Oh, so you just want to use me for a slip-and-slide bang toy while I’m here, huh?
Her words rang in his head and felt like thorns raking over his conscience. They made him feel like some lowlife, womanizing bastard who only wanted to use women. In fact, the reason he didn’t want a committed relationship was because, statistically, the odds were he might end up being just like his old man, who was a bastard. Then there was the time he’d attempted the whole hearth and home thing, and he’d been the one who ended up heartbroken.
All Tyler wanted was to share a pleasant couple of weeks with Zoe.
Yet, while tossing and turning in bed last night, he’d tried to see this whole argument from her point of view. Not because he thought she was right, but because the best defense was insight into your opponent. That way, he’d know how to explain to her how wrong she was when they talked about it. Consequently, after looking at this from her perspective, he realized it was true. He looked like a womanizing bastard. Did seeing a woman for mostly sexual reasons, when the woman was okay with the arrangement, make him a bastard? So maybe she wasn’t okay with it, but how would he know if he didn’t ask? Perhaps just asking a woman automatically made him a louse?
Damn it, he was overthinking things again. He swung around and left the apartment. He needed to spin his mental wheels coming up with questions that would help solve this case, not on questions about the ethics of sexual promiscuousness.
Once in the office, he made a pot of coffee. Considering how little sleep he’d gotten, he made it strong. Twenty minutes later, he was still mulling over their argument, unable to think about anything but Zoe. And not even thinking about things relating to the case, but personal stuff that he wanted to know about her. Finally, giving in, he pulled out a pen and paper and started writing down his questions.
Was she always so damn beautiful when she slept?
Did she always sleep on her side?
Was she grumpy when she first woke up in the morning?
Did she need coffee before she was sociable?
Shit. There wasn’t any coffee in the apartment. He poured her a cup and gathered up some cream and sugar and a plastic spoon. He’d leave it on the coffee table. She could always heat it up when she woke up.
He eased open the apartment door. It didn’t appear as if she’d even moved a muscle. He stood there, coffee in his hand, and watched her sleep. He remembered how he’d felt when she’d defended him to the asshole Thompson. The way she’d looked up at him with belief in him. Then he remembered how she looked when she’d been angry last night. His chest grew tight again.
But why was he letting this get to him? Hadn’t life taught him to keep his emotional distance? Things never hurt as much if you didn’t care.
He felt something at his feet. Lucky brushed up against his ankles. He set the coffee down on the coffee table. Steam rose from the cup. Kneeling, he gave the cat a rub behind his good ear. Damn, the thing was ugly. And yet, Zoe loved him. What kind of woman took in a mutilated cat? He mentally tagged that question to add to his written list.
But then an answer shot back at him. The same kind of person who didn’t go for short-time sexual flings with a possible womanizer.
Frowning, he rose and started to walk out, but instead went to the kitchen where he’d seen a pad and pen. He scribbled a note.
Warm it in the microwave or there’s more in the office. Come see me when you wake up. He tore off the sheet and set it down beside the coffee. He started to leave and stopped, knelt down, and reached for the note. He put the pen to the paper.
Sorry for…
What was he sorry for? He hesitated, the pen’s tip still against the paper. Then, feeling a grimace all the way to his lower intestines, he finished the sentence…. upsetting you. He signed it with the letter T and stopped himself just before he added some Xs and Os.
He’d always added Xs and Os to the notes he’d written Lisa. When he’d first started dating her, he’d been working nights and he’d always leave a note on the bedside table. If something happened on the job, she’d always have his last note, letting her know he’d cared.
There it was again. The word care.
He stood and looked again at Zoe. Why was it that these last few days he thought more about Lisa than he had in the last year? Mentally, he tagged that one on to his personal list of questions, and then he left the room.
“Get that thing out of here!”
Tyler looked up from Lucky stretched out on his desk, his orange tail sweeping back and forth across his desk, to Austin standing in the doorway. Zoe was still sleeping when he went in to check on her for about the tenth time. This last time she had shifted slightly, and he spotted his phone tucked under the pillow. He’d almost tried to retrieve it, afraid someone might call, but at the last minute, he decided not to chance waking her up.
“He’s just sitting here.” Tyler looked to see the time: seven fifty-five. At eight on the dot, he was calling the Texas Department of State Health Services to see if Zoe’s birth certificate was legit. His gut told him it wasn’t, that the Adamses had someone make them up a fake certificate. Though he hadn’t figured out why they would have done any of this. Did good people kidnap kids and then love them?
The whole thing was a puzzle, and he was itching to solve it—mostly for Zoe’s peace of mind. And as soon as he proved the certificate was a forgery, he planned on giving Rick Clark a call and see about him getting him a little DNA from the old man.
Austin cleared his throat and motioned to the cat.
“He’s not hurting anyone,” Tyler said.
“It hurts me to look at him. She should at least buy him an eye patch.”
Tyler frowned and eyed the time again. He’d already called Mr. Logan at Lab Inc. for some info. Unless Rick could actually get old man Bradford to open his lips and let him stick a swab in his mouth, any other retrieved item like a toothbrush was going to take a week.
“You’re seriously not going to get rid of him?” Austin asked.
Tyler looked up. “You’re seriously that afraid of a little cat?”
Austin laughed. “You’re in a bad mood, which means you didn’t get lucky.”
Tyler reached for the phone. “Kicking someone’s ass almost always helps my mood. Would you like to volunteer?”
“Where is she?” Austin looked down the hall as if he was half considering going to see her.
Tyler set the phone down. “She’s still sleeping.” He eyed Austin with a warning. It didn’t matter that she’d shot Tyler’s romantic attempt down. He wouldn’t stand by and watch Austin try to make Zoe another notch on his bedpost. And the fact that Tyler saw that as so immoral, when it had been the same thing he’d wanted to do last night, sat on his conscience like a two-ton gorilla. Maybe he was a womanizer.
“You really are in a bad mood,” Austin said.
“I need to make a call, so sit down and shut up.”
Austin moved into the room… cautiously. “Fine, but I swear if that cats attacks me, I’ll take off the tip of his other ear.” He patted his gun under his shirt.
Tyler picked up the phone and dialed. Thanks to Pablo, his cousin with the Highway Patrol, he had the name and direct number. One of the investigative clerks had done some checking for him on a case a couple of months ago.
“Hi, Bee. It’s Tyler Lopez, Pablo’s cousin.”
“You know, I could get in trouble doing this, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it’s an easy one. Just need to verify a birth certificate.”
“Give me just a minute,” she said. “I just walked in. Let me pull up my T.E.R. program.” Clicking of the keyboard filled the line. “Name and a date?”
“Zoe Adams. February twenty-sixth, eighty-four.”
“Good year,” she said. “My daughter was born then. What you got going, a fraud case?”
“Something like that.” He held his breath and waited for her to say the record wasn’t there. That there wasn’t a Zoe Adams.
Because why else would someone be taking potshots at her? What were the odds of her really looking that much like Nancy Bradford…
“Okay,” she said. “Just one more button and we’ll know if Zoe Adams even exists.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“BORN AT SIX TEN A.M. in Shadows County at Main Street Hospital,” Bee said.
“Are you sure?” Tyler asked.
“I’m reading it to you, aren’t I?”
“And it’s not tagged with a deceased flag?”
“Nope. But I’ll cross-match it with my expired list.”
“Thanks.” Tyler picked up the pencil.
“What’s wrong?” Austin asked.
Tyler held up one finger.
“Okay…” Bee said a second later. “There’s no deceased record on a Zoe Adams. Miss Adams is still alive and kicking. Not that it means whoever you got claiming to be Zoe Adams is telling the truth. People will use anyone’s name and Social Security.”
Yeah, but it told him the most important thing. Namely, that a Zoe Adams had been born. Tyler said his thanks and hung up, feeling more confused than ever.
“Now are you going to tell me?” Austin asked.
He filled Austin in.
“So you think she’s lying to you?”
“No,” he said. “She’s telling the truth. She was raised as Zoe Adams.”
“Then maybe she is Zoe Adams,” Austin said.
“No. She looks just like Nancy Bradford. And someone has attempted to kill her or at least try to run her off. There’s a story here; I’m just not sure what it is.”
His thoughts ran around in his head. To focus, he picked up his pad and flipped back a few pages to the questions he’d written about the case. One question stood out: “If Caroline Bradford was still alive, whose body was it that they found?”
“Shit. Maybe it was Zoe Adams’s body that was found and mistaken for Caroline Bradford. Maybe something happened to her and the Adamses were either trying to cover up a murder or just wanted to replace her.”
“Are they about the same age?” Austin asked.
Tyler pushed his papers back and went onto the computer to find the article on Caroline Bradford. “Caroline was nine months younger than Zoe. But they might have been the same size.”
“Hey…” A female voice called from the doorway.
Tyler looked up, thinking it was Zoe, his gut tightened. He didn’t know how to tell her about his discovery, but it wasn’t her.
Ellen, the new receptionist, walked in looking a bit out of place. “I’m here and ready to work.” Her gaze went to Lucky. The cat was still stretched out on Tyler’s desk, appearing a little cautious of the new person in the room. Ellen’s eyes widened.
“Oh, my,” she said.
“See,” Austin said. “I told you that thing was ugly.”
The buzzing noise startled Zoe from a deep sleep. She shot up on the sofa, heart racing. The phone, Tyler’s phone, went sailing to the floor.
“Hello?” came a feminine voice from the phone.
Zoe blinked. Did she accidentally answer the phone when she sent it sailing? She bent down and looked at the fancy piece of equipment.
She’d barely managed to find the books on the thing last night. His latest downloads on the psychology and social culture of Interpersonal Attraction had kept her up until almost four this morning. And much to her dismay, she concluded that she was the perfect case study of someone hot on the heels of some man.
“Tyler?” the voice asked.
“Shit.” She had hit the Answer button. Still not fully awake, she grabbed the phone, looking for the Off button.
“Shit, what?” the voice came again.
“Shit,” Zoe repeated, her voice hoarse from sleep, and she put the phone to her ear. “I’m sorry, I’ll get… Tyler.”
She jumped up and went down the hall and tapped on the bedroom door. “Tyler?”
“Hey, some Chica answered Tyler’s phone,” the voice on the line said, but Zoe knew she wasn’t talking to her now.
“Who is this?” the voice on the phone asked, and this time she was talking to Zoe.
“No one.” It sounded lame, but give her a break. She was still half-asleep.
“Hi, No One. My name is Sam. I’m Tyler’s twin. Did you find Tyler?”
“Uh, I’m trying.” She tapped on the door harder, and when no one answered, she inched open the door. “He’s not in bed,” Zoe said, and realized how that sounded the moment she said it—which was a moment before Tyler’s sister Sam yelled out, “He’s sleeping with her.”
“I’m not sleeping with him.” Even to her ears it sounded like a lie.
Zoe shot back down the hall, her face hot from embarrassment.
“Did you check under the covers?” Sam chuckled.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” Zoe repeated.
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Because…”
“Are you married?” she asked.
“Yes,” she said, thinking it was the easiest way to end this conversation. They’d think she was married and know she wasn’t…
“He’s sleeping with a married woman,” Sam yelled.
“No,” Zoe said. “He’s not. I’m not—”
“Is this Lisa?” Sam asked.
“No.” Zoe continued down the hall, stopping at the pink sofa.
“It sounds like Lisa,” Sam yelled out, and Zoe heard all sorts of voices making comments in the background. Whoever this Lisa was, Tyler’s family apparently didn’t like her that much.
“I’m not Lisa.” Zoe saw the cup and the note on the coffee table. She picked up the note.
The words, “Sorry I upset you,” were underlined, and there were even a couple of Xs and Os beside the letter T. She got an achy feeling in her chest.
“You sound like Lisa,” Sam said.
“I’m Zoe.”
“Her name is Zoe,” Sam yelled out, and then said, “My sister wants to talk to you.”
“No,” Zoe said, but it was too late.
“Hey, I’m Lola. Tyler’s older sister. Is this Lisa?”
“No.” Zoe grabbed the door and took off down the hall that led to the office.
“What are your intentions with my brother?” Lola asked.
“I don’t have any intentions.” Zoe walked into the office.
“So, you’re just using him for his body, huh?” Lola chuckled.
Tyler looked up from his desk. His eyes went wide. “Hey.”
He stood up, looking confused and apologetic. Probably about last night, she decided. But she hadn’t had her coffee yet and didn’t know if she was still mad at him or not. Just in case, she kept her expression neutral.
Before he could say anything else, she handed him his phone. “It’s your sisters. They think we’re sleeping together. They asked if I was married and I lied, I don’t know why, it just popped out. Now they think I’m Lisa. And now they want to know what my intentions are with you. Can you clear that up?”
Tyler gaped at the phone. A male chuckle came from across the room. Zoe looked over at Austin, whom she’d met briefly yesterday afternoon when he popped in while she gave Tyler a lap dance. He was at his desk, laughing. Then she spotted Ellen, the receptionist, standing at the file cabinet in the back, also laughing. Zoe offered them one quick nod and then hotfooted it away.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said when he walked into the apartment three minutes later. He found Zoe in the kitchen pushing buttons on the microwave. No doubt attempting to heat the coffee.
“I can’t figure out how to get this friggin’ machine to work.” She turned around frowning.
No anger in her blue eyes, but he said it again just in case. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I told you I overreacted. Let’s forget it.”
“I was talking about my sisters, but… I’m sorry about that, too. And like you’ve already established, I suck at apologies, so I’ll just shut up now.”
She pushed a
hand through her hair. “I shouldn’t have answered your phone. Well, I didn’t really answer it. It woke me up, and the phone fell and must have hit the On button. I said something and they heard me and the next thing I know we’re… having some insane conversation.”
“It’s not you, believe me. It’s them. I told you they’re crazy. At least sixty percent of all conversations with them are like that.”
She looked back at the microwave. “Do you know how to work this thing?”
“Yeah, but the coffee’s old by now. Let me grab you a fresh cup.” He took off to the office and grabbed two cups and a plate with four donuts from the box Austin had gone after. Ellen and Austin were still laughing about Zoe and the phone call when he went back in, but he ignored them.
When Tyler came back to the apartment door, Lucky was standing there, meowing to get to Zoe. They walked in together. The sofa in the living room was empty. The tiny table in the adjoining dining room nook was empty. Tyler moved to the kitchen, thinking she’d be there, but nope. She’d disappeared. His gut started to panic, then he heard the bathroom sink running. He set the coffees on the coffee table and emptied his pockets of creamers and sugars next to the cups. Dropping on the sofa, he waited for her to come out.
He ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to have to tell her the news and his suspicions. It was bad enough to think the people who raised you kidnapped you, but to think they could have killed their own daughter, well that was tough to swallow.
He actually contemplated not telling her and then decided he had to.
She walked out of the bathroom and stopped when she saw him. She’d put her hair up, and he got a whiff of toothpaste.
“I brought coffee and donuts.”
“Thanks.”
She moved around to the chair as if she was afraid he’d try something. But how could he after she’d put him in his place like she had last night? He picked up his coffee and added a couple of creamers.
It was probably the Xs and Os he’d added to the note. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but on one of the last trips he’d made to check on her, he’d remembered Lisa liking it, and before he’d thought it through… he’d scribbled them down on the note. And now regretted it.
Blame It on Texas Page 17
