by Cate Beauman
Chase bowed his head, letting the hot spray rinse the shampoo from his hair as he pressed his hands to the new shower tiles he’d installed earlier in the week. He stood perfectly still while the water ran down his neck and shoulders, releasing the tension Julie’s magic hands had vanished mere minutes ago.
This evening certainly hadn’t gone as planned. He was supposed to have pulled Julie aside after her last massage, apologized for his shitty behavior a couple of days ago, then joke her out of any lingering anger—the way he used to when he pissed her off, which hadn’t been all that often. She was supposed to have smiled and accepted his invitation to dinner where they would have found their way back to some sort of friendship. But that was before his less-than-brilliant idea to snag the last available slot in her appointment book.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, muttering a string of curses. Had he really thought that having Julie rub her hands all over his body was going to end well? The moment she laid her palms on his calf, he’d realized his mistake. Then she discovered his scars and touched him with such tenderness, looked at him with such anguish in her big hazel eyes, that he’d known she understood his pain, that ten years of resentments and misunderstandings had done little to break their undeniable connection. She’d just about broken him when she took his hand and told him she was sorry, aware that his wounds were the end of his career. His ambitions had gotten in the way of their relationship a decade ago—he could see that now—yet she’d apologized to him, knowing how much the FBI had meant to him.
As if that hadn’t been enough to seriously complicate their already impossible situation, they’d kissed. He clenched his jaw, steaming out a long breath as thoughts of Julie in his arms shook him up all over again. He just wanted things back the way they used to be—or close to it. Having Julie in his life seemed right, but what Julie said was also right. They couldn’t go back. She’d planted one on him, wanting him to push her away, he knew. And he had before he pulled her right back, finally taking what he’d wanted—no—what he’d needed for over a decade. There was as much heat between them now as ever—more—but that mattered little. He’d promised her that after tonight he would leave her alone, and in two days from now, he would be back in California.
Sighing, he shut off the water and dried himself off, ignoring the waves of regret. He and Julie had come full circle, and the results were exactly the same. She would stay in Bakersfield, and he would go.
He walked to his room, pulled on fresh boxers, gray slacks, and a white button-down with a black sweater. He secured his phone on his hip, hesitated, and grabbed it back out, dialing Ethan. Julie wanted him gone, and he had every intention of obliging her wishes as soon as he knew what was what. She had a lot going on in her life right now. He wasn’t making things easier by living next door, but he wanted to help, especially where Neve Porter was concerned.
“Cooke.”
“Hey, Ethan. It’s Chase.”
“Hey, man. How’s Washington treating you?”
“Not half bad. I’m wrapping things up around here. I should be back Saturday afternoon and ready to roll.” He glanced toward the light burning bright beyond the curtains in Julie’s bedroom window and turned away. “I need you to run someone for me.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Name is Neve Porter—”
“As in Porter Pharmaceuticals, Neve Porter?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you much about her other than she has a daughter who disappeared twenty-five years ago. Child’s name is Alyson Porter—Alyson spelled with a ‘y.’ Three-year-old white female.” Who looked so damn much like Julie Keller.
“Let me see what I can track down and I’ll call you back.”
“If you can put a rush on it, I’d appreciate it. It’s important.”
“I’ll get right on it. Sarah and the kids are over at Wren and Tucker’s making ornaments. Give me half an hour.”
“Thanks.” He went back to the bathroom, sending a comb through his hair, pausing and swallowing as he flashed back to Julie moaning and the sensation of her fingers journeying up his back. It had been so long since he heard that sound, since he felt— His phone rang, and he frowned. That was quick—too quick to be Ethan. He glanced at the readout and saw that it was Julie’s home line. “Hello?”
“I never said a time. I’m ready.”
“I’ll be right over. Give me five minutes.”
“Okay.” She hung up.
He spritzed on his cologne and went downstairs, sliding his feet into his shoes, and stepped outside. Julie was waiting for him by the doorway, wearing black leggings, Uggs, and a red sweater. “Jesus, Jules. It’s freezing out here. Go back inside. Let me warm up the truck first.”
She shook her head. “I just want to go.”
“Okay.” He unlocked her side, waited for her to settle in, and shut her door before going around to his side and starting the truck. “I’ve gotta give the engine a minute.”
She nodded, staring straight ahead, then darted him a glance.
The ever-familiar tension choked the cabin as they sat in the glow of the outside light. “Jules—”
“Thank you for coming,” she said quickly, pressing her hands together.
Clearly she anticipated him bringing up where they left off in her massage room, and she had no intention of discussing the situation further. He steamed out a frustrated breath as he backed out. “You’re welcome.”
He took the right onto Main Street and followed the back roads to the highway, all in heavy silence. “I want to help,” he said despite her perfectly readable cues for quiet. “What can I do?” Years ago, he would’ve known what she needed, but he didn’t now.
“I don’t need help. This is ridiculous, the whole thing. Clearly that woman’s not healthy. Just because we share a resemblance means nothing.”
It was more than a resemblance. They were almost a damn mirror image. He glanced at her hands gripped in her lap. “We can turn around.”
She shook her head. “If we don’t go, she’ll show up again.” Sighing, she leaned back against the seat. “I just want everything back the way it was when my life made sense.”
He clenched his jaw, understanding her perfectly. “Before I got here.”
Their eyes met in the glow from the dashboard.
“I’m sorry. That’s rude.”
“But it’s true.”
“Yes.”
He absorbed the flicker of… He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“You feel the way you feel.” He gave a quick jerk of his shoulders as his phone rang. “This is Rider,” he answered.
“Hey, man. The lady you’re seeking is definitely Porter Pharmaceuticals. We’re talking big, big money—leaders in the industry. She and her son have been running the company since her husband died about seven years ago. Her daughter vanished from their Newton, Massachusetts mansion on December fifteenth, nineteen ninety.”
He slid a look at Julie as his gut screamed that there was something to this. Women of Neve Porter’s standing didn’t just go around inviting random strangers out for drinks, making rumblings about missing children. Deep down, Julie knew there was more to this as well. “I really appreciate this.”
“You’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s up?”
He glanced at Julie again. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“Sure. Oh, I want you in on the Strizor meeting Monday morning. Since you and Collin are heading out next month, you should both be in on it.”
“Yeah. I’m good to go as early as Saturday evening if something comes up. I take off at eight that morning, so I’m game for whatever.”
“Sounds good. We’re looking forward to having you back.”
“I’m looking forward to being back.” He looked at Julie as she looked at him. “See you soon, and thanks again.”
“No problem.”
He ended the call and put
away his phone.
“So Saturday’s the big day.”
He nodded. “The house is pretty much finished—just the upstairs bedrooms are left. Paint’s going up tonight and carpeting tomorrow morning.” He exited off the highway and made his way to The Grand Hotel.
“That was a quick overhaul.”
“It was.”
“You should flip houses.”
“I like what I do now.”
She nodded.
And that seemed to be all they had to say as he pulled into the parking garage and found a spot fairly close to the hotel entrance. He took the key from the ignition. “Ready?”
“I’m ready to get this over with.”
“Then let’s go see what she has to say.”
~~~~
Julie walked into The Grand Hotel’s luxury bar and lounge with Chase a step behind. She searched the crowds for Neve in the dimly lit space and struggled not to turn around and rush back out when she spotted her waiting in a quiet corner. Neve had clipped her hair back with a barrette, much the way Julie had herself, and their resemblance was terrifyingly similar.
“There she is,” Chase said, touching the small of her back as he stopped at her side.
“I see her.” She inched away from his fingers against her sweater, the gesture too intimate and familiar after what passed between them only an hour ago. He smelled great, looked even better in his casual-dressy attire, but that was a problem for later. Right now she had her hands full with her newest dilemma. Neve smiled and started their way, and Julie braced herself for her date with a stranger that couldn’t end too soon.
“You made it.”
Julie nodded, studying the deep dip in Neve’s top lip, her high cheekbones, small nose, and big hazel eyes, as fascinated as she was frightened by how much they looked alike.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Neve said to Chase.
“Chase Rider.” He shook her hand. “Julie’s…friend.”
Neve nodded, looking from Chase to Julie and back. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase. Should we take a seat? I arranged for a table far in the back. We’ll have some privacy and quiet.”
“Sure,” he answered for them, touching Julie again, giving her a gentle push to follow as Neve turned.
Julie caught a hint of Neve’s subtle perfume and stopped mid-step as images flashed in her mind: a white rocking chair and a storybook while someone held her close. She pressed her fingers to her temple as her heart began to race, and she hesitated, not wanting to move. She came for answers, but suddenly she was petrified to hear what Neve Porter had to say.
Chase touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Not even a little, but she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” With little choice, she followed their hostess through the restaurant, waiting for Chase to slide into the booth before she sat next to him. She caught another whiff of Neve’s perfume and waited for more troubling…memories? Clenching her jaw, she gripped her hands in her lap, fighting the overwhelming need to shake. She caught Chase’s eye, noting how closely he was watching her, and looked away, well aware that he could read her emotions as easily now as he could ten years ago.
“I can only say thank you again—to both of you for meeting with me at the last moment,” Neve started. “I imagine this is a lot to take in, and I appreciate your willingness to listen.”
She didn’t want to listen. She wanted to get up and leave. “I’m not your daughter. I’m not Alyson.”
“If—”
“Good evening.” A waiter walked over with menus.
“We’re not having dinner,” Neve explained. “Unless you’ve changed your minds.”
“I think we’ll stick with a glass of wine,” Chase said as he scooted closer to Julie, taking her hand and gripping it tight.
“What kind of wine can I bring you tonight?” The waiter looked at Julie.
“Uh.” She didn’t know—couldn’t think about anything but a white rocking chair and the familiar scent of Neve Porter’s perfume. And how good Chase’s big hand felt holding hers.
“The lady will have a cabernet,” Chase supplied.
“Yes, a cabernet,” she mumbled, sending him a small smile of thanks.
He winked and held her tighter, his steady support unmistakable and just what she needed.
“A cabernet sounds lovely. What about you, Chase?”
“I’ll take a pale ale on draught.”
“Very well. I’ll be back shortly with your selections.”
“Thank you,” all three of them said as their waiter walked away, and silence hung heavy at the table.
“I’m not really sure where to begin,” Neve said, lacing her fingers.
“We could start with why you think Julie’s your daughter.”
Neve smiled. “There are some things in life you just know.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “That you can feel.”
Chase’s brow shot up as he cleared his throat. “Mrs. Porter, I’m sure you can understand why this is a little hard to take in, why Julie will need more than hunches and feelings to even be able to consider that this is a possibility.”
“Please, call me Neve. And yes, I can.”
“We look alike,” Julie spoke up. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Ally favored me when she was little—my little twin everyone used to say.”
Julie stared at the woman sitting across from her—a glimpse at what she herself would look like in a couple of decades—and looked away.
“We had the perfect little family.” Neve smiled again. “We were getting ready to celebrate Christmas. The children were so excited. Noah and Ally were full with holiday spirit.”
Julie gave Neve her full attention. “Noah?”
“My son. He’s thirty-one now. He was five—just about six when Alyson was taken.”
Alyson had a brother. Had Neve’s son tossed coins in a fountain and watched movies with his sister? She swallowed as her throat grew tight.
“What happened the night your daughter disappeared?” Chase asked.
“It was so long ago, but it seems like yesterday.” Neve paused when the waiter set their drinks in front of them. “Thank you,” she murmured as the man walked away. “Jay and I were hosting a ball that night. Noah and Alyson stayed upstairs with a babysitter. She tucked Ally in and read stories with Noah. When she went in to check on my baby girl awhile later, she was gone.” Neve sipped her wine.
“What happened after?” Chase wanted to know.
“There was a note—a demand for a million dollars to get Ally back, but no one ever called. I never saw her again.” She shook her head. “As the years passed, they told me she was gone, that my Alyson was dead, but she isn’t. I would know. Just as I know what I do now.”
Julie’s stomach churned, fully understanding Neve’s implications. “Mrs. Porter, I’m not Alyson.”
“You have a scar on your left arm. Right about here.” Neve made a circle on her own arm, to the right of her bicep where Julie did indeed have an inch-long scar.
Her eyes darted to Chase’s as her pulse pounded.
“I’m not exactly sure what happened,” Neve continued. “You and Noah were up to some mischief in the kitchen, but the cabinet caught you. It made quite a mess and scared a good ten years off my life.”
Julie slid several loose strands of hair behind her ear with clammy fingers as she squirmed in her seat. Mom said she’d injured her arm on a fence.
“I would love to have you come to Boston. You could stay with me at the house. When you feel comfortable, we could move forward with DNA testing—”
Saliva pooled in Julie’s mouth, the way it always did before she was sick, and she rushed up from the booth. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what game this is you’re playing, but it’s disgusting and it’s cruel.”
“Alyson—Julie, wait.” Neve moved to stand.
“No.” She pointed her finger. “You leave me alone. Don’t come back to my house, or I’ll call
the police.” She hurried past the long line of empty tables into the busier section of the lounge, trying to figure out why this was happening.
“Jules.” Chase caught up to her, snagging her arm. “Jules.”
She yanked herself free and whirled, her breath heaving. “I want to go home.”
“Okay. We’ll go.”
She moved double-time to the parking garage and Chase’s truck, relieved to find the cabin still slightly warm as she took her seat. Bobbing her leg up and down, she waited impatiently for Chase to pull out of their spot and start putting distance between her and the woman she never wanted to see again. Several minutes passed while Chase drove through the city then north on 395 while Julie fiddled with the radio stations, looking for something other than Christmas music. She wasn’t in the mood for cheery holiday songs.
“So do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She twisted the dial faster, then killed the power to the radio altogether. “It’s not hard to find out that I have a scar. You can see it plain as day,” she spewed, deciding maybe she did want to talk about it after all.
“She’s legit, Jules. I ran her.”
“Well, she’s not legit when it comes to me.” She sat back, crossing her arms and bopping her leg again, faster. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I mean wouldn’t I remember being taken from my own home?”
“I’m going to call in a couple of favors and get my hands on the Alyson Porter files—”
“No.”
“Jules—”
“I’m not that child. I can’t be. That would mean my mother—” She shook her head, unable to think it, much less say it. “I’m sorry she lost her daughter, but I’m not going to be a replacement.”
He turned off Main Street onto Old Hickory Lane. “It wouldn’t hurt to look into things.”
“I don’t need to look into anything. I know who I am, and I’m not related to her.”
Chase pulled into his driveway, and she got out before he fully braked. “Jesus, Jules.” He yanked the keys from the ignition and followed her around to her back door.
He wasn’t supposed to follow. This was the part where he was supposed to walk away. She turned at her door. “Thank you for coming with me. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to talk about this.”