Hidden Identity

by Alice Sharpe

  Adam took a few pictures of them through the window opening and caught the open beer bottles each was holding. They were so preoccupied they didn’t even notice the flash. Tiptoeing off his perch on the deck, he made his way up the trail, using the flashlight on the phone to check out the truck while keeping his senses alert for any trouble that might come from Holton’s direction.

  He found no additional teens, drunk or sober. He opened the hood and took the distributor cap, then closed it. He strode off the road to another concealed spot behind a couple of tall bushes and called Diego. It was answered on the second ring.

  “What?” Diego responded abruptly, though his voice was fuzzy because he’d been woken up.

  “This is Adam. Get on up here ASAP.”

  “Now?”

  “Yep. The kids are here and they’re too drunk to drive. I disabled their truck, but you need to be the one to call the police.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Diego said.

  “Make it ten. And don’t forget the cops.”

  Adam waited around until Diego showed up in his dark truck, lights and engine off, momentum carrying the heavy vehicle to a rolling stop. A shadowy Diego exited like a sooty ghost. Adam disengaged himself from the bushes and approached Diego.

  “I called the police on the way up the hill,” Diego whispered.

  “They took a six-pack down there with them,” Adam said. “Every once in a while I hear glass breaking.” He gave Diego the distributor cap and the phone. “It’s up to you now.”

  “Thanks. You’d better go.”

  Adam clapped the other man on the back and took off at a trot. He’d taken care of Diego’s problem.

  Would that his own could be so easily resolved.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chelsea was up bright and early. She’d done some of the prep work for the party yesterday, but there was still a ton to do. Maria was there to help and that was nice, but as Maria’s English seemed nonexistent, Chelsea found herself missing the back-and-forth banter so common in this kind of work.

  Wait? How did she know what was common behavior in a commercial-like kitchen? But she did: she could remember jokes and laughing, but not faces. First the reaction to the fire, now this—was it a start? Oh, please let it be so and let it progress quickly into memories of Adam and her family.

  Aimee showed up around ten and Maria immediately stopped helping Chelsea and served Aimee coffee and a toasted muffin. “Take it out to the patio,” Aimee said as Maria approached the table with the tray. “Wait. Where’s the juice and a bowl of fruit? Honestly, Maria.”

  “Perdón,” Maria whispered.

  Aimee rolled her eyes. “Daisy, have those damn party people shown up yet?”

  Chelsea piled strawberries in a bowl and then froze. She shouldn’t have been able to understand Aimee’s request for fruit as it was delivered in her quicksilver Spanish. But Aimee was still complaining and not paying any attention. Maria took the bowl and placed it on the tray.

  “Daisy?” Aimee repeated. “The decorators? Am I alone here? What am I paying you for?”

  “Catering your party,” Chelsea answered as she handed a glass of juice to Maria. “And no, as far as I’m aware, the decorators haven’t come yet.”

  Aimee got to her feet and swept out of the room. Maria followed behind her with the tray, but she glanced over at Chelsea before leaving.

  When she got back, Chelsea, in Spanish, apologized for disguising the fact she understood a little Spanish.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Maria said in perfect English.

  “You lied, too?” Chelsea asked her.

  Maria nodded. “Sofia worked up here before me. She’s the one who told me about the job, but she said Ms. Holton wouldn’t hire anyone who speaks or understands much English so I just pretended to be fresh off the boat instead of born and raised in Portland, Oregon. My family knows me as Mary Louise, but in this house, I’m Maria. Man, I about split a gut when you told the boss lady exactly what she’d hired you to do. She presumes too much.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I’m glad we can talk openly to each other,” Maria said. “Sofia’s husband is sick of them living apart. He wants to take off. I bunk out there during the week and if she leaves, I’ll be here all alone. Maybe you could move out there with me.”

  “I’m not staying past tonight,” Chelsea admitted. “I’m just here for this party.”

  “Shoot,” Maria said.

  “Who’s coming, do you know?”

  “She threw the last one for some would-be politician. I heard via Miguel that this time she’s invited a TV star I’ve never heard of. She likes to rub shoulders.”

  “Were you here when Mr. Holton—?”

  “No! I wouldn’t work for a man like him. It’s hard enough working for his wife.”

  “Maria, I have a question. I met a teenager here named Mariana.”

  “I didn’t know her name,” Maria said.

  “Then you met her?”

  “I saw her when Ms. Holton paraded her in to wash some crystal glasses. I admit it, I can be clumsy, but honestly, three glasses in nine months service? Anyway, when I spoke briefly to the girl, Ms. Holton told me to leave her be. Kind of timid, right?”

  “I thought she seemed frightened and with good cause. I believe she may be a battered kid, but I’m not sure. I’d like to talk to her. Do you know where she went after Aimee sent her away?”

  “Not a clue. I can ask Sofia—”

  “I already asked her.”

  “Hopefully she went home.”

  Would that be any better? Not if it was her family who was abusing her. “Why do you work here if you hate it so much?” she asked Maria.

  Maria shrugged. “I’m thirty-three years old. My two kids currently live with my late husband’s parents in Phoenix. I’m going to college online and I’m just about done. Then I can get a job as a court reporter and get my kids back. I miss the little monsters like crazy. Aimee Holton is the means to my end.”

  Chelsea smiled. “I hope she’s the means to my end, too,” she mumbled, thinking of what Adam had said last night on the phone, that his plan was to spend the party in disguise, getting a good look at each and every guest, looking for connections to his past and to Holton. It sounded a lot easier said than done.

  * * *

  ADAM TRIED DENNIS’S phone first thing in the morning but there was still no answer. Since he hadn’t fallen asleep until almost 4:00 a.m., it was now well after ten. That meant Dennis was undoubtedly already at work, where he wouldn’t answer a personal call. Knowing Chelsea was elbow-deep in food prep and surrounded by people, he decided to drive to the old Stop and Shop in Hard Rock and see if he could catch Dennis during his lunch break.

  That meant showing up in the town he’d sworn to avoid, but he had to get his hands on that box and he was wearing his trusty helmet so he was more or less invisible, right?

  He found the renovation of the small grocery into a fish pet store in full swing. Several contractor vehicles were parked along the sidewalk in front while men toted supplies and tools in and out of the building. Adam pulled to the curb and waited.

  At noon, the site began to clear but there was no sign of Dennis. Adam got off his bike when a burly guy with unruly eyebrows left the building and crossed the street.

  “Excuse me,” Adam called out, taking off his hood. “I’m looking for Dennis Woods.”

  “You a friend of his?”

  “Yes. I’ve been trying to get ahold of him.”

  “He called in earlier. Stacy gave birth about two o’clock this morning. I guess she and the baby are both okay, but the hospital’s keeping them a few days on account of it’s a couple of weeks early.”

  “Where are the other kids?”

  “Up with Stacy’s sister in Phoenix.”<
br />
  “Thanks,” Adam said as the guy moved along. What was it going to be like when Chelsea gave birth and he saw his son or daughter for the first time? Amazing, yes, but would the world suddenly look different? In a few short months, he was going to be a father and he’d find out.

  God willing...

  Frustration just about choked him. What would they do tomorrow morning if nothing had changed?

  Suddenly Adam knew. If Chelsea agreed, he’d send her somewhere no one would ever think of looking for her and set himself up here as a target with Whip to watch his back. No more waiting around. He thought back to everything he knew about Chelsea and remembered her talking about a woman she’d met at the culinary school she’d attended in Los Angeles. They’d become friends. Sarah Miller, that was her name, and she’d taken an executive chef’s position somewhere in the greater L.A. area. Chelsea wouldn’t remember Sarah, but Sarah would certainly remember Chelsea, and she would also have pictures and stories.

  But first there was that box Dennis had found under Adam’s childhood home. He had to know what was inside. The possibility it could condemn—or clear—his father was too strong to ignore. He had to know.

  The motorcycle got him to Tucson in good time and by two thirty, he’d found the hospital birthing center. He took the elevator to the second floor and walked down a nondescript hall toward the nurses’ station. Before he reached it, he happened to glance through an open door into a square room and found Dennis sprawled in one of many chairs, his head flung forward, chin touching his chest, eyes closed.

  Dennis looked up as Adam sat on the chair beside him. “Hey,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  Adam studied his friend. “You look terrible.”

  Dennis’s smile was fleeting. “It was a long night.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “Boy.”

  “That’s great, man. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. He’s small but perfect. The doctors say he can go home in a couple of days.

  “And Stacy is okay?”

  “Fine. She’s asleep with the baby right now. I came down here for coffee and kind of collapsed.”

  Adam got up and poured his friend a cup from the carafe on the counter then sat back down.

  Dennis took a long swallow. “That’s good,” he said, and stared at Adam a moment. “Remember our old plan?”

  “You mean the tavern?”

  “Yeah. You and I were going to open a place, remember? Artisanal beer, music, hire a chef and serve really excellent bar food—”

  “Chelsea’s a chef,” Adam said. “A good one.”

  “Really? Well, I know all about beer and the plumbing it takes to brew it and you, my friend, can build anything.”

  “It would be fun. Maybe someday, who knows?” He paused for a second, then added, “I have something to tell you.”

  Dennis almost spit out his latest mouthful of coffee. “The box! I forgot about it. Oh, Adam, I’m sorry. I haven’t even been answering the phone. You must have waited—”

  “No, no, don’t worry about that. My news is that I’m going to be a dad in several months. Chelsea is pregnant.”

  Dennis’s grin was wonderful. “That’s great.” He slugged Adam in the arm. “Then you and her are serious?”

  “Very. We’re already engaged—well, it’s a long story and we’re doing our best to make sure it has a happy ending. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Fatherhood’s the greatest,” Dennis said. “My kids and Stacy mean the world to me.”

  “I can see that,” Adam said. “You’re an inspiration.”

  Dennis laughed. “I bet Whip is thrilled.”

  “I haven’t told him,” Adam said. “But you’re right, he’ll be excited. Anyway, about the box. If I can borrow your key I’ll go get it myself.”

  “No need. I had already stopped at the storage garage when Stacy called and said her water broke. The box is in my car and my car is out in the parking lot.”

  “That’s great. I’ll go get it and bring your keys back.”

  “Maybe a walk and a breath of fresh air will revive me,” Dennis said as he got to his feet and stretched. “I’ll go with you.”

  The parking lot was out in the open and Dennis took a deep breath as they walked to his car. Their friendly catch-up chatter stopped when they found the back window of Dennis’s vintage Chevy smashed. Dennis quickly stepped through the broken safety glass and unlocked the front door. He swore. “They ripped the CD player right out of the dash,” he said, “Damn, that thing was brand-new!” He peered into the back seat. “Oh, Adam, shoot, your box is gone, too.”

  Adam stared into the empty backseat. “Maybe you put it in the trunk?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, man, the trunk is full of birthday presents for our oldest.” He unlocked the trunk, anyway, to reveal bags and boxes of toys.

  “I’m sorry,” Dennis said.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah. First my house and now my car. What’s next?”

  Adam stared at the broken window and wondered the same thing.

  * * *

  “GONE? THE BOX IS really gone? Just like that?” Chelsea said as she juggled two trays of appetizers. The party was in full swing and Adam had just returned from Tucson. He’d spent the afternoon having Dennis’s window fixed and a new CD player installed so Dennis could stay at the hospital with his wife and baby.

  “Just like that,” he said, relieving her of one of the trays.

  “I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed.”

  “Yeah. He’s had a couple of break-ins recently That seems really suspicious to me. Tomorrow you and I have some decisions to make and then I want to take you to the hospital to meet Stacy while I ask Dennis a little more about that box.”

  She agreed, pleased he was including her in his life. If they were to be married and create a family, he had to get over living like a lone wolf. But visiting friends was also such a contrast to outrunning killers that she had a hard time wrapping her head around it. Holton seemed to have a dozen henchmen willing to do his bidding. Would she and Adam live through another Nevada-scale attack?

  “Anyway, that’s why I’m late. What have I missed?”

  Maria and Sofia came to the door. Sofia stared at Adam for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Adam? Does Miguel know you’re here?”

  “No, I’m kind of undercover. I haven’t been around long.”

  “Don’t let Ms. Holton see you,” Sofia said, her eyes wide.

  “Not on your life,” he said, handing her a tray.

  She nodded and hurried after Maria.

  “Your Spanish is excellent,” Chelsea said, proud she’d understood every word of their conversation.

  “My grandmother was born and raised in Mexico City.”

  “I was going to say I didn’t know that, but hey, that’s the story of my life, right?”

  He suddenly leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Okay, what did I miss today? Give me one of your famous lists.”

  “Let’s see. According to Aimee, the contractor—your boss, right?—looked at the fancy refrigerator they delivered last night and declared it was the wrong model, so she called the store and read them the riot act. They’re reordering and meanwhile, those poor delivery guys have to drive up here after work this evening and take this one back because she can’t stand to have it on her property another night.

  “The afternoon drama continued when the decorators didn’t show up until almost four. They strung sparkle lights, strategically placed a few potted palm trees and paper lanterns, scattered flowers and presto, the patio now resembles a tropical paradise. The liquor is flowing, the television actor brought groupies and last but not least, Tom Nolan arrived.”

  “He’s out there?”

  “In the flesh. He and a jumpy Aime
e exchanged a few kisses and then she reverted to a hot mess. Oh, and Nolan brought a big hulking guy instead of a wife.”

  “Is Davy here, too?”

  “Not yet. He was here earlier when the debacle about the refrigerator was going down. I guess he had to check the numbers on the box and make sure it was indeed the wrong one. Took him forever, too. Maybe he can’t read.” She furrowed her brow and looked up at Adam. “I’m still expecting something to happen, something that finally helps us understand who Devin Holton designated to orchestrate your murder.”

  “I am, too,” Adam said. “Maybe we’re desperate.”

  “I think it’s Aimee, at least for me. The first day I was here she was conceited and mean, the next day she was angry and nervous, and now she’s jumping out of her skin. Something is up. What about Whip? Did you hear from him today?”

  “As far as Whip knows, we’re halfway to Florida so I don’t expect to hear from him. There wasn’t anything about it on the radio, though,” he said. “Whip said they’d keep it hushed up because the guy was a US marshal.” He looked longingly toward the patio, “I need to go out there and look around.”

  Chelsea frowned. “Maybe you could hide out in the den. It fronts the patio.”

  “I’ll try it,” he said to appease her.

  “I should take more of this food out to Miguel.”

  “Go ahead. I know my way around this place.”

  * * *

  ADAM FOUND THAT the den, by virtue of being the thoroughfare to the bathroom, had been decorated just like the patio, with paper lanterns strung overhead and straw hats, grass skirts and silk leis tacked to the walls. He made his way to the open glass doors and peered outside. The music was too loud to hear conversation, but Aimee and Tom Nolan had chosen to stand directly under a string of paper lanterns and so were clearly visible. He glimpsed a burly figure behind Nolan and immediately fingered him as Nolan’s bodyguard.