Richard Castle - A Brewing Storm

“You have no proof,” Toppers objected, but her face looked panicked, as if she were an animal caught in a corner.

Storm picked up the four gym bags and carried them over to her. “A hundred-dollar bill weighs roughly one gram,” he explained. “A million dollars in hundred-dollar bills weighs a hundred grams or the equivalent of twenty-two pounds. Six million dollars weighs a hundred and thirty-two pounds.”

“I can count,” Toppers said.

“Yes, you told me that you were good in math.” He dropped the bags at her feet. “I’ve placed the equivalent of one hundred and thirty-two pounds into these four gym bags. When you came out of the bank vault, you were carrying all four bags — two in each hand. You should have no problem lifting all of these bags right now — if the six million was in those bags.”

“What’s this going to prove?” Windslow asked.

Agent Showers answered. “Obviously, newsprint weighs less than currency. If she can’t lift the bags, then it would have been impossible for her to carry six million in hundred-dollar bills out of that vault. That will prove that the bags were stuffed with newsprint — not money.”

“Pick up the bags,” Storm said. “Prove me wrong.”

Toppers didn’t move.

“Damn it, girl. Pick up those bags,” the senator ordered.

She didn’t flinch.

“If you want us to believe you weren’t involved, pick up those bags,” Gloria said sternly.

Toppers rose slowly from the sofa. She looked at each of them and then reached down and put her fingers around the straps on the four gym bags. With a huge grunt, she gave them a tug.

For a second, it looked as if she were going to lift them. But they were simply too heavy and she was too petite, too weak. She nearly fell forward on her face.

Gloria shot from her chair, lunging at Toppers. The older woman slapped the young girl’s face and grabbed her hair. Both women tumbled onto the floor. Storm grabbed Gloria, who was swinging and kicking Toppers. Showers pulled Toppers to one side.

“You little bitch,” Gloria screamed. “How could you do this to us? How could you do this to our son? We treated you like family. Why did you do this?”

Agent Showers said, “Samantha, was there newspaper in those bags when you brought them out of the vault?”

Looking completely defeated, she said, “Yes. I made the switch just like he said.”

Showers handcuffed her and gave Storm an appreciative smile. “Smart thinking putting a hundred and thirty-two pounds in those bags,” she said.

“Actually, there’s two hundred pounds in them. It was a trick. I have no idea how much newsprint weighs.”

Toppers face turned bright red. She burst into tears, overcome with pent-up emotions.

“Who helped you?” Windslow demanded. “Who was your partner? You may have written those notes, but you didn’t make those bombs.”

Between sobs, she stammered, “I never liked you, and your stepson didn’t like you either. You’re a bully.”

Storm removed a cell phone from his pocket and pushed the last number dialed feature. The voice of Rihanna could be heard coming from Topper’s handbag.

“This cell phone belongs to the man who tried to get into the hospital last night to see Samantha,” Storm explained. “I knocked it from his belt just before he fired a shot at me. The last number that he’d called was Samantha’s.”

He hesitated and then said in a sympathetic voice, “This phone belongs to your brother, doesn’t it, Samantha? He was coming to see you because he wanted to get the money.”

“You have a brother?” Gloria said. “I thought you were an only child.”

Between sobs, Toppers said, “His name is Jack, Jack Jacobs.”

“I’ll be goddamned,” Windslow said. “How’d our background investigators miss that?”

“The woman we all know as Samantha is actually Christina Jacobs,” Storm said. “She and her brother were born in Vermont and lived there until the courts took them away from their drug-addicted, abusive mother. I’m not sure how or why, but Christina ended up living with Charles and Margarita Toppers, a wealthy couple in Stamford, Connecticut. They had a daughter the same age whose name was Samantha.”

“You told us the Toppers were your parents,” Windslow said.

“Charles, Margarita, and the real Samantha were killed in a car accident in Spain while on vacation,” Storm explained. “Their bodies were burned beyond recognition. Christina was sick at home that night, and when the police told her that everyone was dead, she decided to assume Samantha’s identity. She told the authorities that the girl killed was a family friend named Christina Jacobs, an orphan.”

“How could she pull that off?” Windslow said.

“She never went back to Connecticut. Margarita had relatives in Spain, so all three bodies were buried there. The 'new’ Samantha contacted the bank that was the trustee of the Toppers estate and told the executor that she was distraught and wanted to live in Europe for a while. He had dealt only with Charles Toppers and had no idea what Samantha looked or sounded like. He sent her monthly checks to a bank in Paris. She stayed abroad for six years, posing as Samantha, only dealing with the Stamford bank by e-mail and letters. By the time that she returned to the U.S., she had transformed herself — adopting the same hair color, the same signature as Samantha. She fooled everyone — it seems — but her brother.”

“I never thought I’d see him again,” Samantha said. “After the accident in Spain, I sent word to him that his sister was dead. I’d heard he enlisted in the marines and had been to the Persian Gulf to fight in Iraq. He was Army Intelligence. Then out of nowhere, he showed up at my apartment on the very night that Matthew was kidnapped. I was an emotional wreck and I told him about what I’d done and how I was engaged and about how Matthew had been kidnapped. I thought he would be sympathetic, but he told me this was his big chance. He said, 'You had your chance to start over. I want mine.’”

“It was your brother’s idea to write that first ransom note, wasn’t it?” Storm said.

“He thought if we acted fast, we could beat the real kidnappers to the punch. He told me if I didn’t help him, he would expose me and I would go to jail. But then, I told him the FBI was everywhere in Union Station. There was no way for him to get the money. I thought he’d give up on the entire idea after that, but I made a stupid mistake.”

“You told him about the real kidnappers’ note, the one with the teeth in it,” Storm said.

“I wanted him to know the kidnappers had contacted the Windslows. I told him the CIA had brought in a real expert to help the FBI. I wanted to scare him. But instead he realized the kidnappers weren’t after money. They were trying to get the senator to do something else. That’s when he came up with the idea of getting money out of the safety deposit box and making everyone think it got blown up.”

“How did you know about the six million hidden in the safety deposit box?” Agent Showers asked her. “Did Matthew tell you about it?”

“He did more than tell me. Matthew took me to the vault and showed me all that cash. He told me it was bribe money that his stepdad got from some Russian.”

“Wait a minute, girl!” Windslow exclaimed. “Bribe money? There’s no proof that I took a bribe. You need to watch your tongue!”

Gloria said, “What have you done, Thurston? Are you responsible for Matthew getting kidnapped? Who are these Russians and why did they pay you a bribe?”

Nervously eyeing Agent Showers, Windslow said, “This is not something that we need to be discussing right now, Gloria.”

Showers said, “Senator, I can help you if you tell me the truth about that money. We can work out a deal. It’s not too late to do the right thing.”