Mistaken Identity

by Shirlee McCoy

  Forget the bank. She was calling Jackson. He lived close enough to drive to her apartment and check things out. He could also find someone to install a new lock. The ninety-year-old could do a lot of things, but maintenance work on the apartment wasn’t one of them.

  So that was the plan. Call Jackson. Have him visit the apartment and install a new lock. After that, she’d call the bank and cancel her cards.

  It wasn’t a perfect solution to the problem, but it was something and it was better than sitting around hoping for the best.

  Satisfied, she dialed Jackson’s number and waited for him to answer.

  * * *

  Mason didn’t like the way any of this was going down. Sure, it would be nice to believe the purse had been taken as evidence, but he didn’t believe that. Not at all.

  Someone had searched her Jeep. That same person had taken the purse. More than likely, he was already halfway to Maryland, ready to break into Trinity’s apartment and wait for her there.

  Or find something he could use to manipulate her into a situation he could use to his advantage.

  He frowned, moving across the yard with Judah beside him. They’d known each other for enough years that conversation flowed easily, but neither of them was speaking. Knowing Judah, he was deep in his own thoughts, trying to piece together the very disparate pieces of a very complicated puzzle.

  They reached the Jeep and worked side by side, moving around the vehicle with slow deliberation, crouching next to areas that might have been tamped down by boots or sneakers. It was obvious people had been around, but it was impossible to tell if any of them had been in the Jeep.

  “We’re not going to find anything,” Judah finally said. “We might as well go back in.”

  “Giving up a little easily, aren’t you?”

  “You have another suggestion?”

  “Yeah. Check your deputy’s squad car and house.” It was just an idea, formed and spoken almost before Mason had processed it.

  “Which one?”

  “The one in the hospital.”

  “Chad Williams. That’s his name. His parents are going to be devastated if he dies. They’re going to be more devastated when they find out he tried to kidnap a woman.” He ran a hand down his jaw, obviously upset and angry. “I hope I don’t have to add stealing to that list.”

  “If their son dies, it might be best to keep the rest quiet.”

  “Might be best, but probably won’t be possible. This is a small town. People talk. Even my deputies are prone to gossip. Wouldn’t surprise me if the news has already started spreading.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. But you’re right. If someone took the purse, he’s at the top of the list of suspects. He could have easily opened the door and searched the vehicle, and no one would have said a word.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “This situation stinks,” Judah conceded. “I’m not going to lie. I didn’t sign up for small-town police work because I wanted what I had in New Jersey.”

  “You worked in New Jersey?” Mason asked, surprised because Judah had never mentioned it before.

  But, then, they were more the kind of friends who hiked, fished and hunted together. The whole male-bonding thing wasn’t for either of them.

  “I was a beat cop. I got tired of arresting smart people for doing stupid things, tired of cleaning up messes other people made, so...” His voice trailed off and Mason assumed he’d felt like he’d said too much.

  “So you came to a place where people never did stupid things and where there were never any messes to clean up?” He finished the sentence, and Judah smiled.

  “Right. As if there is such a place. I came home because it felt like the right thing to do, but it’s a lot harder than I imagined it would be to lock up people I’ve known for most of my life. This? It’s even worse because the suspect is a guy I liked and respected.” He sighed. “I’m going to head back to the station. I’ll look in Chad’s squad car and I’ll ask his parents’ permission to enter his apartment. It’s above their garage, so if they give it to me, I won’t have to get a search warrant. I’ll call you if I locate the purse. Call me if you have any trouble.” He stalked away, shoulders hunched against the wind, face down.

  Mason watched him go and then climbed into the Jeep. Trinity had left the console open. It was empty except for a packet of peanut butter crackers and a chocolate bar.

  Nothing under any of the seats. The glove compartment contained the driver’s manual and a twenty-dollar bill. Obviously whoever had taken the purse hadn’t taken it for the money. He checked the backseat again, catching a faint whiff of some flowery perfume.

  Icy rain splattered on the roof and pinged off the windshield. The sky—still thick with clouds—hung low, the moon hidden.

  He loved this part of the world.

  He loved his parcel of land, his house, his job.

  He had no desire to change things up, but there were times when he sat on the porch late at night, listening to the forest noises and wondering what it would be like to have someone beside him.

  He frowned, not sure why his thoughts had gone in that direction. Or maybe he was.

  Trinity.

  She’d exploded onto the scene, bringing all kinds of chaos with her.

  Chaos. The thing he always avoided. He wanted calmness, peace and routine. He needed those things. They kept him grounded and kept the monsters at bay.

  No way would he ever be attracted to a woman who turned calm into chaos, who brought people and noise and uncertainty.

  That wasn’t his deal, wasn’t his kind of thing.

  But he was attracted to Trinity.

  He couldn’t deny it any more than he could deny the truth about himself. He was a loner. He didn’t need people and letting any woman think he did would be a mistake.

  He exited the Jeep, closing the door and scanning the darkness as he walked back to the house. The foyer light was on, the soft glow as reassuring as the sound of humming coming from his office.

  Humming?

  He followed the sound, knowing exactly where it would lead him.

  Trinity was still in the secret room, only now she was hunched over his computer, typing frantically.

  He didn’t want to disturb her and he backed away.

  “No need to leave,” she said, not even glancing his way.

  “Looks like you’re working.”

  “I am.”

  “On?”

  “Just taking a look at your security settings. They seem pretty tight.”

  “They can’t be that tight. I’ve got a password that should have kept you from getting into the system,” he responded, stepping into the room and standing near her arm.

  She was still typing and still not looking at him, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

  “It was a good password. Not your birthday or your name. Not your address, either. I tried them all.”

  “It’s randomized.”

  “That’s the way it should be. It makes it nearly impossible for anyone to guess it.”

  “And yet you managed.”

  “I didn’t figure out the password. I came in through a back door. Most systems have them, but most people have no idea how to find them.”

  “I repeat—you managed it.”

  “I’m trained to manage it. Of course, once I’m in the system, I’ve still got to access encrypted files. Did you have a computer programmer set this up for you?”

  “Programmer and security expert.”

  “You must have been very worried about someone getting into these files.”

  “Client confidentiality is important, and the microchips I build into the prosthetics allow any of my clients to be located at any time.”

  “Do they know that?” She finally
looked at him, her sharp gaze at odds with her summer-blue eyes and her soft lips.

  “Of course.”

  “Who’s the guy you’re worried about? The one who’s witness in a court-martial case?”

  “Tate Whitman,” he responded.

  “You’re worried someone is trying to find him and they want to hack your system to do that, right?”

  “Yes.” He confirmed what he’d told her before and she turned back to the computer, short nails clicking against the keys.

  He waited, the minutes ticking by, her focus so complete that she didn’t seem to notice when the doorbell rang. He knew her brother and Cyrus had arrived, but he didn’t want to leave the room. Not even to answer the door. There was something fascinating about watching her work, something compelling about the complete focus she had.

  It reminded him of the way he felt when he worked on a prosthetic and was studying computer data, working out the variables and the measurements.

  The doorbell rang again and he finally pulled himself away. He shouldn’t be fascinated. He knew that. He shouldn’t feel compelled. All he should be doing was trying to find the quickest way to solve his problems and to get Trinity and her chaos out of his house.

  That is what he should be doing.

  What he would be doing. After he figured out how deep into his files Trinity could get, how much she could learn from them and whether or not she was able to find evidence that a hacker had been there before her.

  TEN

  Three days in Maine was about what Trinity had expected to spend. She just hadn’t expected to spend most of that time in a little office in Mason Gains’s house. That’s exactly what she’d done. Hour after hour hunched over his computer, trying to follow the trail of someone who had most definitely been trying to access his computer files.

  They hadn’t been successful.

  They’d accessed a few of the files that weren’t encrypted, but hadn’t been able to break the code to access the others. She’d barely managed. It had taken her two twelve-hour days to do it.

  “How’s it going?” Chance walked into the room, the scent of coffee and doughnuts following him.

  “About the same as it was the last time you checked on me. Five minutes ago.”

  “Five hours ago,” he corrected.

  She finally looked away from the screen. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.” He set a tray on a small table Mason had brought in. She wasn’t sure when. One minute it hadn’t been there. The next it had.

  “Time flies when you’re following trails.”

  “How about you take a break? Go outside, get a little air? The weather has cleared. The foliage is beautiful. That is why you came up here, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, go enjoy it.”

  “I’d rather finish what I started.” She turned back to the computer, ignoring the coffee and doughnuts and him. She wanted to find the systems operator on the other end of the trail. The sooner she did, the sooner she could leave.

  And she needed to leave, because Mason was proving to be a problem.

  She frowned, typing more quickly, accessing another system and another. Hitting another wall and backtracking.

  “Trinity,” Chance said, a world of patience in his voice. Which meant he wasn’t feeling at all patient. “You need to get some air.”

  “I have air.”

  “You’ve been sitting there so long, you’ve probably grown roots.”

  “I’m sure we’ll manage to uproot them when it’s time to leave.”

  “Here’s the thing,” he said. “It’s time. I’ve got to get home. So does Cyrus.”

  “So, go.”

  “We’re not going without you.”

  “Chance.” She stopped typing but she didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes or the worry in his face. “I’m an adult. I have been for a long time. I drove up here by myself and I can manage to drive myself back.”

  “When you drove up here, you didn’t have a price on your head.”

  “I still don’t.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “And you can’t spend the rest of your life trying to protect me.” She swiveled in the chair, turning it around so she was finally facing Chance. “You have a wife now. You have a home. You have Gertrude and a bunch of other people who count on you.”

  “And I have you and I’m not going to lose you. I’ll give you until tomorrow morning and then we need to leave. The plane will be ready at dawn.” He walked out of the room and left her there, his words echoing in the sudden silence.

  She wanted to leave, so his ultimatum shouldn’t have bothered her. It didn’t bother her. Not really. She needed to return to Maryland. She had an apartment there, friends, a job.

  And it wasn’t like she couldn’t continue the hunt there. She’d learned Mason’s computer system inside and out. She’d followed the trail three times to three different servers, none of which had given her the information she wanted.

  She could use the system at HEART, do her tracking from there, and still provide support for the team.

  But until she accomplished her goal, she couldn’t ask Mason to fulfill his end of the bargain. Henry’s surgery was in a week and she wanted to give him a little hope, give Bryn a little reassurance.

  She typed more quickly, breaking down firewalls and sneaking into systems, following the trail that had been left and then hitting the same wall she kept finding herself up against. For the first time since she’d begun working in the field, she couldn’t break through. Every time she tried, she was booted right back to the beginning.

  She tried a different access point and was shut down again, tossed back to the beginning of the trail and the very first system she’d hacked.

  Frustrated, she slammed her hand on the table, shoved away from it and nearly upended the tray Chance had left.

  Coffee slopped from an over-full cup, soaking a powdered-sugar doughnut.

  “This is not going to beat me,” she muttered.

  “Trouble?” Mason asked, his voice so surprising, she nearly toppled from her chair.

  She managed to right herself. Barely. And stood wobbling on legs that had spent way too much of the past few hours sitting.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her heart leaping as she looked into his eyes. This was why she really did need to leave. Three days looking into those beautiful, dark eyes. Three days watching him interact with her brother and Cyrus. Three days realizing that Mason wasn’t just a recluse who made prosthetic limbs. He was a really nice guy with a great sense of humor and a deep loyalty to the men and women he’d helped.

  She liked that about him.

  She liked him.

  And that could be a problem.

  It was a problem. When she’d broken up with Dale, she’d told herself that being single was what she wanted. She didn’t need to cater to a man. She didn’t need to work hard to make someone else look good.

  Fact—I don’t need anyone but God, my family and my friends.

  She’d scrawled those words in her journal the day after she’d said goodbye to the man she’d pinned way too many dreams on.

  “I’m checking on you,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her away from the computer. “It’s getting late. You haven’t eaten all day. How about we go outside? Get some fresh air and sunshine before the day ends and our chance for it is over?”

  “Did Chance talk you into saying that?”

  “He’s worried, and Cyrus was on the phone with his wife. I was the only one available, so, yeah. He did.”

  “I’m surprised,” she said as he led her from the room.

  “By what?”

  “The fact that you’re so easy to manipulate.”

  “I’m only easy to mani
pulate when I’m being manipulated into something that I want.”

  “You want to go outside?”

  “I want to get you away from that computer. You’ve been hunched over it for three days.”

  “There’s nothing unusual about that, Mason. It’s what I do for a living.”

  “Do you spend fifteen hours a day at your job?” he asked.

  “Not usually.”

  “Then you don’t need to do it here.”

  “Yes, I do. I want to give you what you asked for, so I can get what you promised.”

  “Is that what all your mad typing is about? What all the skipped meals and late nights have been for—to get me to come through on my part of the bargain?” They’d reached the foyer and he opened a closet, pulling out a soft, flannel jacket.

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Like?” He helped her into the jacket, zipping it up to her chin and then pulling her hair out of her collar. His hand brushed her jaw, her neck, the tender skin behind her ears.

  “This is the only thing I’m good at, Mason. I’m not willing to fail at it.”

  He laughed, the sound ringing through the hallway.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Yeah. It is.” He opened the door and they walked outside. The day was as beautiful as her brother had said, the trees red and yellow and orange.

  “Wow,” she breathed, reaching for Mason without thinking about it, clutching his arm as they walked down the stairs.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, and he stopped, touched her chin so that she had to look into his eyes. He wasn’t laughing. Not anymore.

  “You didn’t ask me why what you said was funny.” They were a yard from the house, a dozen yards from the woods. There was beauty all around her, vibrant colors, beautiful foliage, but all she could see was him.

  “Maybe I didn’t want to know.”

  “You are an innately curious person, Trinity. Of course you want to know.”

  He was right. Again.

  “How do you do that?” she asked, releasing his arm and walking toward the woods, searching for the path that led to the lake.