous blame from her mind and googled Angelique Forster.
Angelique’s rise to fame started at eight, when she’d starred in a series of Fluffo advertisements in the 1950s. Curious, Amber googled Fluffo and discovered it was once a popular vegetable shortening. After those commercials, Angelique changed her name to Angel Forster and went on to star in a variety of sitcoms before she landed her most prominent role. Unfortunately, halfway through the production of Smokey and the Bandit II, she was kidnapped and never seen again.
Holly scanned the internet for pictures of Angel. The actress had an evocative beauty about her. An elegance that radiated from within. Yet Holly couldn’t help but notice the sadness in her eyes. She had the feeling Angel had upheld an appearance that her life was amazing, yet harbored a deep secret that was rotting her core. There were many photos of Angel, although very few had her smiling. As Holly enlarged one photo after the next, it cemented her conviction that it was indeed Angel’s body she’d seen in the icy grave.
Her mind skipped to the frozen couple. Their embrace was nothing short of loving. She was curled up in his lap, leaning into him, and his arm was around her back so his hand rested on her hip. His other hand was on her waist, hugging her tight.
They were not kidnapper and victim—they were lovers.
Holly just had to prove it.
Two hours into her research, she found an article that slotted another piece of the puzzle into place. In January 1979, police were called to the home of David and Angel Forster after neighbors reported a disturbance. Angel was treated for facial bruising after she’d supposedly fallen down a set of stairs.
The attending police officer was Frederick Pearce.
Holly searched for more information, and one particular photo had hit the papers like a firestorm. She gasped at the image of Angel with a hideously swollen black eye. Holly was no expert, but she’d bet a million dollars Angel didn’t get her black eye from falling down steps.
She was reminded of a similar photo she’d seen of herself. It was during one of her searches to piece together the missing eight months of her life. The photo was in a newspaper and had been taken just after she’d been rescued off the mountain. A broken eye socket was the reason for the mammoth bruise surrounding her left eye.
Fortunately for her, Holly had absolutely no recollection of that injury, or the subsequent pain it would’ve produced.
Frederick’s mother had always proclaimed her son’s innocence, and she’d referenced that particular photo often, proffering it as evidence that it was David who’d killed Angelique and disposed of her body, and not her son. Holly turned to the television and stared into Dorothy’s eyes. “You may be right,” she said to the still screen.
A scenario began to form in her mind. Angel had been in an abusive relationship with David. Being famous probably made it difficult for her to reveal this ugly secret. When Frederick Pearce had come to her home on the night of the incident, she may’ve confided in the handsome young police officer. Together, they hatched a plan to pretend to kidnap Angel so she could escape her very public life. They escaped with the money and somehow made it to Canada, but three weeks later their plane crashed.
They survived, only to fall into that crevasse and freeze to death.
Holly’s heart ached for them. They’d escaped one horror to fall into another.
Her heart also ached for Dorothy, that poor mother who never knew what happened to her son. Fred’s father had died six years ago, never knowing either. Holly didn’t want Dorothy to go to her grave with the same sadness.
While Dorothy was distraught over her son’s disappearance and the endless cruel accusations, it appeared that both David’s and Angel’s parents reveled in her misery. Every year on the anniversary of the disappearance they’d pop up in the media, pleading for someone, anyone with information, to come forward. By the looks of their abundant photos, they seemed to enjoy the annual attention. For more than thirty years, both sets of parents had worked together to host an annual ball that marked the date of Angel’s disappearance.
Holly thought of Victoria, and imagined she’d do something like that too.
She clicked her mouse onto her calendar. The anniversary of Angel and David’s disappearance was seven months away.
Seven months. Could I have answers by then? It’d be wonderful to save Dorothy from another year of hell. Seven more months of training. She was already surprised with what she’d achieved in just one month.
May 25. Seven months. It was the perfect deadline to aim for.
Her dangling carrot.
She tugged the keyboard forward, searched Google until she found what she was looking for, then picked up her phone and dialed the number on the screen.
“Welcome to National Geographic, how may I direct your call?”
“Hello, I was wondering if you could help me. My name is Amber Hope, and I’m doing an article on the plane wreck one of your photographers, a Mr. Carter Logan, found in Canada. I’d like to interview him. Is it possible to obtain his contact details?” After being put through to five different people and explaining herself each time, she was given an email address for Carter.
It took her a good forty minutes to construct an email that she hoped would incite a response.
Amber glanced at her watch and was surprised that it was already quarter past six. After shutting down her computer, she devoured a quick quinoa salad, dressed for rock climbing, and dashed out her door.
She fell into the shadows outside Upper Limits and waited for the last of Oliver’s customers to leave. Two young women strolled up to Oliver. They stood close and openly flirted with him. He seemed to like their company and smiled and joked along with them.
The blonde said something to Oliver that Holly couldn’t hear, and he gave the women an interesting expression. It was a mix
ture of confidence and cheekiness, but there was also a touch of detachment too. Holly thought it was strange given that both women seemed to be toying with him.
The blond woman kissed his cheek and the other slapped his bottom, and when he flashed them a cheeky grin, a bolt of jealousy flared across Amber’s mind. She smacked the ridiculous emotion aside. Oliver was well out of her league. To even consider that he may be interested was a rocky path to disappointment.
Amber studied the women as they ambled toward the exit. She guessed them to be about her age, but that’s where the similarity ended. Both were beautiful and confident, and both had stunning figures. They were giggling as they stepped outside and climbed into a red Volkswagen Beetle parked in front of the gym.
A few more people left, and Amber recognized the last man as one of Oliver’s regular customers. Because Oliver spoke so loud when belaying for people on the wall, Amber had come to know a few of their names. This one was Neil, and based on how comfortable they were with each other, she believed he and Oliver were good friends.
Oliver walked Neil to the front door and said goodbye. But this time, after the customer had vanished from view, Oliver poked his head out the door. “You can come in now, Amber.”
She inwardly cringed as she stepped from the shadows.
“There you are.” Oliver’s smirk confirmed he’d enjoyed catching her out. “How’re you? Did you have a good weekend?”
He stepped aside and she walked through the front door. “Yes, thank you.” She headed toward the side wall.
“What’d you get into? Anything exciting?”
She hated that he asked this after every weekend. Her response each time had been that she’d done nothing and it made her sound pathetic. So, deciding there was no harm in it, she said, “I went skiing.”
“Skiing! Snow skiing?”
He seemed way too excited and she frowned. “Yes.”
“That’s excellent. I didn’t know you were a skier.”
She shifted her feet. “I’m learning.”
“Well, aren’t you Miss Adventurer.” The delight in his eyes made her happy she’d told him. Now she didn’t feel like a complete outsider.
“I haven’t been skiing in months. I should come up with you sometime.”
Her heart fluttered at his suggestion, but she quickly cast the foolish notion aside. He was just being nice. Oliver had young beautiful women falling all over him. He wouldn’t have any interest in a disfigured freak like her.
Forcing her brain to focus, she pulled her hair back. It had become second nature to do this now, and she barely had two thoughts about revealing her scar to Oliver. He seemed to have accepted it too, as his eyes had rarely wandered over it since that first time.
They had an efficient routine going now. While he fetched their harnesses she prepared their ropes, and within five minutes of her arrival she was usually on the wall.
“I think you’re ready for the advanced climb.” He gave a half smile, maybe assessing her thoughts.
“Okay.” She didn’t hesitate. Now that she’d decided to have answers for Dorothy in seven months, she needed to set some more goals with her climbing. This seemed like the perfect place to start.
“Let’s do it then.” The green in his eyes was a luscious shade, the color of new mint leaves, and they dazzled with what she thought may’ve been a little pride. His gaze had her stomach fluttering, like it was filled with butterflies.
They moved to the front section of the warehouse. Amber glanced up the climbing wall and her tummy did a little vertigo flip. She smacked the queasiness away by stepping back and forcing herself to look at it more thoroughly. The fact that she’d progressed to this level was a miracle. Much of it had been a battle over her mind as well as her body. Doing both skiing and rock climbing had her body improving, but it didn’t stop her from feeling sore in nearly every muscle the day after each session.
Just like every Monday after her weekend skiing, she winced as she reached up to the first hold. But, ignoring the stiffness in her quads, she pushed on. With each grading progression she made along the climbing wall, the holds became smaller and farther apart. It required her to truly map out her route before committing to the next hold.
Halfway up, she reached a dead end. There didn’t seem to be another anchor point.
“It’s the pink one, to your right. You can do it, Amber.” Oliver’s encouragement floated up to her.
She loved and hated it.
Amber eyed the next hold. It was a pinch hold, which required her to squeeze the colorful lump between her thumb and fingers to keep her in position. To get to it, she had to stand on her right toes and counter her weight by extending her left leg out to correct her center of balance. Every muscle in her right leg trembled as she stretched her arm, her fingers, reaching…reaching. “Shit!”
She fell. As she swung on the rope, she clenched her jaw until her teeth hurt.
When she reached the mat, she stepped back to steady herself on the cushioning.
“It’s okay.” Oliver touched her shoulder. “You’ll get there.”
She glanced back up the wall and guessed it to be about forty feet to the top. That was farther than the fall she’d made into the frozen crevasse. She shuddered at the memory.
“Hey.” He touched her arm. “You’ve made excellent progress.”
She shook her head. “It’s not fast enough.”
He frowned, and she instantly regretted her statement. “What’s not fast enough?”
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“I can tell it’s something. Amber, remember my rule: you must be honest with me.”
She glared into his green irises, silently pleading that he’d drop it. But Oliver wasn’t like that. Something about him left her battling the urge to reveal her darkest secrets.
She’d managed to avoid catastrophe so far, but she wondered if it was only a matter of time before her ruse was over. It was a double-edged sword. As much as she stressed over her secret identity being revealed, she ached with the desire to divulge her true self.
“Amber…” Oliver’s gentle squeeze on her shoulder lured her from her tumbling thoughts. “What is it? You can tell me.”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Does it have anything to do with your scar?”
She covered her cheek with her hand and a sob caught in her throat. The pity in his eyes cut like a thousand knives. She had to get out of there. Snapping the belt clips open, she let the harness fall to her feet.
“Hey, what’re you doing? Don’t go.”
She stepped from the brace and kicked it aside.
“I’m sorry. Amber, please.”
He reached for her arm but she yanked it away. “Don’t.” She blinked back tears, gathered her bag, and strode for the door.
“Amber, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Tears tumbled down her cheeks, and with each step toward her apartment she was torn between running home and running back to him, falling into his arms, and telling him every sordid detail about her wretched life.
Chapter 14
Oliver waved at his mother, who was walking toward him from the opposite side of the field. The way she was holding her elbows and her slight limp confirmed her arthritis was giving her trouble again. In the last couple of years, the cruel disease had taken its toll and she’d given up her two favorite loves: golf and tennis. That, in turn, had her putting on weight that she couldn’t shift, which only placed more pressure on her already crippling knees. It was a vicious cycle that looked to have no recovery point.
She opened her arms as she neared and Oliver squeezed her in a bear hug. Her breathing was ragged and he hated listening to the rattle in her chest.
“Is Dad coming?” Oliver’s father wasn’t as committed as his mother
to watching Kurt practice his baseball, but he’d never missed a game.
“No, he’s trying to fix the stupid dishwasher.”
Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh no.” His father was well-known for his handyman mishaps.
“Yeah, so be ready to come to the rescue later.”
Oliver chuckled. “Sure. Just give me a call. Okay, let me go sort this bunch out.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the team of rowdy teenage boys gathering at home plate.
“Alright, you guys, let’s go for a run.” There were as many groans as there were kids who took off at a sprint. “Last ten boys to reach the fence will do ten more push-ups.” That got them moving, and they roared together as they collectively ran toward the opposite end of the field. Oliver kept up with them, giving them as much gentle encouragement as assertiveness.
His brother Kurt was one of the stronger boys. Kurt had shot right past his mother in height before he was twelve and was already nearly up to Oliver’s shoulders. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kurt was the tallest in the family by the time he finished growing.
Oliver was sixteen when his mother sat him and Dane down and told them she was having another baby. He’d been horrified at the time. The concept of having a snotty screaming baby in the house was his worst nightmare. But right from the moment Kurt was born, Oliver had felt a special bond to his kid brother. Despite the seventeen years between them, they were best friends. And each year only got better.
Oliver went through the regular drills, working the kids into a sweat and improving their batting and fielding skills. But most of all it was about exercise, fun, and camaraderie. Oliver’s philosophy was that developing lifelong friendships was just as important as hitting a home run.
He separated the boys into two teams and put half on the field and the other half into a batting order. Oliver was adamant about letting all the kids have a turn, regardless of their ability. Some of the parents didn’t agree, but it was always the ones who thought their boys were better than the others. But Oliver stood his ground, and in his four years of coaching he’d only had five kids removed by parents who didn’t support his coaching style.
Out of Mind Page 10
