by Diane Burke
“Yes.” She squirmed in her seat and didn’t make eye contact with him. “At first, they weren’t much help. It’s not against the law for an adult to decide to leave. When I got this letter, I tried to convince them that he was in danger and we needed to find him.”
“And?”
“They still didn’t seem to take it very seriously. They wrote up a missing person’s report. One of the officers was really nice. He promised me he’d look into it and he did.” Her eyes cut to his. “That’s how I found out my identification papers are phony. So are my dad’s. They weren’t able to find anything after that. Truthfully, I think they just stopped trying.”
He lowered his pen and sat back. Something wasn’t right here. She was holding something back. He sensed it and wondered why.
“Sophie…” Cain ran his hand through his thick brown hair and tried to choose his words so as not to cause her any more pain. “I understand this whole situation has been very difficult for you.”
“Difficult? It’s been a living nightmare. Every memory I ever had, every single thing I thought I knew about myself and my dad is now nothing more than questions. I need to know what’s going on.”
“You’re going to need more help than I can give. I’m a small-town investigator. My biggest cases are insurance fraud, cheating spouses and missing pets. You should contract a larger investigation firm in the city. They’d have more resources than me.”
Sophie fought back tears. “What big city would you recommend, Cain? I can’t remember ever setting foot in a city, any city, until two weeks ago. And since we’ve moved from one small town to another for the past twenty-two years, what city or town do you suggest I call home?” She tapped her index finger on the file folder lying on his desk. “Besides, this report was done by big-city cops. Your old stomping ground, as a matter of fact. The Charlottesville police discovered the documents I had were fake.”
The quiet desperation underlying her words filled him with empathy. Cain offered a silent prayer for wisdom on how he could help this woman.
“Do you have anything else that might indicate your father’s true identity? Maybe an entry in a family Bible or a name on the back of a photograph? Anything at all to give me a place to start?”
She shook her head.
Thoughts ricocheted like pinballs through his mind. “What about the cottage?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “You said it had been in your family for years. There must be legal documents to prove it. A real estate title, for one.”
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, we’ve owned it for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if there are any papers to prove it. I just figured possession is nine tenths of the law.” She held up an object in her hand. “I have the key.”
A smile danced across her lips and Cain’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, a vulnerability hidden beneath resilience, a shyness buried beneath determination, that drew him to her.
He’d promised himself never again—never get emotionally involved with a woman on one of his cases. He’d learned his lesson the hard way and vowed never to repeat it. This unexpected empathy he felt was unsettling.
She needed his help. And he needed a new client. So he’d help her, despite the fact that fake documents would make it an uphill battle all the way. He’d just have to make sure this time that he used his head, kept things strictly professional between them. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to have any feelings for her…not even empathy. He had no intention of walking down that treacherous path a second time.
Cain crossed around the desk, plopped in the leather chair beside her and clasped his hands between his knees. “I know how hard this must be on you,” he said, leaning forward and locking his gaze with hers. “And I’ll do what I can to help. But I’ve got to be honest here. You’re probably throwing your money away. Fake identities usually lead to dead ends.”
She stood and offered him her hand. “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.”
He clasped her hand in his. He couldn’t bear the look of defeat in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He stood. “Leave me your address. I’ll see if I can locate a real estate title on the property. And I’ll include it in the consultation fee you just paid so it won’t cost you any more money. Meanwhile, I want you to go home and look through anything and everything you own for a name, an address, a picture. Anything you think might give me a place to start looking. You find something and we’ll talk again.”
“Thanks.” She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper she pulled from her tote bag and handed it to him.
“Wait a minute,” he called as she crossed the room.
Sophie turned and paused in the doorway.
“At least let me take you to Holly’s for a welcome-to-Promise lunch.”
Yeah, that’s professional. That’s keeping your distance. Invite the client to lunch because she looks at you with lost puppy dog eyes. Are you crazy?
“Taking a client to lunch counts as a business deduction on my taxes. So, believe it or not, you’ll actually be helping me out.” The words tumbled from his mouth even though his brain kept screaming, Idiot! Let somebody else feel sorry for her.
“Just let me know what day is good for you,” he continued. “My sister makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”
Sophie smiled and when she did it lit up the room. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”
Cain crossed to the window and watched as Sophie exited the building. She stopped to help elderly Mrs. Gleason, whose grocery bag had split open. Sophie was chasing oranges along the sidewalk when a movement out of the corner of Cain’s eye caught his attention. A man stood in the shadows of the alley a block up the street. From this distance, Cain could only see the man’s silhouette and the tip of a lit cigarette but something about his stealth caught and held his attention. As soon as the man spotted Sophie, he threw his cigarette to the ground and hopped into a car parked beside him.
Cain glanced back to Sophie. Her hair blew across her mouth and she laughingly wiped it away as she handed the last of the runaway oranges to Mrs. Gleason. With a smile and a wave, Sophie turned to step into the street.
The car barreled out of the alley.
“Sophie!” Cain banged on the glass to get her attention but she was already stepping into the street.
The car accelerated.
Lord, help me, please.
Cain raced for the door.
TWO
A freight train slammed into Sophie’s back. At least it felt like it, as an unexpected force knocked her off her feet and propelled her forward into midair. As she stretched out her hands to break her fall, she felt two arms wrap around her middle, spin her around, and then someone slid beneath her, cushioning her slide across the asphalt.
When the momentum stopped, Sophie found herself staring up at the clouds and wondering what had just happened. Before she could move a muscle, the ground beneath her shifted, someone clasped her waist, lifted her and then gently lowered her so that she was lying on the street.
“Sophie, don’t move. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”
She shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and tried to identify the hulking form leaning over her.
“Cain?” She shifted her weight and a groan escaped her lips when she tried to sit up.
A crowd began gathering around them.
“Cain, are you okay?” A man, older but strikingly similar in appearance to Cain, placed a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “I called it in. Help should be here in a minute.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mrs. Gleason, the woman Sophie had helped with her groceries, stood beside them wringing her hands and saying, “I can’t believe it. I saw the whole thing. That car missed you by inches. You could have been killed.”
“Car?” Sophie tried again to sit up.
“No. Don’t move until the ambulance gets here,” Cain said.
“Ambulance?” She gla
nced at the faces looming over her and then pushed Cain’s hand away and sat up. “No. Please. I don’t need an ambulance.”
When he saw she was determined to stand, he helped her to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked.
“A black car tried to run you down, that’s what happened.” The elderly woman raised her voice so the bystanders could hear. “This young man ran out of that building and pushed you out of the way. I saw the whole thing.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Sophie’s mouth as the older woman recounted the incident—and Sophie was sure Mrs. Gleason would tell it again and again before the day was through.
Sophie’s legs trembled, rebelling at the idea of supporting her weight, and she leaned heavily against Cain as they made their way through the crowd to the curb.
“A car tried to run me down?” she asked, looking up at Cain. “What car?”
“It was a big, black car.” Mrs. Gleason patted Sophie’s arm as she accompanied them to the sidewalk. “The driver came shooting out of the alley by the pharmacy. He must have lost control or something because he headed right for you.” She picked up her grocery bags from the sidewalk. “The whole thing scared five years off this old ticker of mine.”
Sophie’s head pounded and her right forearm burned from road rash. Otherwise, she hadn’t sustained any injuries. With effort, she smiled at the older woman. “I’m so sorry I scared you. But I’m fine. Really.”
The air hummed with spectator whispers. An ambulance and a police car, approaching from opposite directions, slid up to the curb.
Cain’s breath fanned the back of Sophie’s neck and his arm cradled her shoulders, lending his support as they stood together on the sidewalk. The sheriff reached them first.
Sheriff Dalton nodded at Cain and doffed his hat at Sophie. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?”
“I can tell you, Sheriff. I saw the whole thing.” Mrs. Gleason waved her hand excitedly.
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Gleason,” the sheriff replied, gently steering the woman and her bag of groceries down the street. “Why don’t you go over to the office and be the first one to tell Sally all about it. I’ll be over shortly and take your formal statement.”
Mrs. Gleason didn’t have to be asked twice. Shoulders tossed back and strutting with an air of self-importance, she hurried down the street.
The paramedics approached and made a cursory exam of both Cain and Sophie.
“We’re fine,” Cain said. “A few bumps and skin tears but nothing some peroxide and a bandage or two won’t cure.”
“Okay,” said Mr. Garrison. “Let’s get you both inside and I’ll have the two of you fixed up in no time.”
Thanking the paramedics before dismissing them, Cain and Sophie followed Mr. Garrison inside Cain’s office. Sheriff Dalton trailed close behind. Sophie allowed herself to wallow in the warmth of Cain’s body as he ushered her inside the building. She couldn’t be sure if it was the adrenaline rush from the near hit-and-run or the unexpected nearness of Cain Garrison that caused her stomach to flip-flop and her pulse to race.
Within seconds she was seated in the same leather chair she had left only minutes before.
Cain handed her a bottle of water.
She took a long gulp and welcomed the cold liquid as it slid down her dry throat.
Cain pulled a chair over to face her and leaned his forearms on his thighs. His worried expression creased deep lines near his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.
Mr. Garrison opened a first aid kit and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, tape, gauze and a few smaller bandages.
Sheriff Dalton flipped his notepad open. “So which one of you is gonna tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened,” Sophie answered honestly. “One minute I was crossing the street and the next I was flying through the air.”
Cain laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see how you’d think that.” He turned his attention to the sheriff. “I was looking out my office window when I saw a black sedan shoot out of the alley and head right for Sophie…er, Miss Clarkston. I banged on the window to warn her but when I realized she hadn’t heard, I ran outside and pushed her out of the way.”
Sheriff Dalton eyed Sophie. “Do you know any reason why someone would be trying to run you down?”
Sophie shook her head.
“What kind of car was it?” the sheriff asked.
“Black sedan. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a good enough look to be able to tell you anything else,” Cain said.
“And you just happened to be looking out your window when you saw all this going down?” The sheriff pushed his hat back on his head, his expression skeptical.
“Miss Clarkston had just left my office.”
Sheriff Dalton looked at Sophie, shot a glance at Cain and grinned as though all of a sudden the reason Cain had been staring out the window at Sophie was pretty evident.
“Is Miss Clarkston a client?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff pursed his lips. “Whatever investigating you’re having done, Ms. Clarkston, do you think it could make someone mad enough to try and run you over with their car?”
Sophie shrugged. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt me, Sheriff, for any reason.”
Mr. Garrison dressed Sophie’s arm and then turned his attention to his son’s skin tears.
Sheriff Dalton slipped his notepad back into his shirt pocket. “Well, there’s not much to go on. But I’ll ask around. Maybe somebody saw the make and model or got some of the license plate numbers.” He crossed the room. “If either of you think of anything that might be helpful, you know where to get in touch with me.”
As the sheriff slipped out the door, he was almost knocked over by a person trying to shove him aside.
“Cain!” The woman burst into the room. “I just heard. Are you okay? I can’t believe you jumped in front of a car. Are you crazy?”
She ran her hands over Cain’s shoulders and down his arms, obviously checking for injuries. Her fingers cradled his chin and she grimaced at the scrape across his cheek. Her touch seemed possessive, familiar.
His wife? Girlfriend?
The tiniest twinge of jealousy stabbed at Sophie and her eyes widened in surprise.
Jealous? Over a man she’d just met? Couldn’t be.
No, the twinges of envy nagging at her were because he had someone to care about him and she didn’t.
She loved her father, but their nomadic lifestyle had robbed her of the opportunity to make any long, lasting friendships or date anyone more than once or twice. It had been a very lonely existence. And now that her father had vanished she found herself facing what she feared the most—being totally alone in the world.
“Were you hurt?” The woman tilted Cain’s face up. “You’re going to have a shiner, all right. You idiot. You could have been killed.”
“That’s enough, Holly,” Mr. Garrison said. “Cain’s been through enough today.”
Sophie quietly studied the woman. She wore blue jeans and a pink T-shirt. Her hair circled her face in tight brown curls. She was a pretty girl and appeared to be about Sophie’s age.
Cain removed the woman’s hands from his face and stood up. He towered about six inches over her. “I’m fine, Holly. Calm down. How did you find out so fast, anyway?”
“Mrs. Gleason told Mrs. Summit who told Mac who came in the diner and told me.”
Cain shook his head from side to side. “Small towns,” he muttered under his breath.
Sophie shifted in her seat. The movement caught the woman’s attention. “Who’s this?” she asked, directing her question to Cain but not taking her eyes off Sophie.
“Hi. I’m Sophie. I’d offer to shake your hand but mine is covered with antibiotic cream.” Sophie held her hand up.
“This is our newest client,” Cain said. He turned his head and grinned at Sophie. “This is my sister, Holly.” He inclined his head toward the licenses hanging
on the office wall. “And my partner.”
Sister? Partner? Sophie grinned. Not wife or girlfriend? Isn’t that interesting. And she found herself wondering why the knowledge that Cain was single made her feel all warm and fuzzy.
“Your brother saved my life,” Sophie said. “I’m shuddering just thinking about how much he plans to bill me for services above and beyond the norm.”
Holly grinned and hopped up on the edge of the desk. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for the way I burst in the door. It’s just…”
“Don’t sweat it. I understand. I’d be upset, too, if my brother jumped in front of a moving car. If I had a brother, that is.”
“So, who’s the dude with the lead foot?” Holly asked. “Ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband? Current husband?”
“Holly, knock it off,” Cain chided.
“What? She must have hired you for something that made somebody mad. It’s a logical conclusion.”
Mr. Garrison laughed out loud. “Holly and the word logic in the same sentence? Wait until I tell your mother.” He closed the first aid kit and headed for the door. “Will you be coming over for dinner, son? You know as soon as your mother gets wind of this she’s going to be all over me for answers.”
Cain shook his head. “Sorry, Dad. Holly can fill her in. I’m going to run Sophie home.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sophie interjected. “My car is parked across the street.”
“Don’t worry about your car. My sister can drive it out first thing in the morning. I’ll follow her and we’ll ride back to town together.”
“But I can drive…”
“Sure you can,” Cain said. “But it is southern hospitality to make sure a young lady gets home in one piece…particularly after she hired you to work for her and then almost got run down right in front of your place of business. Besides, do you really want to grip a steering wheel with scraped hands?”