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Double Identity
Diane Burke


Sophie Clarkston is shocked to learn that she isn't who she thinks. Her birth certificate is forged. Her name - made up. And her widowed father is suddenly missing, leaving behind a heartbreaking letter asking forgiveness. Desperate for answers, Sophie turns to private investigator Cain Garrison in tiny Promise, Virginia.But the moment they leave his office, her life is threatened and her home ransacked. Who is after her? And who, exactly, is she? With questions about his own past, Cain vows to help Sophie uncover the truth. Before someone comes out of the shadows to keep it hidden forever.







“Do you have anything else that might indicate your father’s true identity? Maybe an entry in a family bible or a name on the back of a photograph? Anything at all to give me a place to start?”

She shook her head.

“What about the cottage?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “You said it had been in your family for years. There must be legal documents to prove it. A real estate title, for one.”

Sophie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, we’ve owned it for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if there are any papers to prove it. I just figured possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She held up an object in her hand. “I have the key.”

A smile danced across her lips and Cain’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, a vulnerability hidden beneath resilience, a shyness buried beneath determination, that drew him to her.

He’d promised himself never again—never get emotionally involved with a woman connected to one of his cases. He’d learned his lesson the hard way and had vowed never to repeat it. This unexpected empathy he felt was unsettling.




DIANE BURKE


is the mother of two grown sons and the grandmother of three wonderful growing-like-weeds grandsons. She has two daughters-in-law who have blessed her by their addition to her family. She lives in Florida, nestled somewhere between the Daytona Beach speedway and the St. Augustine fort, with Cocoa, her golden Lab, and Thea, her border collie. Thea and Cocoa don’t know they are dogs, because no one has ever told them. Shhhh.

When she was growing up, her siblings always believed she could “exaggerate” her way through any story and often waited with bated breath to see how events turned out, even though they had been present at most of them. Now she brings those stories to life on the written page.

Her writing has earned her numerous awards, including a Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence.

She would love to hear from her readers. You can contact her at diane@dianeburkeauthor.com.




Double Identity

Diane Burke








Be humble and gentle.

Be patient with each other, making allowances for each other’s faults because of your love.

—Ephesians 4:2


To Michele,

a wonderful and warm new addition to our family.

You had just the right touch of enthusiasm,

encouragement and gentle prodding

to keep me at the keyboard.

And

a special thanks to Vincent Gimmelli,

nephew of my heart, who let me borrow his name.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


“According to this report, Miss Clarkston, you do not exist.”

Cain Garrison looked up from the file folder lying on his desk. He had to admit he was intrigued. It had been quite a while since anyone had contracted his private investigator services for anything more than getting the goods on a cheating husband or following up on insurance fraud. Usually, it was so quiet in the small town of Promise, Virginia, that he found most of his work in neighboring counties or in the city of Charlottesville.

Tapping his index finger on the folder, he said, “Your birth certificate and social security card are phony.” His eyes locked with hers. “Okay, I’ll take the bait. Who are you really and what do you want from me?”

He leaned back in his chair and studied the petite young woman sitting in front of him. If he had to guess, he’d say she was in her early twenties. Thick ebony hair covered her shoulders and trailed down her back. She wore a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and little, if any, makeup. But then she didn’t need any.

She squared her shoulders. He might have bought into her calm-and-collected facade if he hadn’t noticed her ramrod straight posture as she perched on the edge of her chair and her white knuckles from the tight clasp of her hands.

“My name is Sophia Joy Clarkston but everybody calls me Sophie. I was born twenty-two years ago to Elizabeth and Anthony Clarkston. My mother died in a car accident shortly after I was born. My dad raised me.” Her lips pursed in distaste and she nodded toward the folder on his desk. “I don’t care what lies are written on that piece of paper. I know who I am. I need you to find my dad.”

Ahh, the plot thickens. Cain tried to hide the smile pulling at his lips. This must be his sister’s idea of a prank. He’d been complaining lately about being bored. Voilà. Phony case that she knew he’d salivate over. Okay, he’d play the game. Why not?

“Your dad’s missing?”

Sophie chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. She smoothed her jeans, picking at pretend lint, trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness.

“Adults aren’t usually considered missing, Miss Clarkston. My experience has taught me most people leave of their own volition, mostly because they’re just tired of being where they are or with the people around them. How long ago did your father disappear and what makes you think this qualifies as a missing person case?”

“He’s been gone two weeks now.” She rummaged in the tote bag resting at her feet and withdrew a white piece of paper. “I received this letter a couple of days after he left.”

Cain reached across the desk and accepted the letter from her hand. He knew from the crinkled and stained condition of the paper that the note had probably been crushed into a ball, tossed in the trash, only to be rescued, folded and put away for safekeeping. If the variety of stains meant anything, he was pretty sure this note had hit the trash can more than once. Whatever the contents, one thing was evident. This letter had created a seesaw of emotions in this woman.

He read the first line. He blinked hard and then read the first line again.

By the time you get this letter, I’ll be dead.

Cain shot a look to Sophie. Sea-foam green eyes shimmering with an ocean depth of emotions stared back at him. Maybe this wasn’t a prank. He focused his attention on the paper in his hands.



Sophie studied the man’s face as he read the letter—again—for the third, maybe fourth time. His chiseled features revealed none of his thoughts or emotions. For all intents and purposes, it was easy to pretend he was one of her sculptures. An inanimate object, consisting of carved angles and sharp edges, incapable of emotion.

Unless, like herself, he’d learned how to bury those emotions.

She’d read the letter at least a hundred times in the past two weeks. It still had the power to make her feel like someone was physically ripping her heart out of her chest. What had her dad been thinking? Why hadn’t he confided in her? Trusted her? Maybe she could have helped him.

A flush of anger swept over her. Didn’t he know how frightened and worried she’d be at his sudden disappearance? How could he have done this to her? Just as quickly she was filled with remorse. She shouldn’t be mad at him. Obviously, he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was in trouble. Desperate and feeling alone. Pretty much like she was feeling right about now.

Sophie steadied her trembling hands. She needed to stay levelheaded. She refused to believe her dad was dead. If he was, she’d know, wouldn’t she? There’d be a huge, aching void where her heart had been. Instead, all she felt was pain, fear and confusion.

He had to be alive. Nothing else was acceptable or comprehendible. She had to find him before his words came true.

She drew in a deep, calming breath and tried to remain patient while the investigator continued reading. His body language indicated he was intrigued by the document in his hand. Subtle movements. Chewing his lower lip as he read. Fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the arm of his chair. A slight squinting of his eyes, fanning lines across his skin. How many times was he going to read the letter? She could recite it for him if he wanted. She knew each word by heart.

I am enclosing this gift as a token of my love.

Sophie’s hand flew to the hand-carved wooden heart hanging around her neck. Her fingers traced an idle path along the intricate design.

I know you don’t understand why I left without a word. But for your safety, I could not tell you then and don’t dare tell you now.

For my safety? Mine?

Oh, Dad. What’s going on? What do you mean you’ll be dead? You can’t be dead. You can’t.

They’re coming. I must hurry and say good-bye.

I am ready, princess. I am ready to go on that last great adventure each one of us inevitably takes.

Just know that I love you…with all my heart.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes flew to Cain Garrison. Was he going to take the case? She didn’t know what she’d do if he turned her down. Would he be able to help? She’d tried everything she could think of and he was her last hope. She fidgeted in her seat. How much longer would he sit there staring at that rotten piece of paper that had caused her nothing but sorrow and anger?

Dear Lord, help me be patient. After all, I’ve had time to digest this nightmare. This man’s had about six minutes.

The prayer came automatically, almost as if her mind didn’t remember that she had stopped talking to God. He didn’t answer prayers…or, at least, He didn’t answer hers.

Sophie brushed her hair off her shoulders, letting it fall in waves down her back, and sat straighter in the soft leather chair. She could almost hear her dad’s scolding voice from childhood. “Sophie Joy Clarkston, what’s wrong with you? You’re full of itches and twitches, girl.”

Itches and twitches.

Sophie chewed on a fingernail and thought about the last time she’d seen her dad. After a late dinner they’d sat together on the front porch, listening to music, gazing at the stars, sharing idle conversation. She’d kissed him good-night and gone up to bed. The next morning she’d found a bag filled with money—a huge sum of money—lying on the table by her chair. He was gone. Without warning or word of any kind. Until two days later when the letter had arrived in the mail.

Her breath came in short, quick gasps and she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. She needed to distract herself. Fast.

Crossing to the window, she raised a slat and looked outside. Main Street consisted of four blocks of mom-and-pop stores, a restaurant or two, an insurance company, a pharmacy. A handful of passersby bustled past the window as they hurried about their business. A few people stood together on the sidewalk chatting.

Nothing scary.

Nothing ominous.

So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that someone was watching her every move? Her nerves were shot. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks and it was starting to show.

“Forgive my rudeness, Ms. Clarkston,” Cain said as he placed the letter on his desk and stood. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee or a soft drink?”

“Coffee would be wonderful. Cream and sugar, please. And call me Sophie.”

Blinking hard to hold back tears, she returned to her chair. She admired the professional yet welcoming atmosphere of the office as she looked around. Two brown leather chairs faced a highly polished mahogany desk. The tall cabinet on the far wall looked more like a fine piece of furniture than storage for files. A variety of plants and a large silk tree added an outdoor ambience to the room. Two framed professional investigator licenses hung on the wall to the left of heavy hunter-green drapes.

Two? In such a small town as Promise?

The deep, rich aroma of freshly ground coffee wafted from behind a silk screen standing in front of a small kitchen area. Sophie’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had any breakfast…or dinner the night before.

“One sugar or two?”

Sophie liked listening to the deep resonant tone of his voice. He seemed sure of himself, in control. And that’s what she needed right now, someone to help control the chaos surrounding her.

“Two, please.”

She watched him approach. His thick chestnut hair tumbled in an unkempt wave across his forehead, almost obscuring his vision, and she had to sit on her hands to control the absurd impulse she had to reach up and swipe it out of his eyes. He was handsome, sort of a young Johnny Depp look-alike, late twenties, maybe early thirties. If he was as good at his job as he was to look at, then she was definitely in the right place.



Cain winced as he carried the coffee mug to his client. The stiffness in his left leg shot a wave of pain into his hip. He could feel her eyes boring into him as he limped across the room.

“Don’t worry. It looks a lot worse than it is.” He grinned and handed her a mug.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’re simply wondering if you’re spending your money wisely or if you’ve made a mistake.”

“It’s not that,” she stammered.

“Of course it is.” He grinned and perched his hip on the edge of the desk. “Never apologize for considering all the facts when making a business transaction.” He slapped his leg. “I could joke and say it’s an old war injury. In a way it probably is. A war wound from my undercover narcotics days when I worked for the Charlottesville police.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t do it.” He slid off the edge of the desk and went back to his chair. “After my injury, they offered me a life behind a desk but that wasn’t the life for me.” He rapped on the desk. “Unless I own the desk, of course.”

Her smile made him happy that his words had had their desired effect.

“How long have you been a private investigator?” Sophie asked.

“Three years now. My partner and I opened Garrison Investigations shortly after I moved back home. I decided I’d had enough of big-city living and wanted to return to my country roots.”

“Pardon my rudeness, but I’m surprised you have a partner, Mr. Garrison. If I remember correctly, Promise is a very small town.”

Cain grinned. “That’s so true, Ms. Clarkston.”

“Sophie…”

He nodded. “Sophie. My sister, Holly, is my partner. She runs the diner across the street. Serves the best home-cooked meals you’ve ever tasted. But every now and then when I run into a situation where a female touch would have more success, she steps in and helps out.”

Sophie nodded her understanding.

He leaned back in his chair. “How did you hear about us? Yellow pages? Word of mouth?”

“You’re listed in the Crossroads Church business directory.”

“You attend Crossroads? I don’t remember seeing you there. Not that I know everyone, of course, but it is a small community and newcomers have a tendency to be noticed.”

“I haven’t attended really. I’ve just arrived in town.” She shifted in her seat, her eyes downcast. “Besides, the Lord and I aren’t on speaking terms these days.”

Cain tented his fingers in front of his lips to hide his smile. “That so? Yet you chose to get your business references from the church directory instead of the yellow pages?”

Color heightened in her cheeks.

“Where are you from?” Cain asked.

A shadow of hesitation crossed her face. “I’m a bit of a nomad. I don’t call any one place home.”

Cain tilted his head to the side and studied her bowed head. There were many layers and hidden secrets to Miss Sophie Clarkston. She intrigued him.

“Well, let me be one of the first to welcome you to Promise. I’m surprised you found us,” he said. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I’m familiar with Promise, Mr. Garrison. My family has owned a small cottage about ten miles out of town for as long as I can remember. My dad and I travel extensively so we rarely stay in it, but if I had to call one place home, I guess Promise would qualify.”

Cain rested his forearms on his desk. “Tell me about this letter.”

She sipped her coffee then placed the mug on the desk. “I received the letter two days after my dad disappeared. The postmark made me think he came to the cottage. If he did, he didn’t stay.”

The pain he saw in her eyes stirred him.

“Has your father ever done anything like this before?”

“No. Definitely not. My father would never hurt me.”

Cain didn’t bother to point out that that is exactly what he had just done.

“It’s always been just me and my dad,” Sophie said. “He’s hardworking, kind, loving. He has a strong belief in God and lives his life modeling his faith. I don’t understand. He never would have left me without a word. Never. Unless he had no other choice. I need your help, Mr. Garrison. I need to know what happened to my dad.”

“Call me Cain. In this small town, Mr. Garrison is still my father’s name.” He grabbed a tablet and pen out of his side desk drawer. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” He made a few notations on the paper and asked without looking up, “I assume when your dad disappeared you notified the police.” Her hesitation caused him to look up.

“Yes.” She squirmed in her seat and didn’t make eye contact with him. “At first, they weren’t much help. It’s not against the law for an adult to decide to leave. When I got this letter, I tried to convince them that he was in danger and we needed to find him.”

“And?”

“They still didn’t seem to take it very seriously. They wrote up a missing person’s report. One of the officers was really nice. He promised me he’d look into it and he did.” Her eyes cut to his. “That’s how I found out my identification papers are phony. So are my dad’s. They weren’t able to find anything after that. Truthfully, I think they just stopped trying.”

He lowered his pen and sat back. Something wasn’t right here. She was holding something back. He sensed it and wondered why.

“Sophie…” Cain ran his hand through his thick brown hair and tried to choose his words so as not to cause her any more pain. “I understand this whole situation has been very difficult for you.”

“Difficult? It’s been a living nightmare. Every memory I ever had, every single thing I thought I knew about myself and my dad is now nothing more than questions. I need to know what’s going on.”

“You’re going to need more help than I can give. I’m a small-town investigator. My biggest cases are insurance fraud, cheating spouses and missing pets. You should contract a larger investigation firm in the city. They’d have more resources than me.”

Sophie fought back tears. “What big city would you recommend, Cain? I can’t remember ever setting foot in a city, any city, until two weeks ago. And since we’ve moved from one small town to another for the past twenty-two years, what city or town do you suggest I call home?” She tapped her index finger on the file folder lying on his desk. “Besides, this report was done by big-city cops. Your old stomping ground, as a matter of fact. The Charlottesville police discovered the documents I had were fake.”

The quiet desperation underlying her words filled him with empathy. Cain offered a silent prayer for wisdom on how he could help this woman.

“Do you have anything else that might indicate your father’s true identity? Maybe an entry in a family Bible or a name on the back of a photograph? Anything at all to give me a place to start?”

She shook her head.

Thoughts ricocheted like pinballs through his mind. “What about the cottage?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “You said it had been in your family for years. There must be legal documents to prove it. A real estate title, for one.”

Sophie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, we’ve owned it for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if there are any papers to prove it. I just figured possession is nine tenths of the law.” She held up an object in her hand. “I have the key.”

A smile danced across her lips and Cain’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, a vulnerability hidden beneath resilience, a shyness buried beneath determination, that drew him to her.

He’d promised himself never again—never get emotionally involved with a woman on one of his cases. He’d learned his lesson the hard way and vowed never to repeat it. This unexpected empathy he felt was unsettling.

She needed his help. And he needed a new client. So he’d help her, despite the fact that fake documents would make it an uphill battle all the way. He’d just have to make sure this time that he used his head, kept things strictly professional between them. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to have any feelings for her…not even empathy. He had no intention of walking down that treacherous path a second time.

Cain crossed around the desk, plopped in the leather chair beside her and clasped his hands between his knees. “I know how hard this must be on you,” he said, leaning forward and locking his gaze with hers. “And I’ll do what I can to help. But I’ve got to be honest here. You’re probably throwing your money away. Fake identities usually lead to dead ends.”

She stood and offered him her hand. “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.”

He clasped her hand in his. He couldn’t bear the look of defeat in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He stood. “Leave me your address. I’ll see if I can locate a real estate title on the property. And I’ll include it in the consultation fee you just paid so it won’t cost you any more money. Meanwhile, I want you to go home and look through anything and everything you own for a name, an address, a picture. Anything you think might give me a place to start looking. You find something and we’ll talk again.”

“Thanks.” She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper she pulled from her tote bag and handed it to him.

“Wait a minute,” he called as she crossed the room.

Sophie turned and paused in the doorway.

“At least let me take you to Holly’s for a welcome-to-Promise lunch.”

Yeah, that’s professional. That’s keeping your distance. Invite the client to lunch because she looks at you with lost puppy dog eyes. Are you crazy?

“Taking a client to lunch counts as a business deduction on my taxes. So, believe it or not, you’ll actually be helping me out.” The words tumbled from his mouth even though his brain kept screaming, Idiot! Let somebody else feel sorry for her.

“Just let me know what day is good for you,” he continued. “My sister makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”

Sophie smiled and when she did it lit up the room. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”

Cain crossed to the window and watched as Sophie exited the building. She stopped to help elderly Mrs. Gleason, whose grocery bag had split open. Sophie was chasing oranges along the sidewalk when a movement out of the corner of Cain’s eye caught his attention. A man stood in the shadows of the alley a block up the street. From this distance, Cain could only see the man’s silhouette and the tip of a lit cigarette but something about his stealth caught and held his attention. As soon as the man spotted Sophie, he threw his cigarette to the ground and hopped into a car parked beside him.

Cain glanced back to Sophie. Her hair blew across her mouth and she laughingly wiped it away as she handed the last of the runaway oranges to Mrs. Gleason. With a smile and a wave, Sophie turned to step into the street.

The car barreled out of the alley.

“Sophie!” Cain banged on the glass to get her attention but she was already stepping into the street.

The car accelerated.

Lord, help me, please.

Cain raced for the door.




TWO


A freight train slammed into Sophie’s back. At least it felt like it, as an unexpected force knocked her off her feet and propelled her forward into midair. As she stretched out her hands to break her fall, she felt two arms wrap around her middle, spin her around, and then someone slid beneath her, cushioning her slide across the asphalt.

When the momentum stopped, Sophie found herself staring up at the clouds and wondering what had just happened. Before she could move a muscle, the ground beneath her shifted, someone clasped her waist, lifted her and then gently lowered her so that she was lying on the street.

“Sophie, don’t move. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”

She shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and tried to identify the hulking form leaning over her.

“Cain?” She shifted her weight and a groan escaped her lips when she tried to sit up.

A crowd began gathering around them.

“Cain, are you okay?” A man, older but strikingly similar in appearance to Cain, placed a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “I called it in. Help should be here in a minute.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Mrs. Gleason, the woman Sophie had helped with her groceries, stood beside them wringing her hands and saying, “I can’t believe it. I saw the whole thing. That car missed you by inches. You could have been killed.”

“Car?” Sophie tried again to sit up.

“No. Don’t move until the ambulance gets here,” Cain said.

“Ambulance?” She glanced at the faces looming over her and then pushed Cain’s hand away and sat up. “No. Please. I don’t need an ambulance.”

When he saw she was determined to stand, he helped her to her feet.

“What happened?” she asked.

“A black car tried to run you down, that’s what happened.” The elderly woman raised her voice so the bystanders could hear. “This young man ran out of that building and pushed you out of the way. I saw the whole thing.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sophie’s mouth as the older woman recounted the incident—and Sophie was sure Mrs. Gleason would tell it again and again before the day was through.

Sophie’s legs trembled, rebelling at the idea of supporting her weight, and she leaned heavily against Cain as they made their way through the crowd to the curb.

“A car tried to run me down?” she asked, looking up at Cain. “What car?”

“It was a big, black car.” Mrs. Gleason patted Sophie’s arm as she accompanied them to the sidewalk. “The driver came shooting out of the alley by the pharmacy. He must have lost control or something because he headed right for you.” She picked up her grocery bags from the sidewalk. “The whole thing scared five years off this old ticker of mine.”

Sophie’s head pounded and her right forearm burned from road rash. Otherwise, she hadn’t sustained any injuries. With effort, she smiled at the older woman. “I’m so sorry I scared you. But I’m fine. Really.”

The air hummed with spectator whispers. An ambulance and a police car, approaching from opposite directions, slid up to the curb.

Cain’s breath fanned the back of Sophie’s neck and his arm cradled her shoulders, lending his support as they stood together on the sidewalk. The sheriff reached them first.

Sheriff Dalton nodded at Cain and doffed his hat at Sophie. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?”

“I can tell you, Sheriff. I saw the whole thing.” Mrs. Gleason waved her hand excitedly.

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Gleason,” the sheriff replied, gently steering the woman and her bag of groceries down the street. “Why don’t you go over to the office and be the first one to tell Sally all about it. I’ll be over shortly and take your formal statement.”

Mrs. Gleason didn’t have to be asked twice. Shoulders tossed back and strutting with an air of self-importance, she hurried down the street.

The paramedics approached and made a cursory exam of both Cain and Sophie.

“We’re fine,” Cain said. “A few bumps and skin tears but nothing some peroxide and a bandage or two won’t cure.”

“Okay,” said Mr. Garrison. “Let’s get you both inside and I’ll have the two of you fixed up in no time.”

Thanking the paramedics before dismissing them, Cain and Sophie followed Mr. Garrison inside Cain’s office. Sheriff Dalton trailed close behind. Sophie allowed herself to wallow in the warmth of Cain’s body as he ushered her inside the building. She couldn’t be sure if it was the adrenaline rush from the near hit-and-run or the unexpected nearness of Cain Garrison that caused her stomach to flip-flop and her pulse to race.

Within seconds she was seated in the same leather chair she had left only minutes before.

Cain handed her a bottle of water.

She took a long gulp and welcomed the cold liquid as it slid down her dry throat.

Cain pulled a chair over to face her and leaned his forearms on his thighs. His worried expression creased deep lines near his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.

Mr. Garrison opened a first aid kit and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, tape, gauze and a few smaller bandages.

Sheriff Dalton flipped his notepad open. “So which one of you is gonna tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Sophie answered honestly. “One minute I was crossing the street and the next I was flying through the air.”

Cain laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see how you’d think that.” He turned his attention to the sheriff. “I was looking out my office window when I saw a black sedan shoot out of the alley and head right for Sophie…er, Miss Clarkston. I banged on the window to warn her but when I realized she hadn’t heard, I ran outside and pushed her out of the way.”

Sheriff Dalton eyed Sophie. “Do you know any reason why someone would be trying to run you down?”

Sophie shook her head.

“What kind of car was it?” the sheriff asked.

“Black sedan. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a good enough look to be able to tell you anything else,” Cain said.

“And you just happened to be looking out your window when you saw all this going down?” The sheriff pushed his hat back on his head, his expression skeptical.

“Miss Clarkston had just left my office.”

Sheriff Dalton looked at Sophie, shot a glance at Cain and grinned as though all of a sudden the reason Cain had been staring out the window at Sophie was pretty evident.

“Is Miss Clarkston a client?”

“Yes.”

The sheriff pursed his lips. “Whatever investigating you’re having done, Ms. Clarkston, do you think it could make someone mad enough to try and run you over with their car?”

Sophie shrugged. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt me, Sheriff, for any reason.”

Mr. Garrison dressed Sophie’s arm and then turned his attention to his son’s skin tears.

Sheriff Dalton slipped his notepad back into his shirt pocket. “Well, there’s not much to go on. But I’ll ask around. Maybe somebody saw the make and model or got some of the license plate numbers.” He crossed the room. “If either of you think of anything that might be helpful, you know where to get in touch with me.”

As the sheriff slipped out the door, he was almost knocked over by a person trying to shove him aside.

“Cain!” The woman burst into the room. “I just heard. Are you okay? I can’t believe you jumped in front of a car. Are you crazy?”

She ran her hands over Cain’s shoulders and down his arms, obviously checking for injuries. Her fingers cradled his chin and she grimaced at the scrape across his cheek. Her touch seemed possessive, familiar.

His wife? Girlfriend?

The tiniest twinge of jealousy stabbed at Sophie and her eyes widened in surprise.

Jealous? Over a man she’d just met? Couldn’t be.

No, the twinges of envy nagging at her were because he had someone to care about him and she didn’t.

She loved her father, but their nomadic lifestyle had robbed her of the opportunity to make any long, lasting friendships or date anyone more than once or twice. It had been a very lonely existence. And now that her father had vanished she found herself facing what she feared the most—being totally alone in the world.

“Were you hurt?” The woman tilted Cain’s face up. “You’re going to have a shiner, all right. You idiot. You could have been killed.”

“That’s enough, Holly,” Mr. Garrison said. “Cain’s been through enough today.”

Sophie quietly studied the woman. She wore blue jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her hair circled her face in tight brown curls. She was a pretty girl and appeared to be about Sophie’s age.

Cain removed the woman’s hands from his face and stood up. He towered about six inches over her. “I’m fine, Holly. Calm down. How did you find out so fast, anyway?”

“Mrs. Gleason told Mrs. Summit who told Mac who came in the diner and told me.”

Cain shook his head from side to side. “Small towns,” he muttered under his breath.

Sophie shifted in her seat. The movement caught the woman’s attention. “Who’s this?” she asked, directing her question to Cain but not taking her eyes off Sophie.

“Hi. I’m Sophie. I’d offer to shake your hand but mine is covered with antibiotic cream.” Sophie held her hand up.

“This is our newest client,” Cain said. He turned his head and grinned at Sophie. “This is my sister, Holly.” He inclined his head toward the licenses hanging on the office wall. “And my partner.”

Sister? Partner? Sophie grinned. Not wife or girlfriend? Isn’t that interesting. And she found herself wondering why the knowledge that Cain was single made her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Your brother saved my life,” Sophie said. “I’m shuddering just thinking about how much he plans to bill me for services above and beyond the norm.”

Holly grinned and hopped up on the edge of the desk. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for the way I burst in the door. It’s just…”

“Don’t sweat it. I understand. I’d be upset, too, if my brother jumped in front of a moving car. If I had a brother, that is.”

“So, who’s the dude with the lead foot?” Holly asked. “Ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband? Current husband?”

“Holly, knock it off,” Cain chided.

“What? She must have hired you for something that made somebody mad. It’s a logical conclusion.”

Mr. Garrison laughed out loud. “Holly and the word logic in the same sentence? Wait until I tell your mother.” He closed the first aid kit and headed for the door. “Will you be coming over for dinner, son? You know as soon as your mother gets wind of this she’s going to be all over me for answers.”

Cain shook his head. “Sorry, Dad. Holly can fill her in. I’m going to run Sophie home.”

“That’s not necessary,” Sophie interjected. “My car is parked across the street.”

“Don’t worry about your car. My sister can drive it out first thing in the morning. I’ll follow her and we’ll ride back to town together.”

“But I can drive…”

“Sure you can,” Cain said. “But it is southern hospitality to make sure a young lady gets home in one piece…particularly after she hired you to work for her and then almost got run down right in front of your place of business. Besides, do you really want to grip a steering wheel with scraped hands?”

Sophie paused for a moment and looked at the three people staring at her. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel alone. They were going to help her. Suddenly the heavy weight she’d been carrying felt lighter.

“Thanks, Cain. Holly. Mr. Garrison.” A warm glow washed over her from head to toe.

Mr. Garrison nodded and slipped out the door.

Sophie was too stubborn to offer up the silent prayer of gratitude that rested on the tip of her tongue. She was still mad at God. Sometimes she thought she always would be. But a little voice inside her head told her He already knew her heart.

“So, you’re our new client.” Holly gave her the once-over. “Please tell me you didn’t hire us to follow a cheating husband. Someone as pretty and sweet as you shouldn’t be married to a no-account.”

Sophie laughed. “I’m not married.” The smile fell from her lips. “I hired your firm to investigate my missing father.”

“Your father? Wow, that stinks. When did he disappear?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“And the police?”

“They didn’t find anything useful.” Sophie sighed. “I’m sorry, Holly. I really don’t feel up to going over all of it again.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead and rubbed little circles against her skin in an attempt to stop the pounding. “Cain has all the information. Would you mind terribly if I let him fill you in?”

“Sure. What am I thinking? I’m the one who needs to apologize. You almost got run over. I’d say that’s more than enough to deal with for one day.” Holly rummaged in the first aid kit and then held out two pills and a glass of water. “Here. This should help with that headache.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” Cain assured her. “All you need is a good night’s sleep.” He cupped her elbow and helped Sophie to her feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

As Sophie stood, her stomach growled loudly enough to draw attention. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and Holly and Cain laughed.

“Sounds like you could use a good, hot meal.” Holly spoke to Cain as she headed for the door. “I’ve gotta run. I left Phil in charge of the diner and you know how dangerous that can be.” She rolled her eyes. “Bring Sophie over for lunch and I’ll get the particulars of the case then.” Holly turned her attention back to Sophie. “We can talk while you eat. After lunch, Cain can run you home. We’ll be sure to get your car back to you first thing in the morning.” With a wave over her shoulder, she hurried out.

Both of them stared at the empty doorway and then Sophie asked, “Is it just me or does it feel like she sucked all the energy out of the room when she left? Is she always so bubbly and energetic?”

“Bubbly and energetic?” Cain grinned. “Those aren’t the words I’d use to describe Holly. More like impish, meddle-some and a royal pain at times. But I love her.”

Cain’s expression sobered. He tilted Sophie’s chin and examined the bruise on her cheek. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. Except for a headache. Probably from all the excitement.” She gingerly placed her fingers to her scalp. “Thanks to you, I barely hit anything. And even if I had, my dad always said I’m hardheaded.”

She made a point of studying Cain. “What about you? I’m not the only one who took a nasty spill. Were you hurt?”

Cain moved his right hand and Sophie could see a bandage stretching from the tip of his little finger to his wrist. She sucked in a breath. “Ouch, you were hurt.”

“This?” Cain shrugged, dismissing it as insignificant. “This isn’t anything. But tomorrow I bet we’re both going to be sore in spots we didn’t even know we had.”

Sophie’s stomach growled again.

Cain laughed out loud. “Let me lock up and I’ll take you for that lunch I promised.”

He put the first aid kit away, made sure the coffeepot was unplugged and gently followed her into the hall. Sliding his key into the lock, he glanced at her.

“Sophie, what happened this afternoon was not an accident. Someone deliberately tried to run you down.”

She shook her head. “No way. It was probably an older person who got their foot caught on the accelerator. Or a teenager texting. Or whatever.”

“Sophie.” His grim expression and the way he dragged out the syllables in her name told her he wasn’t buying her explanations.

Dread oozed up her spine. First her father disappeared. Then she found out his identification papers were fake—then hers turned out to be phony, too. Now this. Sophie didn’t have a clue what was going on but none of it felt good.

“I’m not trying to frighten you,” Cain said and walked with her outside.

Really? You’re doing a pretty good job of it.

“I saw a man dash for his car when he saw you. He accelerated when you stepped into the street. There was nothing random or accidental about it.”

Maybe if she closed her eyes really tight she’d wake up and find out this had been a terrible nightmare. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, counted to five and then slowly opened them. Nope. Still Main Street. Still Cain standing there with that worried look on his face. She hadn’t been dreaming. But, boy, she wished she had.

“Your father’s letter said he left to keep you safe.” The soft, low tenor of Cain’s voice soothed her. “But I bet you don’t feel very safe these days, do you? Something is happening and I want to help you get to the bottom of it.”

She locked eyes with him. “You’ve changed your mind? You’re going to help me?”

Cain grinned. “I never said I wasn’t going to help you. I said that I didn’t think I could help you. Face it, you haven’t given me a lot to go on. But I never said I wouldn’t try.”

Sophie nodded and hung her head.

He gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze and her heart skipped a beat. Why’d he have to be so kind? It didn’t hurt that he was good-looking, too. How was she supposed to think straight if her heart took silly little jumps every time he looked her way?

“Considering what happened today, we’re going to have to try harder to find a place to start looking.” Cain glanced up and down the street. “Your father was right, Sophie. You’re in danger. The question is, why?”




THREE


The diner looked like something right out of a 1950s magazine, black-and-white tile floor, red vinyl booths, red covered stools at the counter and polished chrome everywhere. Small jukeboxes graced the tables and stood at attention at marked intervals along the speckled counter top. The steady hum of quiet conversations mingled in the air with competing strands of music from the jukeboxes. Sophie paused for a moment and looked around. It must be close to lunchtime. The place was packed. As the tantalizing aroma of home cooking wafted in the air, she knew why. Her mouth watered like she was a participant in a Pavlov experiment.

“Over here,” Holly yelled, waving them to the counter. “I’ve saved a couple of seats. We can talk while you eat.”

Sophie weaved her way through several people waiting for seats. Normally, she would have been kinder and waited her turn in line but not today. Today it was every man—or woman, as the case may be—for themselves. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday. One glance at the huge burgers and home-cut fries at the booth beside her gave her the incentive to move faster as she whispered, “Sorry,” and elbowed her way to the counter. She plopped down on the stool Holly had reserved for her. Seconds later Cain slid in beside her.

“Wow! This place really does a business.” Sophie glanced around the crowded diner and smiled at Holly.

“Some people say we’re packed because the food is fantastic. Others say it’s because we’re the only diner in town.” Holly laughed. “I don’t care what the reason. I’m just happy they come. Now, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a burger and fries,” Sophie replied. “With lettuce, tomato and onion.”

“And to drink?”

Before she could answer, Cain said, “I’ll order the same and you can bring us a couple of large chocolate shakes.” When Holly hurried away, he leaned his elbow on the counter and swung to face her. “This diner has the best chocolate shakes—and the best charbroiled burgers—and on Tuesdays we serve fabulous pot roast dinners…”

“And apple pie. Don’t forget you told me this place serves the best apple pie.”

Cain laughed. “Okay, I admit I probably sound like a bad advertisement for fast food. But I dare you to finish your meal and not smack your lips.”

Sophie grinned. “No way. I’m not stupid. I looked at the food on the way in and I’m not taking that bet. Those burgers are so thick I’m wondering how I’m going to open my mouth wide enough to take a bite.”

“Believe me, you’ll find a way.”

Holly placed two glasses of water and silverware in front of them and disappeared again before Sophie could do more than blink.

Cain leaned closer so he could be heard above the hum of other conversations and the beats of music. “I’ve been thinking about your situation. There’s got to be something you’re overlooking. An old letter. Something in the background of a picture. A name. Date. Something.”

Sophie shrugged. “I can’t imagine what it would be. I’ve spent the past two weeks searching for clues and I keep coming up empty.”

Cain reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

When his fingertips slid across her skin, her heart pounded so hard she thought it would leap right out of her chest. She sat perfectly still, not daring to break the welcome contact or even to breathe.

“This has been a tough day for you.” His eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate and all Sophie could think about was how much she liked desserts.

“Coming through. Hot stuff here.” Holly slid two platters overflowing with food in front of them. “Let the girl get some food in her empty stomach, Romeo. Make your moves later.”

Cain’s expression darkened like an incoming storm. “You can be a real pain. You know that?”

Holly grinned. “What’s a kid sister for? Be back in a sec with your shakes.”

Sophie blinked in surprise when Cain clasped her hand, bowed his head and offered a quiet blessing. When he looked up, he grinned and said, “Go ahead. Dig in. And tell me if you don’t think that’s the best burger you’ve ever tasted.”

Sophie didn’t need a second invitation.

They sat in companionable silence enjoying their meal.

A short while later Sophie pushed back her empty platter and patted her stomach. “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing. I’m so stuffed I can hardly breathe.”

“And?” he prompted.

“And I have to admit it was the best burger I’ve ever eaten.”

Cain laughed. “Told you so.”

Holly cleared the dirty dishes and was back in a flash. She propped her elbows on the counter and said, “So, spill. I want to hear every nasty detail. Girl, what have you done to get someone mad enough to try and run you down?”

Cain and Sophie took turns filling her in on the little information they had.

“Wow,” Holly said when they’d finished bringing her up to date. “I don’t know what’s spookier—not knowing what happened to your dad—or waking up one morning not knowing who you are.”

Sophie grimaced. Holly had honed in on exactly what was eating her up inside. It was bad enough she didn’t know what had happened to her father. But her father was strong, sensible. She had faith that he’d be able to take care of himself.

But, as for the rest…

How could she explain how it felt to have spent twenty-two years believing you were one person only to find out you were somebody else? Worse. Not knowing who that somebody else was? Was Sophie even her name? Maybe she was Carol or Jennifer or maybe Nancy. She played with the names in her mind. None of them felt like a fit.

And what if her father wasn’t even her father? After all, his papers were fake. Maybe he was a fake. Maybe they weren’t related at all.

A wave of pain washed over her. No. He was her father. He had to be her father. She wouldn’t be able to love him so deeply, miss him so terribly if he weren’t her father, would she?

Where was he?

Sophie agonized over the events of the past two weeks. Question after question and not one single answer. She felt like she was starring in a science fiction movie. And she hated science fiction. Any second now she expected to stand in front of a mirror and see a different face—a different woman—an image she’d never seen before.

“Sophie?”

The deep, resonant sound of Cain’s voice pulled her thoughts back to the present.

“You okay?” Lines of concern creased his brow and drew deep frown lines at the edges of his mouth.

“Sure.” She smiled at both Cain and Holly. “Lunch was great. Thanks.” Cain raised an eyebrow and Sophie laughed. “Okay, it was more than great. It was the best!” The three of them chuckled. “But I really should be getting home.”

Before Sophie could rise someone jostled her elbow. “Hi, little lady.” Sophie turned her attention to the grizzled, disheveled man standing at her left elbow. “You must be new in town. I’ll admit I’m gettin’ up in years but these here eyes of mine still appreciate the sight of a pretty gal when I see one. And I’m seeing one now.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Holly said

“Charlie.” Cain nodded in the old man’s direction. His tone had been polite but Sophie couldn’t help but notice a subtle tensing of his posture. She sensed Cain wasn’t very fond of good old Charlie.

Sophie looked into pale, watery-blue eyes peeking out from beneath bushy white brows. His skin, leathered from weather and age, looked almost reptilian. His teeth, what few he still had, were yellow and stained, from years of tobacco use, Sophie suspected—smoking or chewing she couldn’t be sure.

“So introduce yourself, little lady. I know I haven’t seen you around town.”

“My name’s Sophie.”

“That right?” He swayed back and forth, rocking on the heels of old, worn boots. “Just passing through or planning to stay awhile?”

The strong scent of alcohol wafted her way and Sophie began to feel uncomfortable.

“I…I’m planning on staying…for a little while anyway.” Sophie smiled at the old man and tried to subtly move out of the line of alcohol breath.

“Charlie, you met the young lady. Now why don’t you sit down over there and Holly will bring you a cup of coffee?”

Charlie ignored Cain. “You wouldn’t be the gal I heard is staying in the old Weatherly place, would ya?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes. The cottage belonged to my grandfather and I’ll be staying there for a little while.”

Charlie’s whole demeanor changed. Instead of the overly friendly, tipsy man she’d been talking to just moments before, she found herself staring into cold, angry eyes.

“You tellin’ me you’re Elizabeth Weatherly’s young’un?”

Sophie, surprised by the abrupt and hostile change in the man’s demeanor, merely nodded.

“Your grandfather was a friend of mine. My best friend. We used to go fishin’ out at the old pond all the time.” The man stepped closer.

Cain sprang to his feet. “C’mon, Charlie. Go sit down and have some coffee. I’ll even throw in a slice of Holly’s apple pie…on me. What do you say?”

Spittle ran down the man’s whiskered chin as he spat out his words. “Your mama broke my friend’s heart. He was never the same after she run off. Never.”

Cain stepped between the two of them. “Charlie, don’t make me have to ask you to leave. Go sit down. Now.” His lowered voice and stern, no-nonsense tone brought chills up on her arms. She had a glimpse of what Cain must have been like when he was a cop, and she was glad she wasn’t a criminal on the receiving end of his wrath. Silence fell over the diner as the other patrons watched the scene unfolding before them.

“Do you know who this is?” Charlie yelled, flailing his arms and looking around at the people in the surrounding booths. “This is George Weatherly’s no-good kin. The daughter of the brat who ran off and broke his heart.”

“That’s it. You’re out of here.” Cain grabbed the man’s belt and heaved him toward the exit.

“We don’t want your kind in this town, missy,” he yelled as Cain lifted him through the doorway. “You hear me? We don’t want you in our town.”

Sophie couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she shot furtive glances around the room and saw people staring at her and whispering.

“Don’t worry about old Charlie.” Holly patted her hand. “Every town has its drunk and Charlie’s ours. Don’t pay attention to anything he says.”

Sophie glanced from side to side. Whenever she made eye contact with the other diners, the people looked away. She didn’t really understand what had just happened. She only knew that the entire incident made her feel embarrassed, ashamed and dirty.

She buried her head in her hands. How could this day get any worse?

A strong hand cupped her shoulder. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day. Why don’t I take you home?”

Emptiness filled her insides when his hand moved away. She longed for the comfort. She longed for someone to hold her and tell her that all this craziness would disappear and everything would soon be back to normal. If anything would ever be normal again.

“We’ll sit down tomorrow morning,” Cain said as he led her to his car, “after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, and we’ll talk it all out.”

Sophie was amazed at how easy and comfortable she felt with this man.

Maybe he’d be able to help her after all. Her father had taught her God never closes a door without opening another one. Sophie had prayed so hard for someone to help her find her father, to help her solve the puzzle of his disappearance and maybe even discover her true identity. Was Cain an answer to her prayers?

She stared at his profile, the firm set to his jaw, the perfect line of his nose. A hunk of errant hair refused to stay in place and fell on his forehead, drawing attention to his newly blackened eye, which came from his earlier superhero rescue. This morning he had been nothing more than a name in a church business directory. This afternoon he was not only the man who had saved her life but a man who was quickly becoming a friend.

The miles flew by and Sophie was surprised when the car pulled to a stop. Cain shut the engine off, hurried around and opened her door. She tried not to laugh. When was the last time anyone had held a car door open for her? Duh, never.

“Thanks for everything, Cain.” She climbed out and smiled up at him, the door between the two of them. “Just the thought of what could have happened to me today if you hadn’t done what you did…”

“Glad I could help.”

When he started up the sidewalk with her, she said, “You don’t have to come in. I’m fine. I know you have to get back to your office.”

“Trying to get rid of me, are you?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re safely inside.”

Sophie preceded him up the sidewalk to the small but picturesque cottage and drew in a sharp breath. The door was standing ajar.




FOUR


The flashing strobe lights of the police vehicles pulsated through the curtains and danced along the walls of the room. The sheriff and other officers strode through each room as though they thought it was a public arena instead of the private confines of her home. Sophie never knew you could feel violated by both the criminals who ransacked through your personal belongings as well as the police officers who went through the same belongings, taking pictures and dusting for prints.

She kept in the background and waited. Waited for the techs to finish gathering their evidence. Waited for the police to finish their reports. Waited for the reality of the broken and strewn pieces of her life to sink through the fog that enveloped her. Why was all of this happening? Each minute this living nightmare worsened.

A shadow fell across her lap. Sophie looked up, stretching her head back so she could look into the eyes of the large, solidly built man looming over her.

“Ms. Clarkston.” He tipped his hat. “I didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon.”

“Ditto on that one, Sheriff.”

“I need to ask you a few questions. Are you comfortable here or would you like to move into the kitchen?”

“Here’s fine.” She unwrapped her legs and scooted over to make room for him on the sofa. The sheriff remained standing.

“I make it my business to know the people in this town, Ms. Clarkston. How come I don’t know you…other than from the episode earlier today with that hit-and-run?”

She glanced into the man’s hard, steely gaze and felt like she’d just been slapped. “I…I don’t know, Sheriff. I’ve only been in town a couple of weeks. I guess our paths just haven’t crossed.”

“Is this your house, ma’am?”

Sophie nodded.

“To my knowledge, no one’s lived in this place for years.”

Sophie squirmed beneath the accusatory tone in the man’s voice. “My father and I don’t come here very often. Maybe once or twice a year. My father pays someone to keep an eye on the place and keep it cleaned and stocked since we never know when we’ll be coming home.”

“Home?” The sheriff removed his hat and ran a hand through his thin, graying hair. “To my recollection this cottage belongs to the Weatherly family. Christopher Weatherly was one of the original founders of our town. Back in the late eighteen hundreds, I believe. And his family have been pillars of our community ever since.” He put his hat back on his head. “So pardon me, ma’am, if I find it right peculiar that all of a sudden there’s a young lady living in this residence. Your name’s not Weatherly, now, is it?”

Sophie’s stomach cramped with anxiety. How was she going to explain this to the sheriff? She didn’t have any papers to prove this was her home, only a key. And when she told him her name…or at least the name she had always believed was her name…he’d run a check, if he hadn’t already, and he’d find out her entire life as she knew it was all a lie. Hot tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but a stubbornness she knew she’d inherited from her father refused to let them fall. She would not show weakness or defeat in front of this sheriff—or anyone else.

“Elizabeth Weatherly was my mother, Sheriff. I believe that counts for being a member of the Weatherly family.”

The sheriff’s mouth opened. “Little Elizabeth Weatherly? She’s your mama?” The sheriff studied her intently. “Of course, I see the resemblance now. I didn’t notice it sooner because I haven’t seen Elizabeth since high school.”

A smile split his face. “Where’s your mama now? I can’t wait to catch up on old times. Don’t worry. We’ll have this property ownership thing cleared up just as soon as I talk with your mama.”

Sophie had a difficult time remaining patient. Why wasn’t the sheriff out chasing the bad guys instead of wasting precious time worrying about her right to be in her own home? “That’s going to be a little difficult, Sheriff. My mother died shortly after my birth.”

The sheriff threw back his shoulders, straightened to his full height and stared back at her.

“That so?”

Sophie nodded.

“Well, that’s too bad. I would have enjoyed speaking with her again after all these years. If I remember correctly, she left shortly after graduation. Ran off with some fellow her granddaddy was gunning for and no one’s seen or heard from her since.” He scratched the gray stubble on his chin and stared hard at her. “I have to admit you’re as pretty as your mama was.”

He plopped his hat back on his head. “I’ll check with the title company and see if the cottage is in your mama’s name or if your grandfather sold it off after she left town. Cain Garrison over there said your name is Sophie Joy Clarkston. Give me your daddy’s full name and where he’s staying. I’d like to talk to him. As soon as he produces a marriage license, that’s all the proof I need that this place belongs to you.”

Sophie’s stomach turned over and bile clung to the back of her throat but she fought hard not to show any outward signs of turmoil in front of the sheriff. “Don’t you have your priorities a little out of order, Sheriff?” Although she kept her tone of voice light and ladylike, there was no mistaking the hostility in it. “Shouldn’t you and your men be concentrating on finding the people who broke into my home, instead of worrying about real estate titles and marriage licenses?”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you can rest assured, little lady, I’ll find the person who trashed this house and at the same time I’ll find out if this is your home in the first place.” He placed his hand on his belt, thrumming his fingers against the butt of his gun. “Meanwhile I’d try to keep a low profile if I were you. You’ve already caused enough excitement in this town with your near hit-and-run. Now this. If the incident at the diner this afternoon wasn’t enough to clue you in, let me remind you that your grandfather was a highly respected and loved member of our community.”

Sophie blinked hard but remained silent. She shouldn’t be surprised that the sheriff had already heard about the altercation with Charlie in Holly’s diner. Gossip in a small town travels faster than a brush fire after a drought.

“A lot of folks won’t be happy to know Elizabeth Weatherly’s daughter is back in town,” the sheriff said. “The memory of your granddaddy’s broken heart is still fresh in most people’s minds.”

He stared hard at her as if he was waiting for his words to have an impact. “So I’ll hop to it, ma’am, and get started on investigating the bad guy who trashed your place.” His eyes narrowed. “But I’m also gonna make a point of talking with your daddy about the title and marriage license, too. No sense leaving any questions unanswered now is there, ma’am?” He tipped his hat in a “have a good day gesture” and walked away.

Sophie’s legs trembled, refusing to hold her upright a moment longer. She plopped down on the edge of the sofa and drew in a deep breath. What would the sheriff do when he found out her identity was a fake and her father was missing? Would he throw her out in the street? Where would she go? What would happen to her then? She lowered her face in her hands. More importantly, where was her father? He held all the answers to her questions. Was he dead or alive? She had to know his whereabouts. Even if he was dead, she had to know. Not knowing was its own kind of nightmare.

She looked up and her eyes scanned the room. Who had done this to her home? What did they want? Had they found what they came for or would they be back to search some more? Fear crept down her spine.

Sophie’s father had gone out of his way to teach her to be strong and independent. Considering the events of the past two weeks, she felt like he had been training her for this very day. But the past two weeks had taken their toll. She’d lost her father…twice. She was still reeling from both his disappearance and his deception. As if that hadn’t been enough, someone had tried to run her down today. And now her home had been ransacked.

Was it so wrong to need someone to talk to? Someone to help her make sense out of the chaos? She lowered her head and wished she was still on speaking terms with God.

When she looked up again, her eyes locked with Cain’s across the room. Within seconds, he excused himself from his conversation with one of the officers and headed her way. Her heart skipped a beat and a rush of heat filled her cheeks. Was she that transparent? Could a mere glance communicate her confusion, her fear…her need for comfort?



Cain had seen a flash of panic in Sophie’s eyes. But that’s all it had been. A flash. A split second of letting down her guard before she returned to wearing her protective mask of self-reliance and strength. His heart filled with empathy.

He stepped gingerly over the broken items strewn on the floor and made his way across the living room. So much had happened to her in such a short period of time. She was holding up a lot better than most folks would in her situation. Probably better than he would if he had to face the loss of his dad and the fallout from a lifetime of deception. But she was hanging in there. He had to admit he admired her.

Then he reminded himself that he shouldn’t be feeling admiration or empathy, or anything else for that matter. This was a job. Sophie was nothing more than a client in trouble and needing his professional help. Professional help, buddy. Keep your emotions out of it. No matter how cute she is. No matter how vulnerable beneath that tough persona. That’s your Achilles’ heel, remember? Your fatal flaw, to always want to run to the rescue. Not this time. Professionalism all the way.

Cain sat beside her. “It’s going to be okay.” Sophie lifted her eyes to his. He smiled to offer reassurance and perhaps a little comfort. “Have you had a chance to look around? Is anything missing?”

Sophie sighed and forced herself to take another look around the room. Drawers hung open, their contents scattered across the gray carpeting. Pictures hung askew on the walls or had been pulled down and the frames shattered. Clutter and chaos flowed in one unbroken rhythm from the living room to the kitchen, and she imagined it continued into the bedrooms. She hadn’t had the heart to walk back there yet and see.

“It’s hard to tell,” she replied. “Everything’s been moved…and broken…and…” Her voice choked on a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Cain said. “You’re doing fine. You’ve been through a lot today.”

Sophie squinted at something she saw in the distance. She jumped up, hurried across the room and carefully lifted a wooden box lying open on the floor.

Cain came up behind her. “Is it broken?”

She turned the small chest around, examining it for damage, and then clasped it against her chest.

“No.” A look of relief flooded her face.

“It’s special?”

Sophie lowered the small box and ran her fingers slowly, almost tenderly, across the hand-carved design on the lid. “My dad made this for me when I was just a kid.” Tears shimmered in her eyes but she blinked them back and forced a smile. “My father is a craftsman, loves woodworking.” She swept her hand in a slow arc around the room. “Almost everything in here…the furniture, cabinets…even the picture frames were all hand-carved by my dad.” Her smile was bittersweet. “He loves working with his hands. He has a true gift for carving.”

“Is that how he made his living? The Charlottesville police report couldn’t find any tax returns or bank accounts in his name.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could call them back. She stiffened and the smile faded from her lips. The questions had to be asked. But did he have to ask them right now?

He felt her eyes on him, studying him, choosing her words before answering. “My dad’s an artist. He hand carves furniture, animal lawn ornaments, unique wooden birdhouses, all sorts of things. He’d travel across the country from one craft fair to another selling his wares.”

“You traveled with him?”

She blinked with surprise and then grinned. “Of course. I literally grew up on the craft circuit. We’d frequent many of the larger annual fairs. After a couple of years, it was like a family reunion meeting up again with the friends we knew from the years before.”

Cain took the box from her hands and studied the intricate design carved into the lid. “This is beautiful.”

Sophie beamed with pride. “Thank you.”

He handed it back. “What about school?”

“I was homeschooled. Dad used to say I’d get more of an education touring the United States than I would ever get in an overcrowded classroom.”

Cain digested the information and wondered if he should take a chance and push for more. Treading as carefully as he could, he asked, “Have you always traveled with your dad? I understand you had to when you were a kid. But you’re not a kid anymore, Sophie. Did you ever want to do something else? Something on your own, maybe?”

Sophie shrugged. “Sure. Doesn’t every teenager long for the day they can leave home and set out on their own? I wasn’t any different.”

Cain gave her a questioning look but remained silent.

“Around my eighteenth birthday, my dad got sick. We thought he’d had a heart attack but it was just a really bad respiratory infection causing muscle spasms in his chest. But it scared me silly. Dad had never been sick before. I realized not only was he the only family I had, I was the only family he had, too. It had been the two of us for so many years and if I left—”

She stared off into space, lost in thoughts of long ago.

“I couldn’t leave. He needed me. Besides, I did do something on my own.” Her smile widened and it lit up her face. “I became an artist myself.”

“Wood carving?” Cain couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

Sophie shook her head. “No. When I was little, I used to try and make things out of mud pies. Dad sensed I had a drop of creativity of my own. He surprised me with clay and a small kiln.”

“You sculpt?”

Sophie nodded. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m not…I mean, I am but…”

“Remind me to show you some of my work. Maybe I’ll even let you try it sometime. There’s something awesome about feeling a slab of clay ooze through your fingers. Kneading it. Molding it into something unique and beautiful.”

Unique and beautiful.

His thoughts exactly as he stared into her upturned face.

“Sometimes I think God gifts the sculptor with just a tiny bit of insight into what it must have been like for Him when He created us out of dust,” Sophie said.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God.” Cain grinned at her.

“I believe in God. I’m just not on speaking terms with Him right now.”

“Really? Do you think that’s wise? Who shut the door? You or Him?”

Sophie chewed on her lower lip and lowered her head.

Not wanting her to slip back into a morose mood, Cain gripped her elbow and steered her toward the kitchen. “C’mon, let me help you clean up this mess. Find me a broom and I’ll sweep up. But don’t you dare tell Holly I had anything to do with housework. She’s been after me for years to clean up after myself at the house, and I’ll never hear the end of it if she learns I actually know how to use a broom.”

Cain followed Sophie from room to room as she surveyed the damage to her home and belongings. Her shoulders sagged and each step seemed difficult for her. But she didn’t cry anymore.

Thank you, Lord, for small favors. You know how a woman’s tears make me feel so helpless. And that leads to bad decisions. Fatal decisions.

They had just come down the short hall when the sheriff stepped into their path.

“Ms. Clarkston, I’m fixin’ to head out. We’ve done all we can do for now.”

Sophie wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. She looked pitiful. Fragile. Defeated. Alone. A man’s heart would have to be made of ice-cold steel not to be moved. Apparently, the sheriff agreed with Cain’s line of thought. He placed a comforting hand on Sophie’s arms and his voice softened. “This is a lousy way to welcome you to Promise, Ms. Clarkston. And I’m really sorry that you have to suffer through it.”

He stepped back and straightened his hat. “I’m planning on getting to the bottom of this, ma’am. You can count on it. And as soon as I get the chance to talk to your daddy, I’m sure we’ll be able to clear up some of the misunderstandings.”

Sophie’s shoulders stiffened. She offered a weak smile, nodded but remained silent.

“Meanwhile, I’m leaving you in good hands.” The sheriff gestured to Cain. “I’m sure he plans to stay here and help you clean up this mess. Isn’t that right, son?” Cain smiled. Son. He hadn’t been called that since his grammar school days. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m on it.”

The sheriff nodded, signaled to his men and they left.

Sophie didn’t release a breath until she saw their cars disappear down the dirt road, spewing a cloud of dust.

“What’s going to happen when the sheriff discovers my dad’s information is fake?” she asked in a soft, unsteady voice.

“I imagine he’ll come back with a lot more questions.” Cain lifted her chin with his finger and gazed into her turbulent green eyes. “But since you don’t know any more than he does, you have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Right.” Sophie offered a tentative smile. “I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You don’t have anything to worry about from the sheriff.” Cain gestured around the living room. “But someone is going to a lot of trouble to make sure you worry about them.”




FIVE


Two hours later, Cain tied up the last of the trash bags and hauled them out to the shed. He could see Sophie leaning in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to return. When he approached he noted a purplish hue shadowing the tender skin beneath her eyes and a deep sadness radiating from within her. The tears she’d fought hard to hold at bay all day slowly flowed down her cheeks. She straightened and her arms fell to her sides.

“Why is this happening, Cain? I can’t make any sense of it. Dad and I lived a quiet life. Minded our own business. I don’t understand why anyone would want to harm us.” She clamped her teeth together and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I need to know what happened to him. And I plan to find out.”

Cain gazed at the petite five-foot-two bundle of resolve standing in front of him and he didn’t know how to keep his heart encased in steel—only that he would, he had to, no matter what. He couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. He’d paid too high a price for the last one. A wave of pain squeezed his heart at the memories and, rather than try to push them back into the closed little closets he’d created in his mind, he embraced the pain. The pain was good. The pain would help him erect a wall—and keep it there.

His gaze traveled up and down the length of her. Way out of her element, looking bewildered, afraid, still Sophie stood there, shoulders back, head held high, and threw down the gauntlet for him to step up and help or get out of her way. He smiled and shook his head. Of course he was going to help. As soon as he figured out how to find a ghost.

“Relax, Sophie. I told you I’d help and I will.”

He rested his head back against the porch column and took a few minutes to enjoy the impending sunset. The sun hung low in the sky. Brilliant colors of pink, lavender, blue and purple swirled across the sky. He wasn’t sure which was God’s most artistic masterpiece, the breathtaking sunset or the silhouette of Sophie standing on the top step of the porch.

“I wish you’d come into town with me.” He tried to keep his apprehension out of his voice. The last thing she needed was more stress today. But it didn’t feel right leaving her out here surrounded by woods and all alone.

“Don’t be silly,” Sophie said. “This is my home.”

“I know but…”

“No buts. The people who tossed my house are probably as dog tired as I am. They’re not planning on coming back tonight.” She smiled up at him. “Now, go. Seriously. Before it gets much later.”

He straightened but didn’t move off the porch.

“Cain, really, I appreciate you worrying about me. I truly do. But I’ll be fine. I’ll go inside and lock the doors and the windows the second you leave. Besides, your hourly rate and my budget aren’t that compatible.” She grinned the second he started to protest and then he realized she was teasing him about owing him money. She knew he wouldn’t think of charging her for this and had gotten the rise out of him she’d expected.

He grinned in return. “A man knows when he’s been defeated.” He bowed his head and then lumbered down the steps. He opened the driver’s door and paused before slipping inside. “Lock up. Immediately.”

Sophie stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cain shook his head, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

She watched the tail end of his compact car disappear down the dirt road. A grin twisted her lips. From the size of the dust cloud behind him, it was obvious his foot leaned heavily on the accelerator. For a man who hadn’t wanted to leave he sure was in a hurry now.



Sophie started to go inside but decided to steal a moment—just one, quiet, uneventful moment—and enjoy the twilight. She wrapped an arm around the porch post and stared into the distance. This was exactly the kind of night her father and she would have spent together. They’d have worked on their separate projects most of the day, come together for dinner, and then carried a final cup of coffee out on the porch to sit, talk, just be together.

Her throat closed up. Oh, Daddy, how could you do this? Instantly her mind jumped to thoughts she didn’t want to have and taunted her with them. Are you sure he’s your father? How do you know? You don’t even know his real name. How can you be sure of anything anymore? The emotional pain that swept from head to toe couldn’t have hurt more if she was being physically tortured.

She had lived her entire life believing she was Sophia Joy Clarkston. Sophie—the person who loved strawberries and thick cream. Who loved walking barefoot in sand. Who loved the change of colors in the fall, the smell of lilacs in spring and the scent of pine at Christmas. The same Sophie who loved to mold and create objects, animals and people out of a shapeless lump of clay. The Sophie who cherished the opportunities to sit on a porch swing or lie in the grass and count the stars.

If she wasn’t really Sophia Joy Clarkston, then who was she? And did everything she remembered, everything she’d done, everything she’d ever believed she was, now suddenly change because she wasn’t the person she’d thought she was?

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Oh, Dad! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you talk to me…trust me?

Over the years, she’d met many older people at the craft fairs that wished they could live their lives over. Start fresh with a clean slate. But Sophie wondered, if they were given that option, if everything they thought they were was gone and they had nothing—no family, no expectations, no memories—would they want their life erased as simply as chalk off a blackboard? She didn’t. At least she knew that much about herself—no matter who or what her real name would turn out to be.

A sudden chill skittered along her nerve endings. Sophie hugged herself and quietly scanned the trees. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No lurking figures in the bushes. No threatening shadows. Her ears strained to listen for any unusual or stealth-like sounds. All she heard was the cacophony of crickets and frogs mingling with the normal rustling of nocturnal animals coming awake and moving around in the brush.

Still. She scanned her surroundings again—slowly, searching, lingering on every leaf, bush and stone. She found nothing threatening. Nothing scary. So why did her instincts tell her she was being watched? She didn’t have the answer but she trusted her instincts.

She hurried inside and threw the dead bolt behind her. She locked each window in the house for good measure.

She had just finished dressing after her shower and was towel drying her hair when she heard a knock at the door. Cain. A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. Although he’d promised to bring her car out to her in the morning, from the way he sped out of here she’d had the feeling he would be back. She tossed the towel in the hamper, took one quick look at her reflection in the mirror, smoothed her hair and hurried toward the front door. She opened it just as Cain lifted his hand to knock again.

“You didn’t check.” He frowned.

“What?” Sophie blinked hard.

Cain slipped past her with Holly close behind and they both turned to face her. “You didn’t look out the window to see who was here. You just opened the door.”

“Oh, come on…” Sophie shut the door.

“I don’t side with my brother often.” Holly sat down on the nearest chair. “But this time he’s right, kiddo. You should have checked before you opened the door. You didn’t know for sure it was us.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying if the robber comes back, he’s going to knock on the door and announce himself first. Who is crazier, you or me?”

Both Garrisons crossed their arms and stared at her in silence.




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