False Security

by Angie Martin

  “What if she’s related to him? What if she knows something about his murder?”

  “There’s no way she’s related to him. She’s an orphan, remember? And I doubt she knows anything about his death just because they have the same last name. That’s a stretch under any circumstance.”

  “They’re both from California,” James said, unwilling to give up.

  “A lot of people in California have the same last name.”

  “But when did she leave California?”

  Mark searched his memory. “I think she said she moved away three years ago.”

  “And Jonathan Thomas was murdered three years ago yesterday,” James said. “That’s a little coincidental given that they share the same last name.”

  “People move away from California every day. Nothing you’ve said means that she knew him, or knows anything about his murder.”

  “But there’s also too much coincidence not to mean something. You have to admit something about her isn’t right. I know you’ve noticed it. Greg said you were talking to him about it yesterday morning.”

  Mark frowned at hearing his brother had broken his confidence. “Sure, she’s a little secretive, but I think maybe something happened with her foster family and she doesn’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing wrong with that, and we can’t go around accusing her of anything. I don’t even like that we’re having this conversation without her present to defend herself.”

  James bounced in the chair like a child, his eyes jumping with excitement. “Wouldn’t that be crazy if your girlfriend knew something about a billionaire’s unsolved murder?” he asked, as if he heard none of Mark’s words.

  “It’s a coincidence, James, nothing more.”

  “Maybe.” He leaned forward and grinned. “But wouldn’t it be cool?”

  “I don’t see anything ‘cool’ about the idea.”

  “What if she witnessed his murder and now she’s running for her life because the killer is after her?”

  “This isn’t James Bond or some spy flick.”

  “You know what I think?” James asked, pointing a finger at him. “I think you need to wise up. Don’t call her anymore, and don’t go see her. Disappear from her life. Guys do that all the time.”

  The thought had never crossed Mark’s mind. “Why would you say that? I would never do that to her.”

  “Yeah, but if she’s messed up in the murder of Jonathan Thomas, you don’t want to get wasted by some mafia-type guy because of her.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I mean Rachel’s cute, but she ain’t that cute.”

  Mark stood up and set his palms down on the desk. “James, I’m in love with her. I’m not going to disappear because you come in here with some wild theory that Rachel may know who killed Jonathan Thomas.”

  James also rose from his chair. “Hey, that’s great, man. I’m happy for you and all, even though I think you’re crazy for sticking around when you don’t know what she might be mixed up in or who may be after her.”

  “Thank you. Now will you leave the matter—”

  “But I think I’m going to figure this out for myself.” He shrugged. “Morbid curiosity.” He walked out of the office.

  Mark groaned and chased James down an aisle. “Where are you going?”

  “To learn about Jonathan Thomas.” He turned around and spread his arms. “You do own a bookstore.”

  Mark caught up with him. “Fine,” he said. “But at least let me do the research with you, okay? She is my girlfriend.” He led the way to the true crime section of the store. He ran a finger over the spines of the books until he found one that caught his eye, a biography authorized by the Thomas family on the life and murder of Jonathan Thomas. Holding up the book, he asked, “How’s this one?”

  James grabbed a second copy off the shelf. “Works for me.”

  Mark detoured to the cash register and asked Sarah not to disturb him unless it was an emergency. He went back to the office and settled into his chair. James had his book open on the desk, already lost in the world of Jonathan Thomas. Mark opened his book and skimmed through the details as fast as he could.

  Jonathan Thomas had lived an impoverished childhood in the outskirts of San Francisco. His mother died from complications after giving birth to her youngest son, who also passed away. Jonathan, the second oldest, was left to help raise the younger three siblings with his older sister, while his father moved from job to job in search of good pay and steady work.

  After graduating from high school, Jonathan skipped out on college to find a job and help support his siblings. He found employment with a local security company that hired out security guards to area banks. He worked his way from a clerical assistant to vice president in seven years.

  At twenty-five, unable to convince the president of the security company to explore other areas of the security industry, Jonathan ventured out on his own and opened Thomas Security. He specialized in hiring out security guards and bodyguards, and built a clientele that surpassed his previous employer’s. Jonathan then branched out his company to commercial and residential security, including the installation, servicing, and monitoring of alarms systems.

  Jonathan succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. At the time of his death, his security company was one of the largest in the nation, second only to another company owned by a man named Donovan King. The author spent a chapter detailing the well-known and explosive rivalry between the two men, who were complete opposites.

  Whereas Jonathan built his company from the ground up, Donovan inherited his father’s already successful security company. Jonathan loved the media and had no aversion to interviews or photographs. Donovan, on the other hand, remained private and elusive, and the press soon found him uninteresting, though the occasional desperate journalist would find a reason to write an article about him.

  Mark’s own interest waned and he closed the book. Looking up at James, he said, “This is stupid. I mean, he seems like an upstanding guy and I’m sorry he was murdered, but there’s nothing here screaming out that Rachel knew him.”

  “You might want to turn to page three fifty-six.”

  “How did you get to page three fifty-six already?”

  “I started reading from the back. If you’re going to solve a mystery, always start at the end of the story, closest to the time they died. Everyone knows that.”

  Mark rolled his eyes at the sudden spurt of wisdom. He flipped through the book. Halfway down the page, he found what James was talking about. Jonathan was considered one of the nation’s most eligible bachelors and family members reported he was a target for many single women looking for quick wealth in the form of a man. His younger brother, Cory, disclosed in an interview with the author that Jonathan avoided serious relationships.

  A week prior to his murder, however, Jonathan made reference to a younger woman who captured his attention, commenting it was the one woman who was untouchable even for him. Jonathan never revealed the name of the woman, and all attempts to learn her identity after his murder were fruitless.

  Mark paused in his reading. At his death three years ago, Jonathan was forty-three years old. Rachel would have been twenty-three at the time, which passed for a younger woman.

  “I guess you read it,” James said.

  “It’s nothing but another coincidence.”

  “They have the same last name, she moved away from California at the same time he was murdered, and he was messing around with a younger woman. That’s a lot of coincidence.”

  “If Rachel was this mysterious woman, she wouldn’t share his last name unless they had been married. The book says Jonathan was never married. And how in the world would she meet this guy? It says right there he avoided serious relationships because of gold diggers. If I was him and had that much money, I’d also be wary of women.”

  James set the book down on the desk. “Okay. That must mean she’s related to him and she lied about having no fami
ly.”

  Mark opened the book up to the beginning and found information on Jonathan’s family. “His older sister’s name is Melissa. There are the twins that are younger than him, Cory and Courtney. His youngest brother is named Stephen.” Mark looked up. “The name Rachel isn’t in the book.”

  “What if she was his daughter?”

  “But he wasn’t married and there isn’t anything about illegitimate children. And Rachel isn’t his niece because both of Rachel’s parents are dead and all of Jonathan’s siblings are still alive, except the one that died during childbirth. Even if her dad was related to the Thomas family, but not mentioned in the book, why would she have to live with a foster family after her parents died if other family members were still alive?”

  “What if—”

  Mark glared at James. “No more what ifs. There’s no proof, there’s no link to Rachel, there’s nothing. We’re wrong, so let’s leave it alone.”

  “Okay, okay.” James rose from the chair. He laid the book down on the desk. “I need to head home anyway, but I wanted to let you know about the dead guy. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about Rachel, and I am happy that you guys are in love or something.”

  Mark smiled. “Thanks. You know, I’m glad we didn’t find anything. I was starting to think...” The corners of Mark’s mouth dropped into a frown and his mind wandered back to the book. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t make the pieces fit, couldn’t find proof of a solid connection between Rachel and Jonathan Thomas. The only explanation that seemed right was Rachel had knocked over the desk caddy on accident, and it was nothing more than coincidence that she shared the man’s last name.

  But then again, there was the nagging feeling that something didn’t seem right.

  “You okay, man?” James asked. “I know this is a lot to swallow without having any answers.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again, James. I know you meant well.” James left the office and Mark stared down at the book. In just a few minutes, he would learn what Rachel had to say, and finally have his answers. He hoped he could handle it.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Rachel slipped a contact lens into her eye. Blinking it into place, she looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink. She had one blue eye and one brown eye. “Hey, Danielle!”

  Danielle strode into the bathroom. “How’s the makeover going?” she asked.

  “Okay, I guess. Which eye color do you like better?”

  Danielle scrutinized each eye. “Are you still going to dye your hair blonde?” she asked. She walked over to the counter and looked through several wigs that were laid out, all different shades of blonde.

  “I think so.”

  Danielle picked up a longer blonde wig. She arranged the wig on Rachel’s head and tucked her natural hair underneath. “Go with the brown contacts. You’ll stand out too much with the blue.”

  “I hate this. For the first time in three years I’ve had my natural hair and eye color and now I have to change it.” Rachel examined the boxes of hair dye kits lined across the counter. She picked one up and held it next to the wig. “Does this one match?”

  “It’s pretty close, but please hurry up and decide what you’re doing. Those eyes are starting to spook me.”

  “Sorry.” Rachel set the hair dye box down and removed the blue contact from her left eye. She inserted the match for the brown contact into her eye. “What are you changing this time?”

  Danielle sat on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m going to cut off all my hair.”

  Rachel gasped. “No, don’t do that. I love your hair with all those curls.”

  “I do, too, but I think it’s time it went into the trashcan. It might be fun having short hair.”

  “How short?”

  “Shorter than yours.” Danielle held her hand up an inch above her shoulder. “I think right about here should do it.”

  Rachel scowled. “Maybe you should think about it more.”

  “Too late. It’s getting cut tomorrow morning before we go.” She walked back over to the wigs. “Do we have a short black one?”

  “No, but there’s a long one in the box along with black hair dye,” Rachel said, pointing to a cardboard box by the bathtub. “I knew you were going to get around to black hair one day, as much as I didn’t want you to.”

  Danielle took out the black wig and put it on in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her deep blue eyes stood out against the black strands of synthetic hair, and Rachel smiled. She thought she would hate the look on Danielle, but no matter what color of hair or contacts Danielle tried on, she always looked beautiful and natural.

  Rachel picked up her digital camera from the bathroom counter. “Ready for your picture?” She waited for Danielle to stand in front of the light blue backdrop they had tacked to the wall. The forger would adjust the color of the backdrop as needed to match the standard backdrop for any state’s driver’s license. Danielle gave a large smile, and Rachel frowned at her. “Nobody looks good in their driver’s license photo.”

  Danielle rolled her eyes, but traded her smile for a blank, expressionless stare.

  “Much better,” Rachel said. She snapped three quick pictures to make sure not to catch Danielle with her eyes closed or in a blurry photo. She reviewed the pictures on the camera’s LCD screen. “These are perfect. You look like you were waiting at the DMV for about six hours.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a compliment because I took the picture right, or if you’re saying I look terrible,” Danielle said. She took the camera from Rachel’s hands. They traded spots and Danielle took several pictures of Rachel. “We’re all done,” she said, and handed the camera back to Rachel.

  “All done,” Rachel echoed. As she scanned the photographs Danielle took of her, the blonde wig reminded of another time she wore a similar wig. Rachel turned and examined herself in the full-length mirror. It was as if everything she did was a reminder of things best forgotten. She tugged on the blonde ends of the wig and twirled the hair between her fingers.

  You are far more beautiful without it.

  Rachel pulled the wig off her head, as the unwelcome voice rolled through her mind. Maybe blonde wasn’t such a good idea, not with all the panic attacks and memories that insisted on surfacing.

  Danielle walked up beside her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Rachel said, glad that Danielle could not read her thoughts.

  “I know you’re torn on talking to Mark, but I still believe it’s the right thing for you to do.”

  Rachel wished she could avoid the topic, but Danielle hadn’t forgotten her ultimatum. “Even though I agree with you, it doesn’t make me any less sick and terrified to tell him. There are so many ways he could react.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve already analyzed every possible end scenario,” Danielle said with a smile. “Mark will be more understanding than you ever imagined. Does he know you’re going to tell him about your past?”

  As she removed the contacts from her eyes and placed them back in the case, Rachel thought about her earlier conversation with Mark over the phone. Mark’s tone had changed when she said she wanted them to stay in that night, revealing that not only did he know she was going to tell him about her life, but that he was as frightened of the truth as she. “I think he suspects,” she said.

  “When is he coming over?”

  “The store closes at ten, so it won’t be too long after that. I should be back from the pawnshop by then. Our guy will slide in the new photos and then we’ll be set. Do you still want to go to South Carolina?”

  “I’ve always heard it’s beautiful there in the fall,” Danielle said. “If we stay there for two or three months, we should be able to see the seasons change.”

  “I’m all for that, but when we get there, we need to get our IDs fixed right away with the address of where we’ll be living. When the security alarm went off, the cops asked for my license, and of course, the address wa
s wrong since we got it in Indianapolis. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I’m glad they didn’t realize the whole thing was a fake.”

  “Me, too, but I guess that’s why we pay so much for them to be done right.”

  “Maybe after you talk to Mark tonight we won’t have to pay for them ever again,” Danielle said. She started toward the bathroom door.

  “Do you mind letting me know when it’s about 9:00?” Rachel asked before she could leave. “I want to get to the pawnshop on time so I can be here when Mark arrives.”

  Danielle glanced at her watch. “Rach, it’s almost ten now.”

  Rachel rotated her wrist and looked at her own watch. “No, it’s only a quarter till nine.” She noticed the second hand was not moving. “Damn it, my watch stopped. I should have been at the pawnshop a half hour ago.” She walked out of the bathroom and down the hall.

  Danielle followed her. “I’ll go for you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Rachel slung the camera over her shoulder. “I need to get some fresh air and clear my head before Mark comes over. Besides, even though this guy has seen a photo of you, he won’t be expecting you there. He might get spooked. I don’t want to delay because we have to find a new person for our IDs. I shouldn’t be gone more than forty-five minutes and maybe Mark will be late. You can keep him entertained until I get back, right?”

  “Of course. The good ones are always easy to entertain.”

  Rachel paused at the front door. “Danielle, even though I wish you wouldn’t go with me this time, I’m glad you are. I don’t know how I’d ever survive without you.”

  “You’d make it,” Danielle said. “After tonight, I’m betting you’ll have Mark to keep you company as well.”

  Rachel smiled, and dug her car keys out of her purse. “I hope you’re right. I don’t think I could live without him either.”

  “You’re realizing this now?” Danielle scoffed. “Get out of here and hurry back. I don’t want to have to keep him entertained for too long.”