The Stolen Identity (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  At the time, Beau had been in his third year of med school and Colt was only halfway through the Police Academy. Over the few weeks he and Morgan had dated, she’d slept over almost every night.

  Her eyes remained shadowed. Was she thinking, like he was, about their past? The wonder of those magical weeks, before fate slapped them in the face and then later, the sadness, the distance, until the final, awful days, when it had actually been a relief to bring things to an end.

  A moment later, she nodded hesitantly, uncertainty plain on her face. “Okay, but just for the night. I… I don’t want to impose.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but the Potato Festival runs for a week and it only started yesterday. You won’t get a room until it’s over. Besides, you’re not imposing, Morgan. I have plenty of room. Beau moved out years ago,” he teased.

  A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips, softening her perfect features. His gut clenched, but he resolutely ignored her effect on him. She was still a beautiful woman and he was a normal, hot-blooded man. His physical reaction to her nearness was natural. He couldn’t imagine any man not being affected by her presence. It didn’t mean anything. It was purely a physical response to a beautiful woman. It happened to guys all the time.

  “Did he finish med school?” she asked quietly, her expression now filled with curiosity.

  “Yes. In fact, he lives in the big smoke, too. I’m surprised you haven’t run into him. He works at the Sydney Harbour Hospital.”

  Surprise lit up her features. “Wow! What a coincidence! What does he specialize in?”

  “Neurology. He’s a brain surgeon.” Colt rolled his eyes but at the same time, he gave Morgan a grin. He might joke about his brother’s occupation, but the truth was, he was immensely proud of his twin.

  Morgan nodded in understanding. “That’s probably why I haven’t seen him. The birthing suites are a whole world away from the neurosurgeons, figuratively and literally. We’re not even in the same building.”

  “I’ll have to let him know you’re there next time I speak with him. I’m sure he’ll remember you.” Of course he would. Beau had been sharing the house with him way back when Morgan was a frequent visitor.

  With an impatient sound in the back of his throat, he pushed the thought from his mind. Dwelling on their past was a waste of time. They’d never go there again. After loading her suitcases back into the trunk, he climbed in beside her. Switching on the ignition, he checked his mirrors and then pulled out onto the road. He’d offered Morgan a room because she was a friend and she had nowhere to stay. There was nothing more to it.

  Yeah, right, a voice in the back of his head jeered. He resolutely ignored it and headed in the direction of the supermarket.

  * * *

  Leslie O’Brien scrolled through the sent items of his brother’s email account and cursed aloud. He’d forgotten to send Morgan a message to the effect that her father was going away. He’d meant to do it right away, but somehow it had slipped his mind. After all his meticulous preparations, he’d forgotten the simplest of things. It was stupid and only time would tell how much it would cost him.

  Now she’d turned up on his doorstep – or at least, her father’s doorstep. She’d left in shock and confusion tonight, but no doubt she’d be back and then the questions would start. All he knew was that he’d better have the right answers, starting with where the hell her dad was.

  And then there was the added complication of the cop who’d brought her home. The last thing he needed was to arouse the suspicion of the police. He’d worked so hard at his plan. He couldn’t risk having it unravel now. He wouldn’t allow it to unravel now. It was as simple as that.

  Dragging the laptop toward him, he composed a message he hoped would satisfy her curiosity – and the cop’s. Ten minutes later, he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a slow, satisfied smile.

  There. That ought to do it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Morgan wandered around the modest condominium Colt Barrington now called home. Though small, Colt’s space was twice the size of his previous digs and the furniture not only matched, it was tasteful and stylish. The dominant color scheme was masculine browns and grays, apart from a large Ken Done painting that brightened one wall and a generous woollen rug woven in red, cream and orange hues that covered a good portion of the living room floor.

  The condominium complex was perched on the side of a hill. Surrounded by bushland, it looked down on the valley where thousands of lights twinkled in the darkness, including the lights of her father’s house. She still couldn’t believe her father had left without telling her and, if her uncle could be believed, he’d been gone nearly a month. Their last conversation must have occurred right before he left. That would explain why he hadn’t mentioned his long-lost brother – a twin, no less – or that he was planning to take off for a while.

  Still, the more she thought about it, the more bizarre she found the whole situation, starting with her uncle who was now living at her father’s home. Where had he been the past fifty-five years? Why hadn’t her father known about him? How did identical twins get separated at birth? Was it really as simple as her uncle had explained? The questions kept coming and it was frustrating to know that she didn’t have any answers. At least, not yet.

  First thing the next morning, she planned to visit her uncle and see what else he had to say. Before that, she’d send her father an email and find out what the hell was going on in his head.

  The sound of the shower running reminded her that Colt would be caught up for several more minutes and the steaks hadn’t yet been put on the grill. She had time to send a message to her father and hopefully, when he found the next Internet service, he’d respond.

  Opening her handbag, she drew out her iPad and took a seat on the couch. She opened up her mail. Several new messages popped up and she scanned the headings. Her gaze past over one from Rex O’Brien and then, as if suddenly realizing that the email was from her father, she hurriedly went back to it and clicked.

  I’m sorry, Morgan. I should have told you. Leslie emailed me this evening. I can’t believe you’re in Armidale! I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you. I’m still not sure what to say. Leslie arrived on my doorstep a month ago and I couldn’t have been more shocked. I had no idea he existed, let alone that I had a twin. I’m still in shock, still coming to terms with it. I had no choice but to get away. The very idea that my parents kept this from me. They didn’t say a word and now their explanations have gone with them to the grave… I still haven’t heard the whole story from Leslie, but I guess he’ll share it with me in time.

  For now, I hope you understand. I never meant for you to find out this way. I didn’t intend to be away so long, but I’m finding it hard to return. To come back is to acknowledge what happened and to accept a terrible wrong was done – to me and to Leslie. Wherever the truth lies about our past, I can’t think of any reason why parents would choose between their sons. We were both babies! How did I get to be the lucky one? I’m overwhelmed with confusion and grief and underlying guilt.

  And another one read:

  Dear Morgan,

  Please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I have Rusty. He’s good company and he doesn’t mind the dust. It’s hot out here, but the countryside is beautiful – red and rugged and like nothing I’ve ever seen, but beautiful, just the same.

  I can drive hours and hours at a time and never pass another vehicle. It sounds strange and lonely, but I don’t mind the silence. It gives me time to think… And there’s plenty to think about.

  I don’t know when I’ll be back, Morgan, but stay in touch and take care. I’ll be in Tennant Creek tonight. After that, who knows? Phone service is pretty ordinary – public phones are few and far between and I don’t have a cell, as you know. I’ll email whenever I can, but know that I am fine. We’ll get through this – you and me and Leslie…

  A brother! I have a brother! And not just a brother, but an ident
ical twin! Amazing! We’ve spent more than half a century apart. I’m looking forward to spending the next fifty years with him in my life. I hope you’re getting to know him. He’s had a few tough knocks, but I can tell he’s a good guy.

  Much love,

  Dad

  Morgan blinked away the tears that had gathered behind her eyes and reread the message. Uncle Leslie must have emailed her father not long after she and Colt had left. It was lucky her dad had access to a Wi-Fi signal right when Leslie needed him to, but then again, it was evening. No doubt her dad had pulled into the nearest town and was even now, settling in for another night.

  She thought of him alone in the outback and hoped he was finding the comfort he sought. He must have been even more shocked than she’d been at the discovery of his twin. She’d never been further west than some distant relatives her mother had in Moree, and even that town was several hours drive from what Australians considered the outback. Still, she’d love to experience it herself one day.

  She’d been told the silence out there was absolute and the vast night sky was so clear and bright, it felt like you could reach out and touch the stars. There was something alluring about the thought of being surrounded by nothing but nature and she could understand why her father had been drawn to it after receiving such a shock. The discovery of a twin brother was life changing and he’d need time to come to terms with it, like she did. At least she knew he was all right.

  With a deep, restorative breath, she sent off a reply, thanking him for contacting her and reassuring him everything was all right. She ended it with a gentle plea that he come home soon and she told him she missed him.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Colt’s question startled her from her thoughts. She hurriedly closed her iPad and stood. He was dressed in a pair of denim cut-offs and a white T-shirt with a faded, red-and-blue Nike emblem splashed across the front. His black hair was wet from the shower and curled around his ears. His cologne smelled fresh and spicy, but dark stubble remained on his chin. She wondered if he were growing a beard.

  Realizing she hadn’t responded to his question, she blinked and shook her head. “Um, what do I think about what?”

  “About my condo? It’s a little fancier than the place I shared with Beau.”

  Morgan made a show of inspecting the room. Her impression was the same as the first time she’d looked around.

  “Yes, it’s lovely. You were both struggling students back then. I remember the feeling all too well, although at least I was able to keep living with my parents. I felt sorry for guys like you and your brother who had to leave home to get a college education.”

  He smiled and Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. He was every bit as good looking as he’d been a decade earlier. If anything, time had matured and enhanced his good looks, etching character lines into his face. She wondered about the things he’d seen and done as a detective. If the TV shows were anything to go by, it hadn’t always been good.

  “Have you always worked as a police officer in Armidale?” she asked, curious.

  “Yes. After living here with Beau during the summer break the year you and I met – well after graduation, I asked to be stationed here as a probationary constable. Beau was still in med school here and needed someone to help pay the rent.” He shrugged. “I was happy to help him out. I wasn’t earning enough to get a place on my own and living in Armidale was convenient. Mom and Dad and my younger brothers and sisters are only an hour’s drive away. Besides,” he added, “I have fond memories of this town.”

  His gaze held hers and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it. And then, he looked away and a moment later, headed toward the modest kitchen. The spell was broken.

  Morgan drew in a couple of calming breaths and slowly followed him. She stood by while he rinsed lettuce leaves under running water and dumped them into a bowl. Next he sliced tomatoes, peppers, red onion, carrot and mushrooms. A handful of snow peas also made it in. She was impressed. There was no doubt about it, the man knew how to put together a salad.

  “Do you need any help?” she offered.

  “No, but thanks. I think I have it under control. I resist cooking at every turn, but I’m actually quite good at it.”

  He flashed her a grin and her knees went weak. “Who taught you to cook?” she managed.

  “Mom. She made sure all eight of us knew our way around the kitchen. I can’t say I particularly enjoy it – not like Beau, anyway. He’s in a league of his own. But I guess I know enough to throw together a meal when I have to.”

  Morgan smiled. “Your mom did you all a favor. I went to college with plenty of kids who barely knew how to boil water. Most of the time, they lived on two-minute noodles. Every now and then they’d mix it up by tossing in a tin of baked beans. I shudder to think how they’re coping now, with families of their own.”

  Colt laughed and the husky sound of it tingled along Morgan’s nerves.

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with two-minute noodles,” he teased. “There have been plenty of nights I’ve come home late from work too tired and uninterested to cook. If it weren’t for those noodles, I’d have starved to death!”

  She laughed along with him and her tension eased. For the first time since she’d arrived in town and discovered her father gone, she felt calmer.

  He’d emailed her. He’d assured her he was all right. He was working through the discovery he had a brother. It would take some time. She could only hope and pray it wouldn’t take too long. She’d taken a fortnight’s leave from work. Next time her dad contacted her, she’d let him know. Perhaps the knowledge she was only there for two weeks would hasten his return. She hoped so.

  “How do you like your steak?”

  Once again, Colt’s question broke into her thoughts. He’d finished with the salad and now held a plate containing two T-bones. “Medium rare, thanks. Are you sure I can’t do something to help?”

  “Well, if you really want to feel useful, you could always open that bottle of Sauvignon Blanc you chose at the liquor store. A glass of wine would go down well right about now.”

  “Of course,” she replied and picked up the bottle from the kitchen counter. She unscrewed the lid and the crisp, fruity aroma wafted toward her nose. She drew in an appreciative breath. “Mm, that smells fantastic.”

  “Good choice,” he responded, deftly setting a skillet on top of the hotplate and adding a splash of oil. “I didn’t know you drank white wine.”

  She chuckled. “Hey, back when you knew me I was a poor student. I drank the cheapest alcohol I could find. Now that I’ve managed to work my way up into a reasonably well-paying job, my tastes have become somewhat more refined. Nothing beats a good white and Australia produces some of the best.”

  He smiled. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

  Once again, her belly did a somersault. What the hell was she doing? Why had she agreed to stay with Colt Barrington, of all people? She would have been better off taking her chances with overbooked hotels… Wouldn’t she?

  She suppressed a sigh. The truth was, so far she was enjoying his company. It reminded her of the early days of their relationship, before the words “pregnancy,” “baby” and “termination” became part of their vocabulary. The thought sobered her. Did she really want to rekindle something with the man she was once head over heels in love with? Did he?

  She had no idea, but all of a sudden, the possibility was both exhilarating and terrifying…

  * * *

  The steaks were cooked to perfection and even the salad was good. The plates had been cleared away and the bottle of wine was nearly empty. Colt leaned back against his seat and gazed across at Morgan.

  Throughout the meal, they’d maintained pleasant conversation and had caught up on each other’s lives and careers. He was surprised to discover she was single and she appeared to be just as surprised that he was, too. He wanted to question her further on the top
ic, but he didn’t want to give her an opportunity to delve into his reasons for avoiding marriage. It was an issue he refused to dwell on. Even Beau couldn’t draw him into it for long. Colt cleared his throat and changed the subject.

  “Tell me about your uncle.”

  Morgan’s face filled with a fresh wave of surprise. “I learned of Leslie O’Brien’s existence the same moment you did. My dad’s never spoken of him. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “From what I gathered,” Colt said, “your father didn’t know about him, either. It seems amazing that such a thing could be kept a secret all these years. I mean, imagine if it had happened to Beau and me? Being twins, I can’t imagine what it would be like if we lived the first fifty or sixty years of our lives not knowing the other existed.” He shook his head at the thought. “It seems inconceivable.”

  “Yes,” Morgan agreed, “and yet, it’s true.”

  Colt lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re happy to take your uncle’s word for it?”

  Morgan shrugged. “What reason would he have to lie? Besides, I received a couple of emails from my father while you were in the shower. Uncle Leslie must have contacted him right after we left. Dad confirmed that Leslie is his twin and that they’ve been separated since birth. Dad was as shocked and confused as I am. It’s the reason he took off in such a hurry without saying anything. He needed to get away, to have some time to think. I can’t help but feel a little resentful toward my uncle because if not for him, Dad would still be here.”

  Colt nodded. He understood how she felt and was relieved to hear Morgan’s father had made contact. “Wow, I can’t even begin to imagine how he must feel…and how many questions he must have. Are his parents still alive?”

  Morgan shook her head. “No. They’ve both passed.”

  “Any brothers and sisters?”

  “No, until now, we believed Dad was an only child. No one ever thought to ask them if they’d had any other children – like a twin they just happened to give away…”