Mistaken Identity

by Shirlee McCoy

  She had. A few times. She’d worked for the state police, for a local mortgage lender and a private investigator who’d been certain someone had been accessing his secure files. “Yes, but it’s not my area of expertise. I’m more of a trail tracker.”

  “Would it be your area of expertise if I agreed to talk to your friend and her son?”

  “What?” she asked, not sure she’d heard him right.

  “You see what you can find out about my computer system and files, and I’ll talk to your friend and her son. If I decide not to help them, I’ll send them to someone just as good.”

  “There is no one as good as you.”

  “There are many, many good people who do what I do. Several of them work exclusively with children.”

  She didn’t know if she could help him. She had no idea if she could find any evidence of system infiltration on his hard drive. Even if she did, there was no guarantee she could trace it to its source.

  She must have spent too long thinking about it because he leaned down so that they were eye to eye. “I really need your help, Trinity. I could ask Agent Michaels, but that will mean giving up my computer system, and I’m not doing that without a fight.”

  “What’s on there that you’re so protective of?”

  “Information about clients.”

  “It must be pretty inflammatory information.” And, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved. Not if it was something the government wanted in on.

  “It’s not. At all.”

  “Then why is the government after it?”

  “It’s a long story, Trinity. And we don’t have time to hash it out.” He glanced toward the emergency vehicles, frowning as someone stepped from the crowd. She followed his gaze.

  Agent Michaels. And he didn’t look happy. Thanks to the flashing emergency lights, she could see his frown from across the yard.

  “I don’t like making rash decisions.” Which totally explained why she’d left Maryland without telling anyone in her family what she’d planned to do when she reached Maine. Thankfully Mason didn’t point that out.

  “What would be rash about it? You came to Maine with an agenda. I’m willing to help you achieve your goal. I’ll even give you financial compensation if you want.”

  “I don’t.” But she did want to help Bryn and Henry.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “To keep from getting into trouble with the FBI?” she whispered, trying really hard not to look at Agent Michaels. Of course, she did look, and she could see that he was heading straight toward them.

  “There is nothing illegal about what you’d be doing. You know that.”

  True. She did.

  “And you’ll be helping four people.”

  “You. Henry. Bryn. Who’s the fourth?”

  “One of my clients. I’m worried he might be in danger, and I’m concerned that an outside entity might be hacking into my computer to access information about him. Like I said, I could go to someone else, but you’re here, and this is a good deal for both of us.” He seemed sincere, his dark eyes looking straight into hers, and she wanted to help him almost as much as she wanted to help Bryn.

  Just say no! her saner self screamed.

  So, of course, she opened her mouth and did exactly the opposite.

  “Okay. I’ll help.”

  * * *

  “Thanks,” Mason said, squeezing Trinity’s hand and then releasing it. He shouldn’t have been holding it, anyway. He’d known that. He’d only meant to help her to her feet, but her skin had been cool and smooth. Her hand had fit so easily in his and he’d told himself that he didn’t want her to slip on the icy steps.

  And then, somehow, they’d continued to hold hands as they discussed his plan. The one he’d come up with about three minutes before he’d voiced it.

  He’d been sitting on the steps, catching his breath, clearing his mind, centering himself in the only way he’d ever been able to—prayer. Because that’s what had gotten him through his time in the military, the death of his daughter, the breakup of his marriage.

  There were plenty of times when he doubted God’s existence. His goodness. His love. But he still turned to Him in prayer when life got hard, when things were rocky, when he had no idea what direction to turn. There was calm in the midst of turmoil when he became still and listened.

  And sometimes...

  Sometimes he really thought he heard God speak to his heart. Not in audible words. Not in any definable way, but in a quiet assurance that He was there.

  So he’d been sitting and praying, and he’d seen Trinity walking toward him. It was as if he’d known her for years. Because he’d known what she’d do. He’d known she’d stop at the bottom of the stairs and he’d known she’d hesitate. He’d known that she’d finally approach him and that she’d sit without speaking.

  She’d done all those things and, when he’d helped her to her feet, he’d known she wouldn’t pull away. Even though she could have.

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but there was something about Trinity he didn’t think he could resist. Not if they spent much more time together.

  That should have been enough to make him keep his distance. It would have been enough if he hadn’t been worried about her. She had her brothers. She seemed to have a team of people willing to drop what they were doing to help her out of trouble, but she also seemed to walk into trouble. A lot.

  And until the person responsible for the break-in at his house was found and behind bars, there was no guarantee that Trinity wouldn’t walk right into more danger. He wanted to keep an eye on her and he wanted her expertise to help him locate the person behind the scenes, the one calling the plays and making decisions. If promising to talk to Trinity’s friend and her son gave him both of those things, he was willing to do it.

  He would have explained that to her, if she’d asked.

  But she seemed too tired for words, all the animation gone from her pale face.

  “How are you two doing?” Agent Michaels asked, moving into their close circle before Mason could ask Trinity if she was okay.

  “Fine,” she said with the same fake-cheerful voice he’d heard her use before.

  “Are you sure?” Agent Michaels asked. “I heard you ran into some trouble tonight.”

  “I’ve been running into trouble nonstop since I crossed the border into Maine,” she responded, running a hand down her wet face. It didn’t do any good. The floodgates had opened and rain was pouring from the sky. She could brush the water away all she wanted. It would be back in seconds.

  “That’s interesting, isn’t it?” Agent Michaels smiled, but there was nothing warm or kind in his face.

  Trinity must have sensed that. She tensed, her eyes narrowing. “Not really.”

  “Of course it is. Everything was quiet around here until you showed up.”

  “Are you implying that I brought the trouble with me?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m just stating a fact. Sheriff Dillon told me they haven’t had a robbery in town in over a year.”

  “And?”

  “Now they’ve had a break-in, an attempted kidnapping, a murder.”

  “The young man died?” Mason asked, glancing toward ambulance crew.

  “I should have said attempted murder. He’s still alive—barely. Either of you two know him?”

  “No,” Mason and Trinity said in unison.

  She met his eyes, offered a tentative smile. “Jinx?”

  “This isn’t the time for games, Trinity,” Agent Michaels said. “Are you sure you don’t know the victim?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “And you, Mason?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Sheriff Dillon knows him.” The FBI agent’s words came out quickly and Mason tensed. He didn’t
think he was going to like what he was about to hear.

  “He’s from town?”

  “He’s a part-time deputy with Whisper Lake’s Sheriff’s Department. He was on the scene tonight at your place, helping with the investigation.”

  Yep. He definitely didn’t like what he was hearing.

  “There were a lot of people on the scene,” Mason responded, his mind playing through all the variables, trying to make sense of the new information. The guy calling the shots had deep pockets. That’s what he kept coming back to. Deep enough to pay people to do his dirty work.

  “True, but he was there and now he’s here. Somehow he arrived before anyone called in a crime.”

  “He wasn’t in uniform,” Mason noted.

  “I noticed. So what’s he doing at an abandoned church?”

  “Did he smoke?” Trinity asked.

  “I have no idea. Why?”

  “The guy who grabbed me smelled like cigarettes and alcohol.”

  “Then it wouldn’t surprise me if the deputy smells like both.”

  “You think he tried to kidnap me?” Trinity sounded genuinely surprised.

  Mason wasn’t. People would do a lot of ugly things for very small amounts of money.

  “Can you think of another reason why he was out here in the rain, his shoes caked with mud, twigs stuck in his clothes, pine needles in his hair?”

  “A bullet in his stomach,” Mason added.

  Agent Michaels shook his head. “He was shot in the back. The bullet went straight through. Probably did a lot of internal damage.”

  “Same caliber as the one used at my place?”

  “We’re still searching for the bullet. Just so you know, Mason, the deputy wasn’t just at the scene of the break-in. He was helping process the scene inside your house.”

  “I need to head home.” Mason strode past Agent Michaels, his muscles tight, his stomach churning with helpless fear.

  “What’s wrong?” Trinity ran up beside him, taking two strides for every one of his, her face even paler than it had been.

  “That computer system I want you to look at is at my house. It contains sensitive material—client information I don’t want getting into the wrong hands.”

  “What would be the wrong hands?” she asked.

  He could have ignored the question. He could have told her to find her brother and go back to the inn, but Trinity was in this as deep as anyone and she deserved answers. “I’m not sure, but I think whoever it is wants to stop one of my clients from testifying at a court-martial hearing.” He explained quickly as he dodged through a crowd of people watching as the deputy was carried to the ambulance.

  Judah was standing a few feet away, his expression grim. He didn’t stop watching the gurney until it was on the ambulance. Then he turned to Mason and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. He passed all the background checks. He grew up in town. He’s a good kid. Or he always seemed to be.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for this, Judah.”

  “Sure I can, but blaming anyone isn’t going to do any good. Is there anything you two need before I head to the hospital?”

  “A ride back to my house and permission to enter it.”

  “You’re afraid he took something?”

  “I’m afraid he found a way into my office.”

  “I hadn’t thought that far yet, but it’s a legitimate concern. I’ll drive you over. They finished processing the scene, so getting you inside shouldn’t be a problem. Come on. Let’s head out.”

  Judah stalked across the yard and Mason followed, Trinity jogging along beside him. “Do you think they’ll let you in the house?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “I think they’re going to have to.” Because Mason was going inside. He didn’t care who tried to stop him. If the system had been compromised, Tate needed to be warned.

  He needed to be warned, anyway, because there was no telling how many people were hunting him or how high the bounty on his head. And there was one. Mason was certain of it. A good kid from a nice town who’d never committed a crime didn’t go rogue for a pittance. If the fallen deputy was involved, then he’d been paid well to be.

  Mason had allowed the authorities to collect evidence. He’d stayed out of the way while they’d processed the scene at his house. Now he was going to do his own investigating. He was going to find Tate, warn him, and then he was going to track down the guy calling the shots and he was going to stop him.

  NINE

  They were five minutes away from the old church when Trinity’s phone buzzed. She knew who it was before she glanced at the Caller ID. Chance was looking for her. She should have let him know she was leaving, but she’d been busy trying to keep pace with men who were bent on getting where they were going quickly. She hadn’t had time to.

  Even if she had, she might not have done it.

  The truth was, she didn’t have the energy to argue with her brother. Not that he’d have argued about her going to Mason’s place. He’d probably have insisted on accompanying her, but she wouldn’t have minded that. What they would have argued about was her involvement in the case. Chance wouldn’t want her helping with a computer forensic search. Not when it was connected to a volatile situation. He’d want her to get on the next plane to Maryland. She had no intention of doing that. They’d be at cross-purposes and that would lead to an epic battle.

  Okay. Not epic. Not even a battle. Chance wasn’t that kind of guy. He’d take a more subtle approach, reminding her that their parents were vacationing in Europe and would be brokenhearted if anything happened to her.

  As if she needed a reminder. Every time she walked into her parents 1970s ranch house, she was confronted by their loss and their sorrow. Not that they hadn’t moved on. They had. But there were pictures of Trinity’s sister everywhere. A few of her ratty stuffed animals sitting on doll rocking chairs or bookshelves, photo albums, newspaper articles, even journals that had been shipped back from her mission trip. Trinity had poured over them when she was a kid. Back then, she’d believed she’d find a clue that would restore her family.

  It had never happened and eventually she’d stopped looking. For some reason she’d felt like a failure because of that. If she was honest with herself, that failure had shaped her choice of careers. She wanted to follow trails, figure out the significance of the most insignificant thing. By the time she’d entered college, computer forensics had been a thing and she’d jumped on board.

  She didn’t regret her career choice.

  She just wasn’t sure it would have been her choice if her sister’s disappearance hadn’t shaped her journey.

  Her phone buzzed again and she sighed, pulling it from her pocket, her elbow jabbing Mason in the ribs.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He shrugged. “Not your fault. I could have sat up front.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “You looked like you might pass out, so I didn’t want to leave you back here alone.”

  “That’s...sweet?”

  “Mercenary,” he corrected. “I need your help, remember? If they haul you off to the hospital, I’m not going to get it. Not quickly, anyway.”

  “I don’t need to go the hospital and you aren’t the kind of guy who needs anyone’s help,” she responded, not interested in whatever game he was playing. She was going to help him because she believed he’d follow through and meet with Bryn and Henry, but she didn’t think he needed her expertise any more than she needed five more minutes standing in the rain.

  “Everyone needs help sometimes,” he responded.

  Something in his voice made her turn her head, look into his dark eyes. When she did, she was caught in his gaze, surprised by that hint of loneliness, the sadness that was barely hidden.

  Not her business.

  She’d bee
n down Love Avenue before. She’d walked it hand in hand with one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. Dale had been sweet and funny and charming.

  And a cheating, lying, two-timing jerk!

  The sad thing was she’d seen the signs. She’d had some suspicions. She just hadn’t wanted to believe what her gut was telling her.

  She swallowed bitterness that tasted like bile and offered Mason her best fake smile. “You’re right. I misspoke. You obviously need my help with your computer system.”

  “All right,” he said quietly. “We’ll go with that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your phone is buzzing,” he replied.

  He was right.

  It was. Buzzing incessantly, the texts coming in fast and furious. She could have continued to ignore them, but Chance never gave up. He was probably already trying to track her phone signal.

  She punched his number, waiting while the phone rang twice.

  He answered on the third ring, his voice gravely and sharp with anger. “Where are you?”

  “On the way to Mason’s place.”

  “Are you nuts? You were nearly kidnapped twice tonight. The safest place for you is on a plane heading home.”

  “No plane is going to take off in this kind of weather. At least, not any private plane,” she pointed out, sidestepping his comment about heading home. She’d made a deal with Mason. If she followed through, he would, too. Maybe once he met Bryn, once he talked to Henry, he might change his mind and agree to make the prosthetic leg.

  “Stop sidestepping the issue,” Chance growled. “You walked away from a mission without permission.”

  “We weren’t on a mission—”

  “Yeah. We were. It was mission Keep Trinity Alive. And you’re not making it easy to be successful.”

  “I’m with Sheriff Dillon.”

  “You mean the guy who had the man who kidnapped you on his payroll?”

  “He attempted to kidnap me. He wasn’t successful.”

  “You’re splitting hairs.”

  “I’m trying to talk you down from your adrenaline high. I wasn’t kidnapped by the deputy, and I’m currently with the sheriff and Mason. I doubt they’re in cahoots, luring me off to my doom for some nefarious reason.”