by L E Fraser
“I have to tell you something.” Reece folded his hands on his book. “I drugged your hot chocolate the night before Brandy died. That’s why you didn’t wake when she was in distress.”
“Yeah, I figured it out a few days later,” Sam said. “Waking earlier wouldn’t have saved Brandy. She was old and had advanced liver disease.”
“I was worried about you and wanted you to sleep,” Reece said. “But it was deceitful and I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She circled the table, cupped his face, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You are the best part of me. Please fight for us.”
He dropped his eyes and was silent. Her therapist had warned her not to push him. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Sam lightly squeezed his shoulder and left, quietly closing the door behind her.
In her car, she tried to steady her shaking hands. The next task was the most important to her recovery.
The April sky was cloudy but it was warm. She lowered her windows and drove along the lake to the city of Burlington. She checked the address on the GPS and pulled into the long driveway of a sprawling waterfront ranch. On the lawn, Leo and a woman she didn’t recognize sat on a blanket with a baby. The woman glanced at the vintage car with a curious expression. Leo said something to her and came to greet Sam.
“Hi.” She embraced her brother-in-law in an awkward hug. “Congratulations on your marriage. I’m sorry I didn’t attend the wedding. Mother said it was lovely.”
His eyes were sad. “It’s good to see you.”
She held out a brown envelope. “It’s the deed to the Muskoka cottage, and the keys. I want you to have it.”
He took a step back. “I can’t accept.”
“You can. It’s what Joyce would have wanted.”
“She wanted you to be happy,” Leo said. “That’s all she ever wanted.”
Sam’s eyes strayed to Leo’s baby girl. Hannah Morgenstern had confirmed that no pregnancy hormones had been present during Joyce’s autopsy. Aleksia had baited her. And Incubus had succeeded in manipulating her into committing murder. It had all been a twisted game to prove his superiority and force his adversary to destroy her own life. In some macabre co-dependant relationship with her stepfather, Aleksia had sacrificed her life to the cause.
“Please take the cottage,” Sam said. “To move on, I need you to have it.”
Leo’s eyes filled with tears but he accepted the envelope. “Would you like to meet my wife and daughter?”
She shook her head. “Another time, I promise.”
“I have something for you,” he said. “Can you wait a minute?”
She nodded and he jogged to the house. A minute later, he returned and handed her a stamped envelope, addressed to Sam in Joyce’s neat writing.
“It was the letter she went out to mail. It was in her car. I wanted to give it to you earlier, but I didn’t know how,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“I live that terrible night over and over,” Leo said with a sob. “If only I hadn’t let her go out alone.”
“Be happy, Leo” she said. “Love your wife and daughter. That’s the best way to honour my sister’s memory.”
* * *
SAM DROVE TO a park by the lake and opened her sister’s letter.
Dear Sam,
You won’t answer my calls or emails so snail-mail is my last option. I am so sorry for what happened at Mother’s and the terrible things I said to you. Mother is wrong. Dad would have stood by your side when you left Toronto Police Service. You are a remarkable woman and more resilient than I could ever be. You have risen above adversity and emerged stronger. Whatever the world throws at you, you face it with your head high. I often forget that you hold your pain tight inside your heart. You’ve always been so afraid to show weakness or vulnerability. I want so much for you to be at peace and to find the love you deserve. I haven’t been the best big sister. But I do love you with all my heart. You are my annoying little sister with the huge green eyes and the crop of strawberry curls. Life never turns out the way you hope as a child, but with strength, there is endurance and the assurance that life will never break you. No matter what, I’ll always be your sister.
Love Joyce
The clouds parted and a beam of afternoon sun hit the still water of Lake Ontario. Against the horizon was the faint outline of a rainbow.
Sam tucked the letter into her pocket. “Goodbye, Joyce. Pat Brandy for me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Sam
THREE DAYS LATER, Sam woke and smelt bacon. Confused, she rolled over in her empty bed and sniffed. Excitement fluttered in her stomach. He was home. She leaped from bed and raced downstairs.
Reece stood at the island, dousing waffles with maple syrup. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He put the plate on the kitchen table beside a platter of bacon. With three long strides, he was in her arms.
“You’re home,” she murmured against his neck and breathed in the comforting scent of his aftershave.
“I was a stupid arse.” He nestled the top of her head. “An insufferable, sanctimonious prig.” He kissed her and pulled away to hold her at arm’s length. “Whatever the future holds, we face it together.”
“Promise?” she asked.
He wiped a tear off her cheek. “Let’s get married right away.”
She laughed. “Okay. When?”
He lifted her and spun her around. “As soon as we can get an appointment at City Hall, unless you want a big wedding with all the trimmings.” He put her down and grinned.
“No big wedding,” she said. “Just Jim and Lisa.”
“And Eli and Margaret, Danny and Bart, and Betty and Harry Walsh.” Reece laughed.
She frowned. “Did you hear that noise?”
Reece grinned. “It’s coming from the kitchen.”
She followed the soft whine to a cupboard in the island and opened the door. Moist brown eyes above a flat black snout in a fawn face gazed up at her. An adorable set of bat-ears waggled on the top of the smooth round head. Sam reached down and picked up the stocky, solid body. The puppy licked her face.
“He’s a French bulldog,” Reece said. “I know it’s soon and maybe you don’t want him, but—”
“Don’t want him?” She laughed and hugged the warm little creature. “Who could resist those ears? Where did you get him?”
“From a breeder outside Vancouver,” Reece said, rubbing one of the puppy’s sticky-up ears. “This little guy was spoken for but things worked out.”
She snuggled her face against the soft brown fur. “How did you get him to Toronto so fast?”
Reece mumbled something inaudible. She looked up, curious.
“Eli chartered a plane.” He rolled his eyes with a grin. “And in the spirit of full disclosure, he paid the original buyer a fortune to wait for the next litter.”
She burst out laughing. “What will we name him?” She put the puppy down to explore. His nubby little tail wagged as his chubby rear end bounced across the floor.
“He looks like a perfect crème brulée,” Reece said. “What about Pépin, after Jacques Pépin, the French chef?”
Sam thought it over. “Can we lose the accent on the name without it hurting your feelings?”
Reece laughed. “Sure.”
“Then Pepin it is.” She liked the way it rolled off her tongue.
Sam thought about the past and all the pain. She thought about how hate and a desire for revenge had nearly destroyed everyone she loved. Joyce was right—life seldom turned out how you hoped it would. But as long as there was life, there was time to make better choices.
She picked up her phone. When the call connected, Sam took a page from Eli’s book and spoke directly. “I miss you,” she said. “I want you to come to my wedding.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and then quietly, as though a dam were cracking, her mother began to cry.
EPILOGUE
JERRY LUTZ SAT in his cell, gazing at
the pictures of Sam that decorated his walls. He felt no remorse over Aleksia’s death. She had been a good soldier, although the outcome had been less rewarding than he’d hoped. It appeared that Samantha would not be seeing the inside of a cell anytime soon. Not even a whisper of misconduct had graced the news. A disappointment, but it didn’t matter. He knew her better than she knew herself. In the moment that life had drained from Aleksia’s eyes, Samantha McNamara had understood the joy of killing. Breaking her next time would be easier.
It pleased him enormously that Incubus was enjoying renewed fame. The media had once again immortalized him for eternity. He was bound to the Frozen Statue Killer now, receiving due credit as the mentor for her art.
A guard stopped and shoved a letter through the bars.
“Thank you, Ralph,” Jerry said. “How is your son doing? University freshman this September, correct?”
“Keep your mouth shut.”
“And your lovely wife? How is she?”
“Take the letter,” the guard ordered.
Jerry breathed in a familiar scent of white lily perfume from the pink stationery. “Ah, Lorna,” he said with a smile. “She’s a talented designer. I’ll ask her to send your wife a dress.”
“Don’t bother,” said the guard. He stomped away down the corridor between the cells.
Jerry sat at his little desk and opened the envelope. He tossed the letter on the floor and leaned over the bundle of pictures, wetting his lips as he flipped through. He stopped at a photo of Reece and Sam hand in hand. It appeared that Mr. Hash had returned home to his betrothed.
Jerry separated out any photographs featuring the illustrious Mr. Hash and threw them in the trash. He had no interest in Reece Hash because the man wouldn’t be alive long enough to fret about.
“What have we here?” Jerry chuckled and ran his fingertip over the surface of another photograph. This was the one.
“Where the flutter of demon wings will bring mortals to their knees and you and I will rule together,” he said and kissed the photograph.
Incubus pasted the picture of Samantha walking her new puppy in the centre of his collage.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I WROTE THE story of Incubus years ago. However, when I decided to publish, I began after the death of Sam’s sister. Over the past three years, readers have reached out to ask me about Incubus. My conundrum was how to tell you the story without returning to the past and eliminating Reece Hash. That would disappoint some of you. As I wrote Frozen Statues, it occurred to me how difficult it would be for Sam to hunt another serial killer. What a perfect segue to show the psychological horror she suffered after her sister’s murder. Fingers crossed I did it justice.
Nothing would be possible without my outstanding book team. Sadie Scapillato edited the development stage. Jennifer McIntyre joined the team this year for the substantive content edit, and we were lucky to find Ellen Michelle for proofreading. Mike Doyle created another fantastic cover. Special thanks to Brian Gonsalves who helped to develop Eli Watson’s character. I hope I got it right.
Most of all, thank you for reading Frozen Statues, Perdition Games. I’m requesting a bit more kindness by asking you to write a review on Amazon and Goodreads to offer your opinion. Leaving a review, no matter how short, helps make it possible for me to continue to write for you. Please catch me on social media to hear about new releases and book promotions.
Until we play another game,
Lori
www.perditiongames.com
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“Breathtakingly brilliant.”—San Francisco Book Review
“Sweeps readers along.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Fast paced fiction.”—Readers’ Favorite
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