Mistaken Identity

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Cahoots?” Mason repeated, his amusement obvious.

  “I don’t care who you’re with, Trinity. Protocol dictates that when we’re on a mission, no member of the team deviates from the plan without informing the leader of his intentions.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never been on a mission.”

  “You helped with Stella’s grandmother,” he reminded her. A fellow HEART member, Stella had been attacked while she was caring for her elderly grandmother. It had been a tough situation and one that had required help from several team members. It had also led to Stella and Chance finally doing what they should have done years ago—getting married.

  “I babysat her while you and Stella ran off and did the hard work.” Trinity hadn’t minded nearly as much as she probably should have. She loved Stella’s grandmother. Beatrice had Alzheimer’s, but she still remembered her granddaughter, her friends and Trinity. She loved Little Women, Christmas and everything to do with family. She and Trinity had bonded during the time they’d spent together, and now they spent a couple of weekends a month together, shopping, getting their nails done and revisiting all the things Beatrice loved but sometimes forgot.

  “Every member of the team has a job,” Chance said, continuing with the same tired lecture he’d been giving her since he’d hired her. “Yours is no less important—”

  “Than anyone else’s. You’ve told me that enough times that I’m not going to forget.”

  “I’ve told you that, because what you do for the team is extraordinarily valuable. Without your work—”

  “Chance,” she cut him off. “We’ve been over this dozens of times. There’s no need to revisit it.”

  “Obviously there is. Stella said you’ve been dissatisfied at work. She’s been implying that you’d like a bigger role in the organization.”

  “Traitor,” she muttered, but she couldn’t be angry at Stella. She meant well and she had Trinity’s best interest at heart. Plus, she was family. She and Chance had been married for nearly a month. The perfect couple, they were everything Trinity had hoped to be with Dale.

  She didn’t like the twinge of jealousy she felt when she spent time with the two of them, and she didn’t ever allow herself to dwell on it. God had a plan for her life. A good one. One that was perfect for her.

  So what if it was taking forever for Him to reveal it?

  Eventually, He would.

  She hoped. She squeezed the bridge of her nose as Chance continued with the well-worn lecture. She couldn’t blame him for giving it. She had broken protocol, and she knew it. It wasn’t like she didn’t sit in on HEART meetings, hadn’t heard Chance issue the same information to every team member.

  “Let me,” Mason said, taking the phone from her hand. The move was so unexpected she didn’t even try to stop him. By the time she’d realized she should have, he was already talking to her brother.

  “Chance? It’s Mason. Your sister is fine. You can meet us at my place if you’re worried.” He met her eyes as he listened to Chance’s response. “Right. See you then.”

  He handed her the phone, settled back against the leather seat.

  “What’d he say?” she asked.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “I really want to get out of these wet clothes. I’m only mildly curious about your conversation with him.”

  He chuckled, his gaze still on her. “He told me that if anything happened to you, he’d hold me personally responsible. He also said that I’m not to let you out of my sight. And...he’s on the way.”

  “Perfect.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with someone caring, Trinity,” the sheriff said. He’d been silent since they’d left the church parking lot, his expression guarded, his shoulders tense. “I have four older brothers and two sisters. There isn’t one of them that doesn’t like to try to tell me how to live my life. That’s not smothering or controlling. It’s love. Every time I get annoyed, I remind myself of that.”

  “Must be interesting to live life with other people always wanting to be involved,” Mason said. The emphasis he put on interesting made it really clear that he didn’t actually think it would be.

  “You don’t have family?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m an only child. Both my folks died when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “They weren’t exactly stellar parents, Trinity. I was being raised by my grandparents before either of them passed away.”

  “I’m sorry about that, too.”

  “I’m not. My grandparents were good people. What values I have, they instilled in me.” They’d reached the turn-off to Mason’s property and he leaned forward, staring through the small window that separated the front and back of the squad vehicle.

  Trinity looked, too, but there wasn’t anything to see. The road was empty, no cars or lights visible.

  “Looks quiet,” he said, and the sheriff nodded.

  “I think everyone has cleared out. There wasn’t a lot to find. Mostly fabric fibers and hair. We collected a few bullets in the woods and a couple of K-9 teams may still be out there. Not likely, though. Not in this kind of weather.”

  “Good. I don’t much like a bunch of strangers congregating on my property.”

  “I don’t much like having crime in my community. So I guess we’re even.” Judah pulled up to Mason’s house, climbed out of the car and opened the door for Trinity. “Your Jeep is still here. It didn’t look like there’d been any action near it, so we didn’t tow it to the evidence lot.”

  “That’s great.” It would have been better if she had her keys. Unfortunately those had been lost at some point during her mad dash through the forest. Maybe they’d been located. If so, she’d have a vehicle to get around in.

  “We found keys and a cell phone near the edge of the yard. We’ll have to keep both,” he added as if he’d read her mind and was answering her unspoken request.

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll let you know when we can give them back to you.”

  “Thanks.” She was shivering again, the cold wind bringing more rain and driving it straight through her sopping clothes. She’d left her Jeep unlocked. At least, she’d thought she had. She had clothes there. Sweaters. Extra layers she could bundle up in.

  “No problem. I’m heading inside. I want to make sure the evidence team cleaned up before they left.”

  “You have the spare key I gave you a couple of years ago?” Mason asked. “Or do you need mine?”

  “I’ve got it.” The sheriff was walking toward the back door of the house.

  “We’d better get inside, too. Before you end up as cold as you were before we went to the hospital.” Mason touched her shoulder, and she felt the strange urge to lean into him, to let herself relax for just a few minutes.

  Obviously, she was a lot more tired than she’d realized.

  But not so tired that she was ready to go inside. She was more interested in going around to the front of the house, because she really needed warm, dry clothes. She also wanted to grab the photo album she’d tucked into her carry-on. There were pictures of Bryn and Henry in it. She’d included photos of Bryn’s husband, of the tiny house they’d lived in before he was killed. She and Henry still lived there. Right around the corner from Trinity, because Trinity had wanted to be close enough to walk over during the middle of the night when Bryn was lonely and crying for the love of her life.

  “Trinity?” Mason’s hand shifted from her shoulder to her cheek, and her breath caught, everything inside of her stilling.

  He was closer than she’d realized—just inches away, his clothes as wet as hers, his flannel shirt clinging to a broad chest and muscular biceps.

  And if she let herself she could see him as something he wasn’t—some kind of hero running to her rescue, the answe
r to some unspoken prayer, some unfulfilled desire. Eventually, she’d realize he wasn’t any of those things. She’d be disappointed the way she had been with Dale.

  She didn’t want that any more than she wanted to disappoint Bryn.

  “I want to grab some things from my Jeep. It will only take a minute.”

  “Let’s go, then.” He hooked his arm through hers and started walking, his body warm even through layers of wet, cold clothes. And it was there again, the urge to lean closer, to absorb a little of his heat, let it settle into her and chase away the chill.

  But, of course, she couldn’t.

  He was nearly a stranger, and she hadn’t ever even leaned on Dale. They hadn’t had that kind of relationship. Which, maybe, had been part of the problem.

  They rounded the house side by side and she could feel the tension ease from Mason as they moved deeper into the silence of his property.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked, the question popping out before she could stop it.

  They weren’t friends and they probably never would be, and it was really none of her business, but she wanted to know more about Mason. She could admit that. Just like she could admit that she liked the feel of his arm against hers, that she was attracted to his quiet confidence.

  “You didn’t find out during your research?” he responded, stopping at her Jeep.

  She tried the door, was relieved to find it open.

  “I know how long you’ve owned the property. I have no idea when you started living here.” She climbed in, reaching over the backseat to grab her overnight bag.

  It was heavy. She hadn’t packed light because she hadn’t been sure how long she’d planned to stay. It took time to plan a life. Especially a life that had become a train wreck of bad decisions.

  She yanked the bag, but couldn’t budge it.

  “You could open the hatch,” Mason suggested, reaching past her to push the button and open the back.

  “I would have, but that would have made things easier and I’m all about doing things the hard way,” she replied. It was supposed to be funny. She sounded pitiful instead.

  “Pity party, Trinity? You don’t really seem like that kind of person.” He walked around to the back and grabbed her bag.

  “It was a joke.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “It was.”

  “Is there anything else you need before we go inside?” He changed the subject. Which she should have appreciated because there had been a little bit of truth in her words and a little bit of self-pity in her tone. Instead she felt frustrated and annoyed. Usually she was cheerful, happy, an optimist who enjoyed looking at the bright side of things.

  Lately she was a Debbie Downer.

  She knew it, and she hated it, but she felt helpless to change it.

  The big 3-0 coming up in a couple of years, Stella had told her when she’d shared her frustration. And your life isn’t what you’d thought it would be. Of course you feel a little blue. What you need is a hobby. Something that doesn’t involve computers or spending time with my grandmother.

  “Trinity?” Mason prodded, the bag still in his hand. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “My purse.” The photo album was in it. So was her wallet, her key ring with her house keys, her ID.

  She opened the center console. She’d left the small bag there. Just like she always did.

  Only it was gone.

  “It’s gone,” she said, and Mason stepped closer.

  “What’s gone?”

  “My purse.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I am that you’re standing there.” She checked under the front seat. Just to be sure. Climbed into the back as Mason set the bag on the front seat.

  “What’s it look like?” he said, climbing into the back with her. It wasn’t a large Jeep and he was a big guy. They were crowded together, shoulders bumping, feet touching.

  “Small. Pink.”

  “Pink?”

  “Is there something wrong with that?” she asked, reaching under the backseat and coming up empty again.

  “I didn’t take you for a pink kind of woman.”

  She stopped searching for the purse, looked straight into his gorgeous eyes and told herself that he didn’t already know her better than Dale ever had. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch. Doesn’t look like we’re going to find it I here. You’re sure you didn’t have it when you walked to my door?” He took her hand, pulling her from the Jeep.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Maybe the police took it in as evidence.”

  “Why?”

  “How about we ask Judah?” He grabbed her bag and turned toward the house. “He’s probably already made himself comfortable. We might as well stir things up a little.”

  “They haven’t been stirred up enough for one night?” she asked, distracted by the thought of her purse in the hands an unknown entity. If the police or the FBI had it, that was fine, but if the guys who’d chased her through the woods did...

  She shuddered and Mason dropped an arm around her shoulder, tugging her close his side.

  She should have been surprised but she wasn’t.

  She also should have been appalled.

  But, of course, she wasn’t that, either. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, nothing forward. He was providing warmth that she obviously needed, and she was taking it because she was half frozen again.

  Simple.

  A courteous gesture. Nothing more. But it felt better than anything had in a long time. It felt more natural than taking her next breath, and that terrified her.

  “You should have kept Agent Michaels’s coat,” Mason said as he led her to the front door. He fished a key from his pocket, his arm dropping from her shoulder, and it would have been like it had never been there. Except that she could still feel his warmth.

  “I don’t like to owe people.”

  “And yet, you don’t mind being owed.”

  “Another thing you’ve guessed about me?” she asked as he unlocked the door and led her into a small foyer. A wide doorway on the left opened into a living room. To the right, another door opened into a well-outfitted office.

  “Is this the computer you want me to look at?” she asked, standing in the doorway and eyeing the system.

  “No.” He set her bag down and stepped into the room, walking across gleaming wood floors to a wall lined with bookshelves. He pressed his fingers to a spot beneath one of the shelves and the entire wall slid sideways—bookshelves and all.

  Behind it was another smaller room.

  Not much there. Just a computer monitor and hard drive, a chair, a file cabinet and photos. They were everywhere—pictures of men and women in uniform and in civilian clothes.

  “Your secret bat cave?” she murmured, moving into the space.

  “If I were a superhero, maybe,” he responded.

  She just nodded, her attention caught and held by one picture after another. A few were of hospital rooms and patients lying in beds, limbs wrapped, faces pale, eyes hollow. Even their smiles couldn’t hide the trauma they’d lived through.

  “My clients,” he said as he walked in behind her. He flicked a light switch on a wall and the computer monitor came to life. “I like to remind myself.”

  “Of the good work you’re doing?”

  “Of the reason why I do it.” He said it quietly, that hint of sorrow and loneliness in his voice. She heard it the same way she’d seen it in his eyes.

  “Mason?” Sheriff Dillon called. “You in here?”

  “Yeah. Come on back.”

  “Anything missing?” the sheriff asked as he walked into the room.

  “They weren’t able to access it.”

  “You’
re sure?”

  “Only my fingerprints can open it. They’d have had to chop through the shelving wall to get in, so I’d know if they’d been here.”

  “That’s something, then.”

  “Sheriff Dillon,” Trinity began, and he held up a hand.

  “How about just calling me Judah? That’s what I go by. Even when I’m on duty.”

  “Okay.” She agreed because she didn’t care what she called him. She wanted answers to a few questions. “Was my car searched while the evidence team was here?”

  “There was no need. There wasn’t any evidence that the perps had been on this side of the house.”

  “Someone was in it,” she said. “My purse is missing.”

  “You’re sure?” He asked the same question Mason had.

  “She’s sure,” Mason replied. “We searched the vehicle and it’s not there.”

  “Is it possible you dropped it when you exited the vehicle?”

  “No.”

  “Tell you what... I’ll make a few calls. See if maybe I’m wrong about the vehicle being searched.”

  “I hope you are. My wallet was in the purse. My house keys.”

  The two men exchanged glances and she knew what they were thinking—anyone who wanted access to her house and her life could easily get it. Address on her driver’s license. Key in her purse. They had everything they needed to take anything they wanted.

  “I should probably call my bank and cancel my bank cards,” she said, pulling out her cell phone.

  “That’s a good idea,” Mason said. “Judah, how about we take a look around her Jeep? Maybe we’ll see something I didn’t notice when I was out there before.”

  The two men walked out of the room and Trinity had no doubt they were planning to discuss her while they were gone. She didn’t care. All she wanted was what had been taken. She didn’t care about the money in her account. It didn’t matter if a thief took every cent of the money she’d been saving for her wedding and honeymoon. She was worried about her apartment in Annapolis and about Marjorie Mae. Her landlady watered the plants when Trinity was away and if she walked in on someone riffling through Trinity’s things, the elderly woman could be hurt. Or worse.