The Stolen Identity (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  Closing her eyes, she snuggled under the covers and thought fleetingly of how nice it would be to have someone there beside her, keeping her warm and safe, holding her close, especially tonight. Her birthday had passed uneventfully. She hadn’t told anyone at work. She didn’t want anyone to make a big deal of it and preferred to slide into thirty, unseen.

  It wasn’t that she had an issue with her age or wanted to remain in her twenties, and neither of her parents had seen fit to celebrate milestones like that in a big way. A quiet family dinner with the three of them had sufficed for many years. And now that it was just her and her dad and she lived six-hours’ drive away…

  She thought of her father and frowned. He hadn’t called like she thought he would. Though they kept celebrations low-key, a phone call was always made. Perhaps he’d forgotten? He was getting older, after all.

  The thought saddened her and all of a sudden, she was filled with dread at the knowledge there would come a day when he wouldn’t be there for her. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Nobody lived forever. And then she’d have no one.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Detective Sergeant Colt Barrington propped his feet up on his desk and stacked his hands behind his head. He’d attended court earlier in the morning and had given evidence for the prosecution during a couple of hearings, neither of which were serious.

  The first defendant was up on assault charges. No weapon was involved. It was nothing more than a bar brawl between two friends who’d let a disagreement over a girl get a little out of hand. It was only after the defendant claimed self-defense that the matter had ended up in court. His lawyer would have to perform a miracle to convince the judge that was the case after the man had knocked his opponent out cold.

  The second matter had been over almost as soon as it started. When the police prosecutor approached Colt that morning, and advised him he’d be giving evidence on the Manning case, Colt hadn’t concealed his surprise.

  Michael Manning had been caught by the police red-handed in a jewelry store, still carrying a bag containing stolen property. He’d set off an alarm upon his entry and was still filling his sack when Colt and his partner arrived on the scene.

  Colt could only surmise the man’s decision to plead not guilty was a last desperate attempt to delay his inevitable trip to jail. Manning had a record of more than a dozen similar offenses. Colt had been in the witness box less than five minutes before the defendant’s lawyer had sought a short adjournment. Ten minutes later, Manning changed his plea.

  Now, barring an unforeseen emergency, the rest of the afternoon was Colt’s. He’d almost caught up on his paperwork and his reading was up to date. He’d answered emails, returned phone calls from concerned members of the public and given a quote to the local newspaper. All in all, the day was going well.

  The phone at his elbow pealed, interrupting his thoughts. Dropping his boots to the floor, he leaned over and picked up the receiver.

  “Armidale Police Station. This is Detective Colt Barrington.”

  “How are you doing, little brother?”

  Colt grinned at the familiar voice of his identical twin. It was a standing joke between them that Colt was the younger one – born four minutes after Beau.

  “Not bad, buddy. How are things in the big smoke?”

  “Busy. You know how it is. Saving lives is a hectic business. There’s always someone needing help.”

  “Thank God for Doctor Beau Barrington. Have they honored you with a fellowship, yet? A doctor held in such high esteem must surely be first in line?”

  “You’re too funny, little bro,” Beau replied dryly.

  Colt laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Take it any way you like. Hey, Mom left me a voice mail message. Something about a family get together on the Australia Day long weekend. Do you know anything about it?”

  Colt sighed with exaggeration. “Oh, no! Don’t remind me! It’s their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Mom wants us all home to celebrate.”

  “Don’t tell me she expects us to battle the Tamworth Country Music Festival goers? Doesn’t she know the place is impossible that time of year?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s all part of the fun as far as Mom’s concerned,” Colt replied. “Have you forgotten what it was like when we were kids?”

  Beau groaned. “How could I forget? One year Mom even forced us to busk along Peel Street! You and Ryan had those old guitars and I was on the drums. I think Wade had a clarinet and Ashleigh and Emily were on the flute. Christian was on the keyboard and Darcy… What did she play?”

  “Was she even born then? I can’t remember.”

  “You’re right,” Beau replied. “We couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. Darcy wasn’t even a twinkle in Dad’s eye.”

  “Lucky her,” Colt added.

  Beau chuckled and Colt couldn’t help but join in his mirth. They complained about their childhood, but the truth was, the two of them felt incredibly lucky to have grown up in such a large, supportive family, where every member was loved and appreciated and encouraged in their endeavors. There were a lot of kids who weren’t so fortunate.

  “You’re going to have to take the time off and come up here,” Colt murmured. “Mom won’t have it any other way.”

  Beau sighed on the other end of the phone. “Yeah. Thirty-five years. Wow.”

  “Yeah, and even after all those years, they still seem to get on. I wonder how they do it?”

  “I guess they work harder at it than some,” Beau quipped.

  Colt compressed his lips. Talk about marriage and lifelong commitment made him antsy. He cleared his throat.

  “Luck or not, Mom and Dad will never forgive you if you don’t show your ugly mug at their party. Mom’s beyond excited at the thought of having all eight of her children together again.”

  “So all the others can make it?” Beau sounded surprised.

  “As far as I know. I was speaking to Mom yesterday. The only person she hadn’t heard from was you.”

  “Great.” Beau heaved another sigh. “I guess that means I’ll have to put in for some time off. Australia Day is only a couple of weeks away. I hope it’s not going to be a problem.”

  “For your sake, I hope so, too,” Colt said. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if you have to explain to Mom why you won’t be there for her party. She still hasn’t forgotten how Christian preferred to spend last Christmas sailing the Whitsundays with his girlfriend rather than in Tamworth with his family. I think even Chase and Josie are going to make it.”

  Beau made a sound of horror. “Are they bringing their son?”

  Colt chuckled. “Of course. He’s two, Beau. Hardly old enough to be left home alone. What’s your problem? I thought you loved kids.”

  “I do, but Clancy Munro is one kid I haven’t taken to. The last time they visited he cried every time I looked at him. People were beginning to wonder if I was doing something to him. It was beyond embarrassing.”

  Colt laughed outright. “Strange. He doesn’t react to me that way. All you have to do is explain to any guests that you’re a brain surgeon, not a baby doctor. That will be sure to impress them enough that they won’t care that you’ve upset an innocent child.”

  “Yeah, well, the last time was almost a year ago. Hopefully the kid’s grown a bit more tolerant of strangers since then. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I saw Chase. It will be good to catch up with him again.”

  Colt murmured his agreement. Chase Barrington was a first cousin on their father’s side. As an only child, Chase had spent a fair amount of his school holiday vacations with his extended family. Colt and his brothers and sisters regarded Chase as one of them. When Chase had married the girl he’d been in love with since high school, Colt couldn’t have been happier for him. It was only when Colt thought of marriage and how it related to him that he got panicky.

  He’d made it to the ripe old age of thirty-one, footloose and fancy free, and h
adn’t even come close to falling in love. It was an achievement he was proud of though he had nothing against women. In fact, he loved women.

  He’d been raised to treat the fairer sex with courtesy and respect and he made sure he did so. He opened car doors, pulled out chairs and always paid the bill. He had a reputation in Armidale for being able to show women a good time. It didn’t mean he wanted to tie himself down to any particular one of them.

  He liked playing the field. In fact, the high divorce rate frightened the life out of him. He had no intention of settling down and heading down a path that was sure to end in failure. He didn’t want to become just another sad statistic. He might be the oldest child in the Barrington family, and with that status came a certain expectation, but he had plenty of brothers and sisters who could carry on the family line.

  “I wonder if Christian will bring Brianna?” Beau mused, interrupting Colt’s thoughts. “They’ve been dating at least six months. It’s probably about time she met the rest of the family.”

  “Do you think it’s that serious?”

  “Like I said, it’s been six months.”

  “So?”

  “I can see you’ve never been in love,” Beau teased.

  “Hey!” Colt protested. “Just because I don’t fall for every girl who smiles at me doesn’t mean I can’t develop tender feelings.”

  Beau laughed. “It’s not my fault I fall in love so easily or that I fall out just as fast.”

  “You’re a slut, Beau Barrington. You ought to be a little choosier.”

  “As if you can talk, little brother. I don’t need to spend much time in Armidale to get word of your reputation.”

  Colt chuckled and changed the subject. “So, who are you in love with at the moment? Last time I checked, it was Monica.”

  “Yeah, that was more than a month ago. Monica and I are over. I was never around when she needed me. At least, that’s what she said. What can I say? I’m busy saving lives. It’s not easy being a renowned neurosurgeon at Sydney’s most prestigious hospital.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We can’t all wear a red cape,” Colt chided good naturedly.

  “How’s life treating you in Armidale, anyway?” Beau asked, changing the subject.

  “It’s good,” Colt replied and realized he meant it. “I enjoy the slower pace of country life. It must have something to do with growing up in Tamworth. It might be large enough to be called a city, but to me it’s still a big country town.”

  “Better you than me,” Beau replied. “I’m not sure I could ever live in the country again. There’s something about the pace and excitement of the city. It gets in your blood.”

  “Yeah, well, just make sure you drag yourself home for the long weekend. Mom’s counting on it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dear Diary,

  Life is working out so much better than I expected. It’s like the old me never was. People only see what they want to see. They’ve fallen for my sleight of hand like small children watching a magic show. Now you see him, now you don’t.

  * * *

  Morgan slid the key into her post box and reached inside for the mail. The usual collection of junk mail, advertising anything from cell phones to pizzas, filled her hands. Flipping through the flyers, she just as quickly tossed them into the recycling bin that stood near the bank of post boxes. Only two letters remained. One was a bill from her electrical company. The other was a birthday card.

  At least, she assumed it was a birthday card. The envelope was a pale lilac color and oversized, in the way of greeting cards. It had to be from her dad. No one else would be sending her a card.

  She turned it over and frowned. The handwriting curled and flowed like her father’s, but something about it didn’t look right. Perhaps he’d injured his hand in the days preceding? Or maybe he’d been overdoing the gardening and his arthritis was acting up? She’d have to ask him next time they spoke.

  Slipping her fingernail under the flap, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. It was pretty and pink and had a standard, sweet Hallmark message printed in the center. The handwritten message from her dad was succinct:

  Happy Birthday Morgan!

  Love Dad

  It had been four days since her birthday and she still hadn’t spoken to him. A fresh pang went through her at the knowledge he’d forgotten to call her. She re-read the contents of the card and frowned. The handwriting matched that on the envelope and though it was close, it didn’t quite look like her dad’s.

  She’d told Georgie she usually spoke with her father at least once most weeks and that was true. Occasionally she’d get busy and forget, or her father would be traveling with friends for an overnight golf trip, but they never went more than a week or two without calling. Still, he’d remembered to send her a birthday card, even if it was a little late.

  Tossing the mail into her handbag, she closed the post box and headed toward her car. Sliding behind the wheel of her little blue Honda, she checked her mirrors and pulled out into the traffic.

  The day had been largely uneventful. A couple of planned induced labors had gone smoothly and by the end of her shift both mothers and their newborns were resting comfortably. She’d been a midwife for nearly six years and she still got a buzz out of being present in the birthing suite. The miracle of watching a new life come into the world never failed to move her.

  She thought of the baby she could have had and was filled with a familiar sadness and regret. He or she would have been ten by now. She couldn’t imagine being mother to a ten-year-old. Driving her son or daughter to Little League and soccer practice, ballet lessons, piano… The list went on. That life would be so different, so…fulfilling.

  Instead, there was just her, alone in her one-bedroom condominium, with nothing to show for her thirty years on the planet except for a degree in nursing and a second-hand car. She didn’t even own a cat.

  Her savings account was dismal. She rarely put anything aside for emergencies. The truth was, living in the city was expensive and making her modest wage stretch was a challenge she faced every fortnight. More often than not, she relied on her credit cards to get her through to the next pay check.

  Her father hated the idea she was short of money and had insisted on buying her the condo she lived in near Bondi Beach. Though she’d been overwhelmed by his generosity, she worried that he hadn’t left enough money for himself.

  He was only in his mid-fifties, and apart from the odd aches and pains caused by his arthritis, he was still in excellent health. He managed to walk a brisk three miles a day and swam twenty or more laps in the university pool. His blood pressure was stable, his cholesterol was low and he didn’t have diabetes.

  All in all, he’d aged well and though she occasionally worried about what it would be like to lose him, she was confident he still had many years to live – and living was expensive. She knew that better than most.

  Pulling into the driveway of her condominium complex, she parked in her reserved spot and collected her things. She pushed open her front door and was greeted with a silence that was all too familiar. Dropping her handbag on the hall table, she moved further inside, switching on lights as she went. The place was cool and inviting after the heat of the summer day.

  The light on her answering machine was blinking and she was immediately filled with a rush of disappointment at the thought she might have missed a call from her dad. Pressing the button, she listened to her hairdresser remind her of her appointment later that week. With a sigh, she headed into the kitchen.

  After tossing together a quick meal of tinned tuna and leftover salad, she sat at her small kitchen table and ate while scrolling through her Facebook newsfeed. After swallowing the last mouthful, she took her plate to the sink.

  Pulling out a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge, she poured herself a glass and took it into the small living room – about the size of a shoe box and barely able to accommodate her loveseat and TV. Still, it
boasted the most magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean a girl could ask for.

  The view was the main reason she and her father had gone ahead with the purchase. She loved being near the water and although she didn’t get anywhere near enough time to enjoy it, she liked knowing it was close by.

  Toeing off her shoes, she curled up on her imitation leather sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. She took a sip of her wine, relishing the cool, tart taste and stared out the window at the oncoming night.

  A bus changed gears as it labored up the hill less than two hundred yards from her building and she caught a glimpse of the commuters filling its seats. People heading home from work after a busy day. Heading home to their loved ones, their families, their friends and their roommates.

  A wave of loneliness washed over her and she took another sip of wine. It was useless to wallow in self-pity. She was doing plenty to find the one. She attended parties and hung out in bars and nightclubs whenever her friends got the urge to go out. But she’d just turned thirty. She was getting too old for that kind of thing and if she were honest, she was tired of it.

  She was ready to fall in love and settle down and make a life with someone else. She was tired of living alone, of coming home to an empty house. Her hand drifted across her stomach and she thought of the microscopic being that had dwelled inside her for such a brief time. She’d made a decision to terminate and it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It was too bad she hadn’t realized then that the opportunity to be a mother might never again come her way.

  She stirred restlessly on the couch, disgruntled with the direction of her thoughts. It was only because she hadn’t spoken to her father for so long that she was out of sorts. That and the fact she’d just begun another decade. Nobody wanted to face the prospect of growing old. The idea of growing old alone was even more frightening.

  Her thoughts turned to her mother and her shoulders slumped on a sad sigh. The eleventh anniversary of Judith O’Brien’s death was a mere three days away. Cancer had claimed her, cutting her life short by far too many years. Morgan dreaded the arrival of the actual anniversary day. It only served to remind her of how much she’d lost, how much her father had lost.