Identical Stranger

by Alice Sharpe

  It was locked. He rapped his knuckles against the glass. “Anyone here?” he called.

  It took a second, but then he heard approaching footsteps. The door was opened by a man twice his age whose once dark hair was now threaded with white. He wore thick glasses, but behind the lenses, the eyes were bright and curious. Suspenders held up faded jeans and he was in the process of shrugging on a tweed sports coat. “I’m just on my way out,” he said. “Think you can come back tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jack said and showed him his own license, explaining in as succinct of terms as possible who he was. He threw in Cannon’s name as an incentive for cooperation. “I hate to sound dramatic, but it could very well be a matter of life and death,” he ended.

  The man stepped aside. “Dominick Taylor, call me Dom,” the man said, gesturing to his desk, where he indicated Jack should take a seat in the visitor’s chair. He settled himself in his own worn swivel chair, the seat sagging, the armrest wrapped in duct tape. A large computer sat off to one side, much as it did on Jack’s own desk back in California.

  “I’ve never actually met Cannon,” Dom said. “His attorneys contacted me.”

  “He wanted to find out the identity of his granddaughters,” Jack said.

  Dom nodded but with obvious hesitation. Jack understood the old guy was determined to protect his client and his coworkers and he respected that. “That investigation had to be tricky,” he said. “I was told by Cannon’s housekeeper of many years that he had destroyed all the records of his granddaughters’ adoptions. In fact, I got the impression he’d never even known the adopted family’s names.”

  “That’s what I was told,” Dom said. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? I have three little grandkids of my own—well, everyone is different. Anyway the lawyer he used was long dead, his office long gone. But we finally found a secretary who remembered the event because...well, suffice to say she remembered it.”

  “Because it separated identical twin babies,” Jack stated, “and I bet that got to her.”

  Dom smiled. “You’re right, it did. She confessed she’d thought many times over the years that she’d like to tell them about each other. In the end, she kept her word and didn’t say anything.”

  “The cat is out of the bag now,” Jack said. “Sophia knows about Sabrina and, if at all possible, she will soon tell Sabrina their story. That’s why I’m here, to make sure they have a chance at long last to meet.”

  “Did their grandfather tell them about each other or did they find out through their pending inheritance?”

  “Neither. Sabrina is my buddy’s wife and she asked for help because she felt threatened. Her twin sister, Sophie, happened to show up at the same hotel. I mistook her for Sabrina. Together, we discovered Sabrina is missing. The police think they have it all wrapped up but I have a horrible suspicion they’re set on the wrong man.”

  “What do you need from me?” Dom asked as he picked up a pencil and started doodling eyes on a piece of paper.

  “I was told the dossier was to include photographs taken on the sly of each woman.”

  “I took Sophia’s myself,” Dom said and, swiveling the chair, opened the bottom drawer of a tall cabinet and withdrew a fat file. He took out two photographs. The top one was of Sophie taken as she left a school, obviously, the one at which she taught. Her hair was lighter, longer, and one hand was raised as if to sweep it away from her face. She wore boots and a brown coat buttoned up to her chin. She looked downtrodden somehow, timid, not much like the woman he’d gotten to know the last few days and nothing like the image he carried of her in his heart.

  Sophia. His Sophie. Face it, that’s how he thought of her, as his. Crazy.

  “This one was taken by a guy in Astoria,” Dom said, shuffling the photographs around. “I met him once at a friend’s place. Funny guy. Anyway, when I couldn’t leave town to go to Astoria myself, I sent him directions.” He slid a photograph forward.

  Sabrina’s photo was a three sixty from Sophia’s. It had been taken through what appeared to be her kitchen window, the lens zoomed into her face. He could see the steam rising around her, even a few moist droplets on her brow and sticking to the dark tendrils of her hair.

  “Arty, isn’t it?” Dom said.

  “She told me about this,” Jack told him. “She felt violated by the photographer.”

  “She saw him?”

  “Yes. He posed as a painter.”

  Dom’s lips disappeared as he frowned. “I wondered how he got something so...personal. The instructions were to get a shot like that of the other girl, a head-to-toe, but this is all he sent me.”

  “I need his name,” Jack said.

  “I feel funny giving it to you,” Dom said quietly.

  “Look, he probably has nothing to do with nothing. But maybe he saw someone else when he was looking at her, who knows? I’m not the cops. They don’t even seem to think she’s in trouble. I’ll make sure he doesn’t connect you with me but I have to talk to him and I don’t have time to interview every photographer in Astoria.”

  “Be that as it may...” Dom said with obvious hesitation.

  Jack cleared his throat, ever aware of the time ticking away and the urgency of the situation. “Let me put it this way, Dom. Cannon wanted to leave his granddaughters his fortune because somewhere in his heart he knew he hadn’t done right by them. The last thing in the world he’d want is to harm them because of something he instigated. From what I hear he’s on his deathbed. I don’t have time to go back to Weather Island and get him to sign a release form or whatever. It’s up to you and me to use our heads.”

  Dom folded his hands under his chin and narrowed his eyes. At last he said, “Louis. Louis Nash. I don’t know how much work he does, what with that limp of his. I don’t know where he lives—we did everything over the internet.”

  “Limp?” Jack asked as alarm stepped up his heartbeat.

  “Yeah.”

  “Which leg?”

  “Let me think. The right. Maybe. I only met him once and then I only saw him take a step or two. Yeah, right. I think. Sorry. Does it matter?”

  “Probably not,” Jack said, but he was already calling up Lisa’s file that he kept on his phone. He found the composite sketch he was looking for and showed it to Dom. “Is this him?”

  Dom made a cursory glance. “Nah, Louis is over forty. This guy is what? Twentysomething?”

  “It’s a ten-year-old drawing,” Jack pointed out and felt foolish. There was no way Lisa’s killer and this man could be one and the same. Lots of people limped and not all limps were chronic.

  Dom took the phone and studied the screen, then handed it back. “Sorry. I mean, it could be. Louis is tall, thinner than that sketch, older—I can’t tell. But sketches—I mean, really, they all kind of look alike. Who is this guy?”

  “A killer,” Jack said quickly.

  “Nah, not Louis. He’s not the type.”

  “Chances are good you’re right,” Jack said as he met Dom’s gaze head-on. He knew he’d jumped to conclusions when he heard about the photographer’s limp and was already regretting casting aspersions on a man who might very well be as innocent as the driven snow. “That said,” he added, “you and I both know there’s no way to look inside another man’s soul.”

  “No,” Dom said with a weary sigh. “No, there’s not.”

  Chapter Nine

  “How long did Lisa live after she was abducted?” Sophie asked Jack as they drove the dark twisting road to the coast. Her question was met with silence but she had to know. “Jack?”

  “The condition of her burned body made it difficult to tell for sure,” he finally said.

  “It’s been three days for Sabrina,” Sophie whispered almost to herself.

  “Remember the cases aren’t related,” Jack said. “Even if Sabrina’s been abducted, it�
�s extremely unlikely it’s by the same guy. The odds are astronomical.”

  “But you showed the investigator Lisa’s killer’s composite sketch. Doesn’t that mean you’ve connected the two men?”

  “Not in any concrete way,” he said. “Lots of people limp. No one knows whether the guy who took Lisa had a chronic limp or an injury or maybe no limp at all. Maybe he just used it as a decoy thing. It just hit me hard when Dom mentioned his Astoria photographer limped. I let it get to me.”

  “Did you have a chance to talk to Detective Reece again? Have they apprehended Paul Rey?”

  “I did talk to him briefly. He said they found Rey’s car abandoned up in the woods. It’s assumed he somehow got another. And that means you’re still not safe, damn it. Oh, and Reece said he’s talked to the fire department, who have decided to launch a thorough search of side roads starting tomorrow morning. Of course, Sabrina could still be in the Seaport area or have driven south, so those areas need to be searched, too. Search parties are being formed even as we speak.”

  “Now if we can just get the police to come around. Did you tell Reece about the photographer?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “I’ll go talk to the guy first thing tomorrow. I don’t want to cause Louis Nash trouble if he hasn’t earned it.”

  “But how will you know?”

  He shook his head. “You make a point. But we need Reece to take Sabrina’s situation seriously. I can’t afford to put him off by sounding like I’m hell-bent on revenge for a ten-year-old murder case that happened a thousand miles away.”

  Sophie sighed. “And the clock just keeps ticking.”

  “I know.”

  She drew quiet as she tried to reestablish a connection to Sabrina’s psyche—if that’s what had happened earlier when she “felt” the raindrops and smelled the dirt—but had no luck.

  “Tell me what happened with your mother,” Jack said. She was startled out of her thoughts, but she knew he was trying to divert her attention and she appreciated it.

  “She started out defensive but eventually opened up,” Sophie reported. “In fact, I think it’s the only genuine conversation she and I have ever had.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah, it is. She told me how she and Dad had been turned down by various adoption agencies because of their health. When their friend—who was an attorney—heard about this private no-questions-asked adoption, they jumped on it. I think most people would have been a little put off by the fact that, technically speaking, it wasn’t legal let alone ethical, but they saw it as a last chance for parenthood. Much to my surprise, Mom said she was as anxious as Dad to have a family.”

  “What happened to her...enthusiasm?” Jack asked.

  “According to her, I gravitated toward Dad from the get-go. She also admitted she was nervous, always ready for my ‘real’ parents to demand me back. See, they had no idea where I came from, whose child I was, knew nothing about my grandfather or another baby. I think she decided it would be easier to lose me if she didn’t get too attached.”

  “So she didn’t know your grandfather was Mr. Moneybags.”

  “No idea. She’s thrilled, by the way. In fact, she now says she never liked Danny, claims that I can do better.”

  “And what do you think?”

  She slid him a long glance. “I think she’s right, I can do better.”

  “Damn straight,” he said with a charming grin that lightened her heart for a moment as they drove into Astoria. Without discussing it, he drove straight to the Cromwell house. They found it as they’d left it: dark and seemingly empty. Just to be sure, Jack darted through the rain to knock. When he got back into the car, he took a deep breath. “I think we might as well have dinner and get a good night’s sleep. What do you think?”

  “Sounds good.”

  The hotel Jack checked them into was built on the site of a former fish cannery and boasted a restaurant of its own. They both ordered scallops and shared a bottle of Pinot Gris. All around them, people dining by candlelight seemed engaged in intimate conversations as they enjoyed the good food and fine ambiance. But while there was no one in the world Sophie would rather share a meal with, she couldn’t help but be preoccupied and she knew Jack was, too.

  Would she ever meet the sister with whom she’d entered the world? The fear she would lose her on the eve of finding her was so strong as to border on a premonition. It was a relief when Jack set aside his napkin. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and managed to reassure her with a smile.

  They tried taking a walk, but the cold rain just made Sophie more upset. Was Sabrina outside in this and hurt? Both tired and heartsick, they retreated to their room, where Sophie told Jack to take the first shower as she had finally remembered to bring clothes of her own from home and needed to sort what she’d hastily thrown in the suitcase.

  When it was her turn to bathe, she soaked in the huge tub before changing into the only silky night garment she owned, a long gown that almost matched the fading lilac streak in her hair.

  Jack whistled as she reentered the room. “I thought I would miss seeing you in my oversize plaid flannel pajama top, but wowza, you look gorgeous.”

  She pirouetted. “Thank you.”

  He was propped up in bed fooling with his phone. He set it beside the lamp, tossed open the covers and held out an arm. “Come here,” he coaxed and she crawled in beside him. He gathered her into his arms and held her so close his heart seemed to beat for her, too.

  For a second they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “You look so sad it’s breaking my heart,” he whispered as he touched her cheek.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be.” He hugged her tighter. “She’s never far away from my mind either, and now I heard from Buzz. He’s in New Zealand and he’s worried sick because Sabrina isn’t responding to his calls or email. I told him she’s still off on her own. God, I have to find her before he gets here the day after tomorrow. And not just for him either.”

  “For Lisa and for yourself,” she whispered against his wonderfully bare muscular chest.

  “No, Sophie, for you. I have to get her home safely for you.” He lifted her chin and met her gaze. “Don’t you know that?”

  Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she nodded. He held her even tighter. The musky scent of his skin seemed to envelop her, while the physical strength of his arms surged strength of another kind into her bones.

  “If she’s off romancing fireman Kyle, I’m going to be really pissed off,” he added.

  “She’s not off romancing anyone,” Sophie said with 100 percent certainty.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She closed her eyes and thought about how to respond. In the end she simply said, “I just am. She needs us.”

  “You can feel her?” he asked.

  “Kind of. I just know that she was alive around five o’clock. But she’s hurt and scared and about to give up hope.” She cast him an upward glance. “We have to find her tomorrow, Jack, we just have to.”

  He kissed her lips and her forehead. “We will,” he said with confidence ringing in his voice.

  She closed her eyes, reaching inward, outward, just trying to stay open to any sensation, but there was nothing there. Just the steady beat of Jack’s heart reverberating throughout her body.

  And for now, that would have to be enough.

  * * *

  JACK WOKE UP with a start. He thought someone was rattling the door and for a second his body tensed. Sophie still lay in his arms, her lovely face visible thanks to a wash of light that fell across the bed. The sound came again and he realized it was the wind blowing a chair against the outside wall of their balcony.

  As if sensing his tenseness, her eyes fluttered open. “Is it morning?” she mumbled.


  “It’s the middle of the night,” he told her, burying his head in her fragrant hair, kissing her petal-soft neck. She turned her head and his lips found hers.

  What happened next was like being swept up by a giant wave, tossed around in tumultuous fury until finally being thrown onto a foreign beach. They tore at each other’s clothes, desperate for the feel of each other, kissing and exploring as they went until they came together with an inevitable explosion. It was over in a flash and they lay side by side, both breathing heavy, Sophie’s lovely gown a heap on the floor along with his pajama bottoms. Everything was the same and yet totally different. He couldn’t keep from touching her, enjoying the weight of her breasts in his hands and the dewy softness of her rounded buttocks. She, too, explored his body until at last their caresses awakened the same burning hunger that once again brought them together.

  Jack had had lovers over the years, some more serious than others, none since Lisa whom he’d ever seriously contemplated a future with, but this was different. He wasn’t positive how. He only knew some meals you ate with relish and walked away from the table, sated. And some meals were so special you lingered and then yearned to indulge yourself again, and again.

  “That was like a firestorm,” Sophie whispered against his ear as her fingers twined in his hair.

  He tightened his arm to bring her closer. “I thought of a tidal wave.”

  She giggled sleepily, the sound like a trilling brook. A trilling brook? Good heavens, he was obviously under her spell. A smile curved his lips as his consciousness drifted away like a wisp of smoke.

  * * *

  “IT’S TOO EARLY for room service,” Jack said as he stared at the room’s complimentary coffee machine. He lifted a packet of what promised to be a Hawaiian blend of deeply roasted beans—sure, he thought—and added, “I’ll just double up the packets.”

  There was no way in the world Sophie wanted to lift the lid on another room service tray until Paul Rey was behind bars, so she simply nodded. She’d dressed in clean jeans, a thermal undershirt and wool sweater and now laced up a pair of hiking boots. The final touch was a pair of silver earrings that she’d grabbed off her dresser at home. Belatedly she recalled Danny had given them to her, but she put them on anyway. The elongated silver discs caught the light and brightened her face.