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THE WRONG BROTHER
Bonnie K. Winn
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Contents:
Prologue
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24
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Prologue
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Chicago
The pain was sharp, almost unbearable in its intensity. Paul Elliott sucked in his breath. The last time he'd come anywhere near this sort of feeling, his twin brother, Matthew, had fractured his back in a skiing accident. Once, they had been close enough to read each other's thoughts, feel each other's pain.
Again Paul regretted the last-minute changes in his work schedule that had forced him to cancel his meeting with Matthew. Although they had been estranged longer than he wanted to admit, Paul had been looking forward to the trip. He'd missed his twin, the unique bond they'd shared as brothers and friends. It was time to renew their relationship, to try to put the past where it belonged, to heal the painful rift that had torn them apart.
Matthew had called to say their Piper Saratoga was in tip-top shape and then had hesitantly asked Paul to visit and meet his bride. Previously Matthew had tried to repair their break, but Paul had refused. Taking the step into marriage seemed to unleash a new determination in his twin – Matthew had again felt the need to embrace family. The irony of the reason for the contact wasn't lost on Paul, but he also knew that eventually he had to accept Matthew's overtures.
Not only did it seem forever since they'd seen each other, it also seemed forever since they'd taken to the sky to test their wings. Despite their estrangement, the brothers continued to share ownership of the Piper PA 32, a sweet plane that neither had been willing to relinquish. Although Paul wasn't one to credit symbolism, in many ways the plane was the sole thread that kept their relationship from complete dissolution. Because they both owned the plane, they couldn't walk away from each other permanently.
And although it had remained unsaid, it was time to reestablish the twin bond that had kept them close since birth. Close, that is, until that one seemingly irreparable break.
Frowning, Paul wished they hadn't also argued about money. They'd had enough damage to repair already. But his brother had never really had a head for finances, and certainly even less since his recent marriage. Matthew had bragged about his new bride, but privately Paul was concerned about the amount of money Matthew had spent since his elopement. The bills had flowed into their shared trust with alarming speed and frequency. The latest purchase was a Porsche.
Paul couldn't help wondering if Katherine was a greedy seductress who thought she'd hit the jackpot. Could that be why Matthew had continued to need so much money, to the point of asking for yet another loan from their shared interests?
Paul knew he would have to reschedule the visit since Matthew was eager for him to meet his new wife. Their conversation had been awkward, stilted. It had been too long since they'd shared a simple laugh. It had been too long for many things.
However, during their brief conversation, Matthew had told him that Katherine didn't know they were twins, didn't even know they were brothers. Matthew had confessed he hadn't wanted to admit the extent of their estrangement or his own culpability.
It occurred to Paul that there was much Matthew hadn't told him about Katherine, and clearly there was much his brother hadn't revealed to her, either. Fun-loving Matthew had a bit of a Peter Pan complex, one that tended to make him put off dealing with unpleasantness. Paul just hoped it hadn't led him to trouble.
The pain struck again, sharp and swift. In its wake he felt an amazing sense of loss, a bereft feeling he'd never before experienced. As he steeled himself against the double onslaught of feelings, his cell phone rang. Foreboding arrived at precisely the same instant.
Cautiously Paul picked up the phone. "Elliott."
He listened, his brain accepting what his gut had already acknowledged.
"I'll be on the next plane."
South Carolina Coast
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The Graveyard of the Atlantic. Aptly named, the diamond shoals of the South Carolina coast were the wicked wonder of the Eastern seaboard. Gulf currents and southbound Labrador currents collided there, making the area one of the most dangerous places in the Atlantic.
And that was where Matthew's plane had gone down, not far from where he lived.
A full-scale rescue operation began immediately. Especially when Paul pressed every contact he possessed into service. And as a CIA agent, he had a considerable number of contacts. The Coast Guard had pulled out all the stops for the search-and-rescue mission. Numerous rescue ships and divers were combing the area, putting all available high-tech equipment to efficient use.
The Barrier islands of the outer banks were beautiful but treacherous. Underwater ledges and coves provided innumerable places to catch and trap a body.
Paul couldn't bring himself to think of Matthew as a body yet. Officially his brother was listed as missing. Remembering all the scrapes the two of them had survived, Paul couldn't believe Matthew wouldn't survive this one, too. Besides, his twin had always possessed a mercurial quality, able to glide blithely over trouble and come out unscathed. Paul expected to see his brother's grinning face any moment. Full of jokes, Matthew would needle him for even worrying.
And right now Paul would give his own arms and legs to see that teasing face, that unquenchable grin. Grimly he looked out over the endless miles of water. If he didn't see Matthew alive again, he would know why. And he would start with his brother's gold-digging bride.
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Chapter 1
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Katherine paced the length of the kitchen, her gaze going again to the view of the ocean, visible through the tall wide windows. She returned again and again to this room, the warm center of the house that Elliott had kept alive with his laughter.
She only prayed his incredible spirit had kept him alive, as well. Her ribs ached from the sobs that had racked her body when the search had turned up nothing. Until that moment she was certain he would arrive home with his crooked grin and a wildly exaggerated tale of the crash and his success at cheating death.
But three days had now passed. Although the search was continuing, hope had dimmed with each passing hour, each effort that produced nothing. The divers had surfaced with a seemingly endless collection of tires, seaweed, timbers and other trash. But no sign of her husband.
"Katherine, how about some tea?" her friend Jessica asked, crossing to the stove where the kettle had been whistling for the past few minutes.
Katherine didn't take her gaze from the window as she replied distractedly, "Hmm? Tea? No thanks."
Jessica didn't remind Katherine that she had put the kettle on herself, thinking some tea would be soothing. It was clear Katherine's mind was elsewhere, as it had been ever since they'd heard the dreadful news.
Jessica prepared the tea and added a dollop of honey to the steaming brew. "I think I'll have some, if you don't mind. Why don't you join me?"
The rephrasing seemed to work. "Oh, sure," Katherine murmured, still staring through the windows. "How long do you suppose someone can stay alive in the ocean?"
Out of Katherine's line of vision, Jessica flinched, then closed her eyes briefly. "I suppose it depends. I've heard stories about people who survived for several days hanging on to nothing more than a plank."
"And some people don't last more than a few hours," Katherine replied, the tears seeping into her voice.
"You can't think that way," Jessica cautioned her. "You know what a fighter Matthew is. You can't give up on him."
Katherine reached blindly for her friend's hand. "What would I do without y
ou to see me through this?"
Jessica gave her a reassuring hug. "Let's don't ever find out, okay? You've always been there for me." Tactfully Jessica didn't remind Katherine what a great friend she'd been when Jessica had lost her own husband.
Katherine turned again to stare at the ocean. "He loves the water, you know."
"He's smart … resourceful," Jessica tried again, afraid to build up her friend's hopes too much, yet knowing she needed some bolstering to keep her from entering an abyss of grief prematurely.
"And that damn plane," Katherine continued as though Jessica hadn't spoken. "He loves that plane. The way he lavished attention on it, you'd have thought the two of them were newlyweds."
Jessica winced again. A crisis like this was difficult enough when a couple had years of strength to fall back on. But Elliott and Katherine had only been together a few short months. They were still on their honeymoon.
"You'd think the plane would be in perfect shape with all that attention," Katherine said. A hiccuping sigh punctuated the words, and Jessica suspected tears weren't far behind. Katherine spun away from the window. "Makes you wonder how it could possibly have crashed."
It was an observation Katherine had made more than once since she'd been notified. Why would a plane in perfect mechanical condition crash? Jessica tried to think of some way to divert her friend's attention. "Katherine, maybe we should go out for a walk, get some fresh air. Clear our minds."
"There's not enough fresh air in the world to clear my mind," Katherine replied, pushing back her long curling dark hair. Then she patted her friend's arm. "But I appreciate the thought. Maybe you'd like some air, though. I'll be fine."
Jessica stared helplessly at her friend. It was so like Katherine to think of others, even in a desperate situation like this. "I should go get Brian. My mother's probably had about as much of a five-year-old boy as she can stand. Why don't you come with me? We can stop and have some dinner. My treat."
"I should stay by the phone."
"You can forward it to your cell phone," Jessica reminded her.
Katherine's smile was bleak. "I know. I'd rather stay here, though. It probably sounds silly, but it's as if I need to keep my own vigil."
"A candle burning in the window?" Jessica asked gently.
Katherine nodded. "I haven't really given up on Matthew, you know, no matter what I say." She looked out again toward the ocean. "And if I'm here, then the house won't be empty when … when Matthew strolls up the path."
Jessica's heart ached for her friend. "I could ask my mother to drop Brian off here. We could order pizza—"
"No, you go on. I'm fine. I wouldn't mind some quiet time. I need to sort through my thoughts."
"I hate leaving you alone," Jessica protested.
"I'm not alone." Katherine smiled crookedly as she glanced toward the rear of the house. "You can't stay with me twenty-four hours a day, even though I appreciate it. Please, go on, pick up Brian. Give him a kiss for me."
Jessica battled tears of her own, knowing her friend's pain. She remembered her own intense feelings of loss, how hard it was to climb from that pit of pain. "Tell you what. I'll pick up Brian, then call you before we decide what to do for dinner."
"Okay. Thanks, friend." Katherine hugged her.
Jessica blinked away her terrible memories and embraced her fiercely. "Don't forget – I'm only ten minutes away."
Katherine managed a smile. "What else do you think keeps me sane?"
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The house stood on a knoll that swept upward from the beach. Past the sands, beyond the wild grass. A shell-topped road wound its way to a lush cultivated lawn. Ancient live oak trees dripping moss flanked the house, while a stalwart magnolia dominated the yard, scenting the air as it stood sentry. The house wasn't the sleek contemporary Paul had expected. Rather, a weathered Cape Cod with soft inviting lines. The shadows of approaching twilight reached over the gables, while the last struggling rays of sun reflected off the ocean.
It wasn't a menacing picture. In fact, quite the opposite – a Norman Rockwell setting that promised serenity. Grimly Paul wondered if that was the plan.
But it wasn't a plan that deterred him. He reached for the door knocker, but before he could lift it, the door was flung open.
"Elliott?" Katherine's voice was part question, part exclamation. "I saw you coming up the path…" She moved forward hesitantly, her face crumpling. Eyes, apparently swollen from weeping, widened in seeming disbelief as new tears swam in their depths. "Can it really be you?"
Paul took a deep breath, prepared to do the unthinkable. "It's me." Then he managed a grin.
But his smile faltered when Katherine flung herself into his arms. Then her hands were running over his shoulders, down his arms, reaching for his chest. As she did, her body trembled. It was as though she checked both for injuries and to make sure she wasn't imagining him.
"Are you really okay?" Her voice caught. "Are you really real? I've been hoping so hard you'd come back that I'm afraid I've conjured you up. I want so much to believe you're here but … I'm afraid I'm dreaming. I've prayed, I've hoped…"
Paul felt her shudder and stepped further into his role, forcing himself to ignore the misgivings her seemingly genuine distress was causing. "I'm real."
Katherine buried her face against his chest. "I was so afraid you weren't coming back. I know you always come out on top, but this time…" She held him even closer. "I can't believe how lucky I am."
Paul mimicked his brother's style. "Hey, babe, I'm a survivor."
Slowly Katherine pulled back. Again he forced himself to stand still as she ran her hand over his hair, then gently cupped his jaw. "Your hair's shorter," she murmured, her words coated, it seemed, with shaky disbelief. "The mustache is gone, and your clothes…"
Paul blinked. Details he hadn't thought of. Details that hadn't seemed important in the face of Matthew's disappearance … possibly his death. He swallowed the sharp pain of that last thought, forcing himself to adopt his brother's more casual demeanor. "They wanted to clean me up in the hospital."
"Hospital?" she asked. Paul wondered if the fear threaded through her voice could be real. It quivered as she clutched his arms, her face registering worry.
"Sure." He forced another grin, knowing Matthew would be wearing one, praying that somewhere he still was. "They don't just pull you out of the water and send you straight home. I had a concussion. Didn't the nurse who phoned tell you?"
"No one called," she replied, her hands stroking him tentatively, before again burying her head against his chest. "I was by the phone day and night, hoping to hear from you – or about you."
Paul purposely hadn't let one of the operatives phone with the news he had been "found." He wanted to view firsthand the expression on her face, her reaction when she saw him. Remembering Matthew's easygoing body language, he made his shrug deliberately casual. "Someone was supposed to call you."
"It doesn't matter," she murmured, as her gaze continued skimming over him. "Nothing else matters except that you're safe. I kept thinking that you might not be coming home. Every day – every hour – was agony. I kept picturing so many horrible things without you here to tell me to be brave … to always think positively. I tried, I really did, but I knew we needed a miracle for you to survive." Her voice sounded choked with feeling. "And we got the miracle."
He squirmed beneath Katherine's intense words. If her act was genuine, his behavior was unbearably callous. "I'm sorry you were so worried."
"Worried?" she cried. "Oh, God. I never knew before how little that word conveys. Not when it means your whole life can change. Or end. Each second that passes is an eternity. But I'd go through it again in an instant, knowing you're safe."
Once again Paul was nonplussed at her admission. He needed to learn the truth, but he didn't want to hurt this woman if she wasn't involved in sabotaging Matthew's plane.
"How long were you in the hospital?" she asked. "Or were you in the water f
or a long time?"
"I'm not really sure," Paul improvised. He couldn't tell her that he hadn't been able to give up on Matthew, that even though it wasn't possible, he had wanted to personally search every inch of the crash site. "With the disorientation from the head injury it took me a while to get help."
Katherine lifted a hand to touch his head again, then stilled the movement as though afraid to hurt him. Then, if possible, even more concern suffused her face. "Head injury? You said a concussion, didn't you? How bad?"
"Just enough to put me out for a few days," Paul replied, hoping the explanation would satisfy her. "At least that's what the hospital told me."
He wondered at the loving touch when she began to stroke his cheek. Again she seemed to be seeking reassurance that he had returned. "You're certain there's nothing else, something you're not telling me? You're not just trying to be brave?"
"I'm no hero," Paul replied, surprised by her reaction, the trembling of her slight body, the dazzled shock in her wide eyes, the remnants of tears that had splashed her ivory cheeks. His conscience shifted into overdrive. If he was wrong about her…
"You're my hero," she responded softly. Her eyelids flickered shut briefly. "My prayers have been answered. God watched out for you and gave us a miracle. You're home. You're really home." Her eyes opened and she gazed at him. "I don't know why we're so blessed. When I think of Jessica's husband…" The words sputtered out into a muffled sob. "I don't know why some are spared when others aren't, but I'm so grateful. So very grateful."
Paul stared down at this stranger's face. Could she be sincere? Or was she an accomplished actress who had plotted to kill her husband for money? One who even now wondered how he could be alive?
As a CIA agent, however, Paul had learned some acting skills of his own: Deliberately he made his grin a crooked replica of his brother's. "You're right. I am lucky." Ignoring the irony in his words, he pulled her close so that she couldn't read the grim message in his eyes or the anguish that lurked there. "And now that I'm home I'll do the worrying."
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