A Man Like Him

by Rachel Brimble

  The officer smiled at Angela. “Sure.”

  He swiveled around in his chair, typing something on a keyboard in front of him before running a cursor over several on-screen files. Angela curled her fingers around the back of his chair as her heart picked up speed. She wanted nothing more than DI Garrett to be wrong and the screen to show Robert sitting in that bar.

  Then he’d be arrested and thrown back into prison for more years than he could ever imagine—and she’d be free to ask Chris out on another date, start over...

  “Angela?”

  She snapped her gaze to DI Garrett’s. The inspector looked at her kindly, her soft green gaze lingering on hers in such a knowing way, Angela wondered if she could read her mind.

  “You okay?”

  Angela nodded. “Sure.”

  The inspector stared a moment longer before turning back to the screen. Hadn’t Chris warned her about his sister’s intuitiveness? Hadn’t he warned her just how good a cop she was? She wouldn’t have been mistaken about the identity of the guy at the bar. Which meant Robert hadn’t been at the restaurant, either.

  Angela turned to the monitor just as a grainy picture filled the screen. The bar was dark but the black-and-white video coverage was clear enough to make out the features of the patrons lining the bar. Angela leaned closer. There was nobody who looked remotely like Robert.

  “Recognize anyone?” DI Garrett asked.

  Angela shook her head, her gaze scanning back and forth. “No. Who did the bartender think was Robert?”

  “Wait.”

  A second later, the camera panned a little farther to the right—Angela’s breath caught. “Him.” She put her finger to the screen, right on the face of the same person she’d seen in the restaurant.

  Yet it wasn’t Robert. He had the same abundance of hair as the guy at the restaurant, the same ill-fitting clothes—but it wasn’t him. How could she have been so stupid? Yet when she looked closer, she saw why she was mistaken. He had the same sculpted jaw, the same high forehead and his thick dark hair was almost identical to Robert’s. She shook her head. His nose was broader, his eyes closer set. He was handsome, just not handsome enough.

  Angela stared at the screen. “It’s not him.”

  “Is it the same person you saw at The Oceanside?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.” DI Garrett blew out a heavy breath and turned to the officer in front of the monitor. “Thanks, Constable, that’s all we need.”

  She gestured toward the door and Angela led the way from the room. Once they were in the corridor, she leaned back against the wall as hope of Robert’s imprisonment disappeared on a puff of misidentification.

  “So now we’re back to hoping he doesn’t show up, right?”

  DI Garrett nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “There’s something about that guy in the bar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Chris and I were in the restaurant, he looked at me. Not glanced. Looked.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I think you should ask him again if he knows Robert.”

  “We’ve spoken to him, Angela. We’ve asked him enough questions to satisfy any suspicions you or I might have. If you look closely there’s little more than a passing resemblance between them. As soon as I saw the footage, I knew it wasn’t him. He’s openly walking around the Cove. I’m surprised we haven’t had more calls from people thinking he’s Masters. We haven’t. It’s not someone trying to impersonate him.”

  Long suppressed feelings of paranoia and stupidity filtered back into Angela’s conscience like an invisible and penetrative poison. It seeped into her pores and into her blood, taking her back into a world she thought she’d never have to exist in again.

  She pushed away from the wall and crossed her arms. “So you won’t question him further?”

  DI Garrett shook her head. “I have no reason to.”

  Their gazes locked as determination clenched like a fist in Angela’s stomach. “He knows Robert. I’m sure of it.”

  “Why? Because he looks a little like him? Masters has no extended family, no siblings.”

  Angela trembled. “Do you know what? Your reluctance to listen to me makes me think you’re no different than the cops who were supposedly there to help me. They didn’t trust that I knew Robert better than them, either.”

  DI Garrett frowned, her gaze steely. “That’s not what I’m doing at all. Of course you know him better than us. How can you not?”

  “Then speak to this guy again. For me. Otherwise...” Angela bit her teeth together.

  “Otherwise what?”

  Angela glared. “Otherwise, I’ll do things my way.”

  “Which means you’ll go after Robert and risk your life, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Angela, please. You have to let me do my job.” DI Garrett’s shoulders slumped and she put her hand on Angela’s forearm. “Believe me, I wanted that guy to be Masters. I wanted to arrest him and get his ass thrown back in jail. I wanted that for you. So you could carry on living in Templeton as you have been. It’s not him.” She sighed. “If you want me to arrange for this guy to be followed for twenty-four hours, I will. But that’s the best I can do. Okay?”

  For a long moment, Angela said nothing and then released her held breath. “Thank you.”

  The inspector gave a curt nod and a few seconds passed in awkward silence. She cleared her throat and gave a wry smile. “I assume you haven’t heard anything more from that brother of mine?”

  Angela shook her head and looked down the corridor for fear her longing to contact Chris showed in her eyes. “No.”

  “Good. It surprises me he’s behaved these past couple of days but maybe he understands the severity of the situation and for once he’s decided to listen to his cop sister.”

  As I should. Isn’t that what you’re saying? “Maybe.” Angela turned.

  They stared at each other. Two women supposedly on the same team, yet Angela had never felt so disconnected from someone. She’d desperately clung to the hope that Inspector Garrett would believe her, would help her...worse, would find Robert and get him locked up. She’d been a fool to believe in anyone but herself. Well, the foolishness stopped there.

  “I’ve asked my sister to come and stay for a while.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  Angela stared. “No, but she’s pretty insistent and I’m all alone so all I can do is hope and pray nothing happens to either of us.”

  “I don’t want you doing anything rash. Anything that will do more harm than good.”

  “I won’t.”

  Another moment stretched before DI Garrett gave a curt nod. “Then I’ll say good night. Officer Sheldon should be waiting for you at reception to take you home. Would you at least consider her staying with you overnight until your sister arrives?”

  Angela shook her head. “I want to be alone.” She forced a strained smile and hoped the tremble in her bottom lip wasn’t visible. “I need to be alone.”

  “Angela, I’m not happy—”

  “Inspector, please. This is what I want.”

  A moment passed before DI Garrett held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll make sure Officer Sheldon knows she is to see you safely to your door and then return to the station. Please make sure every window and door is locked tight before she leaves, okay?”

  Angela nodded. “I will.”

  “Then I’ll say good night.”

  They shook hands and regret crawled deep inside Angela’s heart and lingered there, heavy and unwelcome. After a moment, she slowly pulled her hand from the inspector’s and walked away. She liked Chris’s sister, saw the kindness in her eyes and the determination
in her stature, but she wasn’t doing what Angela needed her to do.

  Catch the man who wanted her dead.

  It seemed only she herself could do that.

  Angela pulled back her shoulders and made her way through the station and out the front door, steely determination simmering like smoldering fire in her stomach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHRIS WALKED INTO the bar and surreptitiously glanced around him. At nine on a Monday night, the place was fairly quiet. A couple of guys shot a game of pool in the far corner and the plasma TV above the bar aired a football game. He approached the bar through the semidarkness, pleased that the bartender from a couple of nights ago was working solo.

  Taking a deep breath, Chris slid onto a stool and waited.

  The bartender wiped down the bar without looking up. “What can I get you?”

  “A copy of a videotape would be nice.”

  The bartender’s head shot up. “What?”

  Chris smiled. “Remember me?” He held out his hand. “Chris Forrester. I was in the other night, drowning my sorrows. Sitting on this exact same stool, in fact.”

  The bartender slowly put his hand around Chris’s. “Right. The guy who convinced me to call the cops about that Masters bloke.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you want a videotape?” The bartender turned and pulled a beer from the fridge behind. “Budweiser, right?”

  Chris nodded. “Right.”

  He snapped off the top and put it on the bar. “I’m guessing the videotape in question will be the same one the cops took away from here this afternoon.”

  Of course they did. “Ah.”

  The bartender crossed his arms. “Okay. Level with me. Have you got some sort of personal interest in this guy? Do you know him or something?”

  “Not yet.” Chris took a slug of his beer. “But I’m thinking our paths are going to cross not too long from now.”

  “So it’s the ex-wife you know, then.” The bartender shook his head. “You’re heading for a whole lot of trouble from where I’m standing. The cops are all over the guy, yet it seems to me they’ve got nothing on him.”

  Chris stared. “Yeah. Well, like you said, I know his ex-wife, and you can’t help who you’re falling in love with, can you?” He stopped. Falling in love with?

  The bartender smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you can.”

  He moved away and started loading empty glasses into the dishwasher beneath the bar. Chris concentrated on shoving his growing panic into submission. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He’d worry about his stupid heart later. Was he really falling in love?

  He took another drink. First things first. He needed to see that tape. Needed to know the identity of the guy sitting at the bar a few nights ago. Cat told him it wasn’t Masters then or at the restaurant. Chris tightened his jaw. She wouldn’t tell him the guy’s name, though. She was probably with Angela right now telling her the same damn something and nothing. He stared blindly ahead. He could already see the disappointment flashing across Angela’s eyes. Already guess how another false start would chip away at the confidence she’d worked on for three long years.

  This would make her angry. Make her take matters into her own hands. He was learning, and learning fast. She’d gone through too much to let Masters come in and take it away from her. He had to do something before Angela did.

  He had to track this guy down, whoever he was, and make sure he wasn’t Masters. He wouldn’t rest easy until he knew for certain.

  “Hey.”

  The bartender turned, raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Do you have a copy?”

  “Of the tape? No.”

  The bartender shut the dishwasher and stood up in front of Chris. He leaned an elbow on the bar, closing the space between them. “I don’t have a copy of that tape, but I do have another one with him on it.” He winked.

  Chris grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

  The bartender smiled. “He hurt her bad, right?”

  Chris nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you and her got a thing going on? A good thing?”

  “Real good.” Chris’s heart picked up speed.

  “And he’s getting in the way of that?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  The bartender frowned. “You don’t know? Well, he is or he isn’t. Which is it?”

  “That guy, the one on the tape, I’ve seen him before. Masters’s ex-wife and I were having dinner the other night and he was there. At the restaurant. She looked up and saw him standing by the door. He smiled at her and made sure she saw him before disappearing outside.”

  “Then what?”

  “We went after him but he was gone, leaving her ready to bolt anywhere and everywhere because she thought he was Masters.” He met the bartender’s eyes. “She’s got no reservations with going after him directly...and that’s what scares me more than anything.”

  “Hmm, I’ve got me one of them.”

  Chris frowned. “One of what?”

  “A woman with more guts than sense.” He winked and straightened. “Follow me.” He walked to the end of the bar and lifted the panel, gesturing Chris behind the bar.

  Ignoring the weight of people’s stares at his back, Chris followed the bartender through a door and into an office. A pretty blonde in her mid-thirties sat in front of a computer typing at such a rate her fingers blurred.

  The bartender cleared his throat. “Need you to go and tend the bar for a few minutes, sweetheart. Gonna help my friend here out with something.”

  Her face broke into a wide smile. “Sure. It’s all yours.”

  Chris smiled at the soft gooey-eyed look she gave his new friend as she passed the bartender, before offering Chris a friendly smile and disappearing out to the bar. “Wow, someone’s got a fan.”

  The bartender laughed. “That’s the love of my life. Been together twelve years. Two beautiful kids and she works like a demon to help me keep this place afloat. That’s the one I was talking about.” He sat down in the swivel chair in front of the computer.

  Chris’s smile stretched to a grin. “The more guts than sense?”

  “Yep, but I’m kind of hoping you’ve got the same thing going with this lady. If you have, I’m not willing to stand by and let some son of a bitch from the past swoop in and hurt her.” He met Chris’s gaze. “Anyone touch that woman out there, I’d see them six feet under before I rested easy.”

  Chris nodded. “Then we understand each other perfectly.”

  The bartender grinned. “Pull up a chair, my man. Let’s see if we can put our heads together and find out just who this guy is. You said he smiled at your girlfriend at the restaurant? Like he knew her?”

  Girlfriend. I wish. Chris cleared his throat and pulled over a wheeled chair from behind him. He sat down and watched the monitor as the bartender ran his fingers over the keyboard. “Yeah, which is exactly why I’ve got a feeling this guy knows Masters. In fact, I think the bastard’s working for him.”

  The bartender turned and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  Chris drew in a breath. “I think that’s how Masters is fooling the cops and how he’s messing with Angela’s head. He can’t be in two places at once, can he? I reckon the guy in your bar, sitting right in front of the camera, and the guy at the restaurant are the same man, dressed and looking just enough like Masters to make Angela doubt her own head. This guy wanted to be seen.”

  “Bastard.” The bartender turned back to the screen. “Then it’s my absolute pleasure to show you this.”

  He inserted a tape into the machine and the monitor flickered before clearing. Chris narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. “Which one did you think was him?”

  “There.” He pointed at a guy who res
embled Masters enough for Chris to lean closer still. “Damn, no wonder she thought it was him at the restaurant.”

  “So, what will you do next? How are you going to find him?”

  Chris met his eyes and smiled. “I’ve already started the ball rolling on that particular problem.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think it’s likely this guy will show at the bar again sometime soon?”

  The bartender narrowed his gaze. “There’s a good chance if he’s new around town...or has something planned and wants to get to know the people in the area. Or make himself part of the landscape, so to speak.”

  “That’s what I thought. Are you willing to do a little digging for me?”

  The bartender smiled. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  IT WAS LATE by the time Angela had said goodbye to Officer Sheldon, showered, gotten into her pajamas and slipped under the bedcovers. Shadows danced over the ceiling and her nerves kept her from closing her eyes. She had so much planning to do. So much to think about and get right—the first time—because there would be no second chances.

  If Robert had come to Templeton Cove, it wasn’t a possible reunion he sought. It was death. He’d told her he’d rather die than live without her. He’d told her that more times than he’d said he loved her.

  Her heart beat faster with the knowledge of the battle ahead. If DI Garrett thought she was going to sit and wait for Robert’s permission to have a life, she could think again.

  For the fiftieth time in as many minutes, Angela looked at her cell phone. She’d checked her messages when she’d gotten into bed and Chris had rung twice since she’d been at the police station. Twice he’d asked her to ring him back. Twice she’d replayed the message—and twice she’d inhaled like a lovesick teenager at the sound of his voice. If things were different, Chris would be the man through whom she might learn the liberty of trust again.

  She pressed Play on his last message again.

  “It’s me again. Listen, I’ve...um...done something that maybe I shouldn’t have. When I left like I did the other night, I had a few beers and...well, let’s just say I need to see you. It will be better if I explain it face-to-face. The trouble is, because of what I’ve done, it needs to be sooner rather than later. As in first thing tomorrow morning. I know I said I’d stay away...but I can’t. Hope to hear from you soon.”