Alias

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “You mean nothing expensive, loud and gaudy?”

  The area was well-lit with strings of lights and every stand, ride or entertainment such as the house of mirrors had flashing lights and some roadie hawking for customers.

  He smiled at her. “Yes. You’re not having a good time?”

  “As a matter-of-fact, I am.” She popped a piece of sugary funnel cake in her mouth.

  That smile grew bigger, showing perfect white teeth. He’d been polite, friendly, not touching her, and yet lavishing attention on Charlie. The way to a woman’s heart is through her child? If it was, Jack beat him to the punch, she thought, then frowned at the thought. Had she been comparing the two men all evening?

  Kel played with Charlie, accommodated him. Jack listened and talked at his level, as if everything her son said was important. Darcy didn’t want Charlie to get attached to any man, to spare his feelings should they be forced to disappear again, but she also understood and accepted that her son had no man in his life to emulate, so he connected easily with Jack. And now, with Kel.

  “I’ve been talking about myself all evening, Piper.”

  “And it’s been interesting. Some of the things you’ve done to get a photo would be considered crazy.”

  “I’d rather think of it as doing the things I want, but with a camera in my hands.” His gaze moved over her face. “I’d love to shoot you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Really? You’re very pretty. Damn sexy I might add.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Thank you, but I don’t photograph well and I’d rather it not be blatantly obvious to anyone else.” The truth was, Darcy hadn’t had her picture taken in years except for necessary IDs, and those were false. It was too dangerous to let a stranger who published his work in national magazines take photos of her.

  When they arrived at the longed-for Ferris wheel, Charlie nearly toppled back as he leaned to look up.

  Kel swung him down. “Are you sure, lad?”

  Charlie nodded vigorously, hopping from foot to foot.

  Kel looked at her, blandly. “I do believe he’s rather excited.”

  “He leans toward you if he decides to replay the hot dogs and cotton candy you just fed him.”

  Kel laughed, offered the attendant the tickets, and in a minute or two they were riding high above the park.

  Darcy thought she’d be sick as the seat swung back and forth. They dangled in a box a hundred feet above the crowd and Darcy felt her world tilt. Good God.

  She was up here with her baby and a man she knew only by his name! The risks hit her hard, and like the string she was trying to cut with Maurice, once it was severed, what then? Would she fall into the life she wanted or be disappointed?

  What changes would her life take? She looked down and her stomach rolled. She’d been alone for so long, on the edge of life, a fake one, and she desperately wanted a clean slate. So she could be who she really was without fear. What would that be like? To never worry. Heaven, she thought. Victory.

  She glanced at her son. Charlie’s eyes were as big as saucers, his attention shooting all over the park as he pointed out rides and vendors’ stands. But when he started wiggling in the seat, both she and Kel put their arm across Charlie’s front.

  Darcy swore Kel won her over right then.

  “Settle down, honey,” she said as the ride took its last turn, thank God. And here she had worried about Charlie retching up the junk food?

  “Can we go again? Please, please,” Charlie begged, looking between the adults. Covertly, she rolled her eyes, hoping Kel noticed she was on the verge of losing her dinner.

  “I’ll tell you what, Charles,” Kel said with English dignity. “We’ll have us a bit of a snack, then take one more turn around the grounds.”

  “You mean we have to leave?” That pout was too cute to resist.

  “It’s nearly nine, lad,” he said kindly, glancing briefly at Darcy. “But we can’t leave before we try our hand at the duck hunt.”

  Charlie’s face lit up at the prospect of firing a water pistol at plastic ducks. Kel hoisted Charlie up on his shoulders again.

  Darcy whispered, “Thanks. But tell the truth, you just want to play.”

  “Oh, yes.” He hurried off, Charlie bouncing like a rag doll, and Darcy kept up, not about to let her boy out of her sight. While Charlie was satisfied with a couple games, Kel wasn’t, and dragged them all over the place, slapping down a dollar for the chance at a stuffed pink panther.

  “One must have at least a gaudy reminder.”

  “I think you have more than your share.” He’d won a cheap kids’ backpack, which was stuffed with trinkets and toys.

  “But Charlie likes them, right?” He looked down at the boy.

  But Charlie was gone.

  Darcy’s heart slammed to a stop. Frantically, she looked around, then rushed into the crowd, panic slicing her as she dashed from spot to spot, calling his name. Kel went in the other direction, crouching low, and hollering for the boy.

  Darcy’s eyes burned, her terror scrambling her brain, images of Charlie kidnapped or hurt breaking down her common sense. She’d taught him well, she thought, to yell, to scream for help, but what if he couldn’t, what if—she heard her name, and turned sharply. She expected Kel.

  She got Jack.

  With Charlie in his arms.

  She ran, grabbing Charlie from him and hugging him tightly. “Oh baby, oh honey.”

  “I fell down, Mama. I’m sorry.”

  “I know, honey, I know.” Thank God. Oh, thank God.

  “He saw me and was running when someone knocked him over. I found him under a vendor’s cart, trying not to get trampled,” Jack said.

  She forced back her tears, leaning to look at Charlie. She kissed his face, and Charlie caught hers between his tiny hands and said calmly, “Don’t cry, Mama. I didn’t get hurt.”

  Darcy choked on her relief. “I’m so glad, honey, but don’t leave my side, ever, not for a second. Ever.”

  His lower lip curled down and Charlie glanced at Jack.

  “Your mother’s right, sport.”

  She hugged him again, looking over his shoulder at Jack and tearily whispered, “Thank you so much.”

  Jack moved closer, running his hand over Charlie’s hair. “Are you here alone with him?”

  “No, actually, she’s with me.” Kel stopped by her side, putting his arm around her and squeezing and looking deep into her eyes. “I can’t imagine the panic you just felt, but I saw it.” He had such a sad look just then, Darcy was taken aback.

  Her gaze moved to Jack’s. Oh, dear. If that glare was armed, it could kill. “Jack, this is Kel Adams.”

  Jack looked hard enough at Kel that he stepped away from her, lowered his arm. He didn’t offer a handshake, either.

  “I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day, wouldn’t you say?” Kel said into the silence.

  Darcy nodded. Kel went back for the bag of prizes, insisting it would just end the evening on a sour note without them.

  Jack just stood there, staring after the man.

  “That was rude, Jack.”

  His gaze snapped back to her. “Who is this guy?”

  “A client, and a photographer.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing, Jack. I just met him.”

  “And you’re dating him? With Charlie?”

  Why did that sound so bad? Was it because of all the times he’d asked her out and she’d refused? Yet she let him into her home, let him know things about her most people never did.

  “It’s just a night out, nothing more.” She frowned harder. “You’re jealous.” It almost choked her.

  He looked away, then back at her, not admitting a thing. Did she want him to? A little voice in her head said, yes, be jealous, be my champion, take some of these burdens. But she couldn’t and knew she could handle them herself. She was just so tired of doing it all alone.
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  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “This isn’t a place I’d expect you to be.”

  “It’s not, without good reason.” His gaze landed pointedly on Charlie, and he moved in, moved close. Darcy felt swept away by his nearness. There was so much strength there, she thought. So much quiet nobility. Didn’t anyone else see it?

  Then he said, “I volunteered to help the police keep order.”

  Darcy felt an instant of panic, then settled. Jack was tightly linked to the police. He hunted their bail jumpers for the court, but in the same instance that brought concern that he’d reveal something about her, she dismissed it. Jack didn’t tell anyone anything about himself; he wouldn’t betray her. Would he?

  He must have noticed her alarm because he laid a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, Piper?”

  “Nothing,” she said, hugging her son.

  His look went deeper. “There’ll come a day when you’ll have to trust me, and stop running from it.”

  Just then Kel walked up with the pack. Darcy barely glanced his way, then looked back at Jack. He was already melting into the crowd.

  For a second, she wanted to go after him, but didn’t know what she’d say. Or why. Why did the man always leave her so confused? Right now she would trade all her secrets to just share one honest moment with him.

  Too dangerous, she thought, and she left with Kel.

  Charlie was sound asleep in the back seat before they left the parking lot. They didn’t say much as he drove toward her place. She’d considered having him drop her off at the shop where he’d picked them up, so he wouldn’t know where she lived, but he could ask a couple questions and learn that too easily. Short of living in a cave in the hills, Darcy could only hide so deep.

  Darcy glanced back at her son slumped in his car seat. His face was still sticky, his lips purple from the last snow cone. His head was squashing a cheap Velveteen rabbit. “I was so scared,” she blurted. “He’s everything to me.”

  He patted her hand. “I know, Piper, I know.” After a moment he asked, “So do I have to get my hair cut so you’ll go out with me again?”

  “No. But a pedicure would hedge your bet,” she said, trying to lighten her own mood.

  He frowned. “Very unmanly. And I wouldn’t want to spoil my image with the public display of my ugly feet.”

  Darcy was still laughing when they reached her house. Leaving Kel on the porch, she slipped inside to put Charlie in his bed. When she came out, Kel was standing in the foyer. She frowned at him, and he immediately stepped back out of the house to the porch.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thank you.” Darcy pulled the door closed behind her, leaning back against the frame. She wasn’t inviting him in. It might be rude, but her house was her sanctuary from her business, her fears. Her thoughts jumped to Jack, the deadly look he’d given Kel, the questions.

  The man was too hard to figure out.

  “I had a nice time,” she said.

  “So did I. Maybe next time we can go out alone?”

  “Gee, and here I thought it was Charlie you were dating tonight?”

  He looked endearingly bashful just then. “Bit overexcited, was I?”

  “It was cute.”

  “Ah, now I’m making points.”

  “You’re keeping a score?”

  “If one doesn’t know the level he wishes to reach, then one can’t strive to achieve it.”

  Darcy laughed. Very Winston Churchill, she thought. “And what is it that you wanted to achieve?”

  “To get to know you.” He moved closer, crowding her a little. “And to taste that mouth.”

  “You promised we’d keep it light, remember?”

  “I promise.” Still, he grinned.

  Then he slid his arm around her waist and tugged her gently against his length as he tipped his head.

  “Kel?”

  “Yes?”

  Darcy felt her insides go soft and liquid at the tender look in his eyes. “This is not light.”

  “No, this is just a kiss.”

  His mouth lay over hers, soft and molding. Noting aggressive, but simply an…introduction. It was gloriously patient and romantic. Nothing like the raw, consuming energy she’d shared just inches from Jack.

  At the thought of the bounty hunter, Darcy broke the kiss and Kel stepped back as if it had been his choice, not hers.

  He blew out a breath, looking her over. “’Night.” He spun away, and trotted down the steps.

  Darcy went inside and leaned back against the closed door, wondering what kind of woman she was if she could have thoughts of Jack Turner while she was kissing another man on the front porch.

  She wasn’t a hypocrite.

  But right now, she felt as if she were betraying some part of herself.

  By the next evening, her brain was fried and she was burning a candle at both ends and wishing she had two more to light. Between searching for information on Porche and something on surrogates, she was exhausted.

  Radio ads she couldn’t track; TV was pointless since surrogates were not the norm then. Her only option was print media. She was about to call it quits for the night when she pulled up a library archive of a newspaper in west Arizona, close enough to Athena Academy to alert her. The Mesa Centennial. Never heard of the paper, but that didn’t mean much. She’d read twenty-year-old ads from every print media in three states. The ad read simply. Surrogate mother wanted. 50K, expenses paid. Must sign contract. There was a number and she tried it. No such listing, a recording said.

  The name reference to the ad was not listed.

  Probably paid for in cash and mailed. Anonymous.

  She decided to place her own in several newspapers in the surrounding area, asking for information on surrogates. Hers read just as simply, specifying dates, yet offered a money reward up-front. She’d know what to ask if anyone answered just to make a buck off it.

  That done, she sent an e-mail to the Cassandras, giving them a progress report, then focused on Porche.

  By now, Darcy knew the woman’s statistics inside out. She’d even found a copy of her yearbook, which had her signature, Patty Fogerty, scanned under her picture.

  Darcy needed an expert to compare all the signatures that were signed at different times, and when she mention it to Megan, her pal said she took a yoga class with a woman who analyzed handwriting. At first Darcy had thought it was like palm reading till Megan insisted her friend worked for the police department.

  Which made her very credible.

  Megan had begged a favor from Loni Marks and Darcy would meet with the woman as soon as she had more tangible evidence for her to do a comparison. Darcy needed to compare the past and most recent signatures. The dates were what really mattered to Darcy. Porche Fairchild had signed a document authorizing the loan of funding for a production. That’s what she had found in Maurice’s office. Although the film had gone into production three weeks after Porche was last seen, her signature had been required before that, when the money was transferred. The day after Maurice had come home hugging his briefcase. The signatures should all match, and Darcy was relying a lot on a hunch that they wouldn’t.

  If they did match, then she was out of luck. It meant Porche had been alive when the documents were signed. Though Darcy didn’t want anyone to be dead, non-matching signatures would tell her that Maurice forged the papers. That would turn suspicion on someone at the bank where the draft was issued. Thirty-five million was a big chunk of change to let go without a lot of verification. Who had Maurice forced to do that, and how?

  She tried again to reach Porche’s assistant, and after persistent calls she finally got Marianna Vasquez on the line.

  Darcy introduced herself as she had on the message she’d left, as a reporter doing a story for Money Market magazine about Ms. Fairchild and her sudden and now longtime absence from the financial world.

  “Why now? She’s been gone three years. It is because she was mentioned on the news last week?
”

  “Partly. It’s a follow-up. We did do a story three months after she left for Europe, but no one in the England, France or Germany offices had seen or heard from her.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell you. Ms Fairchild just…left the country. I mean, she didn’t even come into the office, only left a note and final instructions for closing up.”

  “And the note said?”

  “Aside from the instructions about turning off the utilities, it said that she was leaving, that the last loan was complete and that Maurice Steele had everything he needed to finalize the production money from the bank. All Porche had to do was sign the final draft. And she did.”

  Darcy’s heart dropped with her spirits. “You’re certain of it?”

  “Well I’m looking at it now. When you left a message last time, I brought the file to the office.”

  “Can you fax it to me?” Darcy switched on the fax and gave her the number. “What was her behavior before she left?” she asked when she came back on the line.

  “Agitated and angry. She didn’t get mad often, but someone was upsetting her.”

  “Do you have any idea who?”

  “No. She was working five deals at once. Always was. But that wasn’t unusual. She was a workaholic.”

  That played against Porche’s closing up shop and heading to Europe, Darcy thought. Had Maurice paid the loan back, and if so, how? Where was Porche’s share going? Tax wise, he had to put it somewhere. Probably into an account he never touched to cover his tracks.

  “My magazine’s theory is that she didn’t leave on her own power.”

  Marianna’s voice lowered. “What are you saying?”

  “Foul play.”

  Marianna’s pitch rose with her excitement. “See, the police didn’t investigate very much because she left that note saying she was leaving for Europe and put her entire business on hold. I wasn’t happy about it because I’ve got a kid and needed my job.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told the police that she wouldn’t have left like that. She lived for her work. The woman loved numbers more than anyone I know.”

  “But my records show they didn’t file a report.”

  “No, they didn’t.” Her tone slid into bitterness. “They accepted the note, and did investigate, but since her house was already listed for sale with a real-estate broker, plus her household goods and car were in storage, they figured she was doing just as she said. The police said she got on a private jet for Europe.”