Chapter 15 - THE NOTARY ON THE ISLANDColleen Price cried before I met her.
I could tell.
Red eyes.
Careful makeup.
She thought I was still missing when investigators first interviewed her.
By the time I met her secretly, she knew I was alive under confidentiality.
She looked at me as though seeing a ghost.
“I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“I should have stopped the signing.”
“Why?”
“The packet changed.”
“Did you know how?”
“No.”
“Then why stop?”
“I felt rushed.”
“That is not legal defect.”
“No.”
“Did Jason threaten you?”
“No.”
“Bribe?”
“No.”
“Pay premium?”
“Yes.”
“For island travel.”
“Yes.”
“Unusual?”
“Not for private clients.”
Good.
I refused to let guilt rewrite ordinary conduct into conspiracy.
“What made you nervous?”
“He answered for you once.”
“When?”
“I asked whether counsel had approved changes.”
“And?”
“You started answering. He said, ‘Helen’s team cleared it this morning.’”
I remembered.
Vaguely.
“Did I confirm?”
“You said, ‘Then I’m sure it’s fine.’”
There.
My participation.
Colleen looked devastated.
“I should have called Helen.”
“Perhaps.”
“I assumed.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do not make yourself central.”
She looked surprised.
“My husband pushed me out of a helicopter.”
Her face went white.
“You failed to verify a document packet.”
I leaned forward.
“Those are not equal.”
She started crying again.
“Thank you.”
“Not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“It’s accuracy.”
She nodded.
Her testimony mattered because Jason had lied about Helen’s approval.
Fraud.
Potentially.
The signature still mine.
Legal fight still real.
But motive strengthened.
Then Colleen remembered something else.
Jason received a message during signing.
He stepped away.
Returned.
His mood changed.
“How?”
“More focused.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked if we could finish quickly because helicopter weather window.”
Possible.
“Phone?”
Investigators had device records.
Message deleted.
Recovered metadata showed contact from prepaid Halcyon-linked number.
Content partially reconstructed from notification cache.
Four words:
Need certainty before departure.
Miriam nearly shouted when told.
I held up a hand.
“Certainty about what?”
“We don’t know.”
She glared.
“Mother.”
“Could be documents.”
“Could be murder.”
“Yes.”
Both.
Then investigators found Jason’s reply:
Will be resolved.
Again.
No explicit violence.
But timing.
Document table.
Flight.
Push.
Pattern.
Colleen said:
“After he got that message, he watched you sign differently.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
She thought.
“Like he was waiting for the last page.”
That was subjective.
Still useful context.
The final page was voting schedule acknowledgment.
I signed.
Jason smiled.
The expression I had noticed.
Satisfaction.
Then helicopter.
I asked Colleen:
“Did he seem like a man in love?”
She looked startled.
“Yes.”
Immediate.
That answer hurt more than if she said no.
“What does that mean?”
“He couldn’t stop touching your hand.”
I closed my eyes.
Exactly.
Tenderness and betrayal in the same hour.
That would confuse everyone later.
Prosecutors prefer clean emotional narratives.
Jurors too.
Greedy younger husband.
Wealthy older wife.
Documents.
Push.
Simple.
But if we simplified Jason, his defense could exploit complexity.
“He loved her.”
Perhaps.
Then defense would imply love contradicts intent.
It does not.
I told investigators:
“Do not argue he never loved me unless you can prove it.”
One prosecutor looked surprised.
“Why help him?”
“I’m helping the case.”
“How?”
“If you tell people something their common sense rejects, they may reject everything else.”
He nodded slowly.
Good.
The truth was strong enough.
Jason did not need to be emotionally empty to be criminally responsible.
May you like
He only needed to choose.
He did.
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