Identity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

by H. D. Thomson

  “Is that a threat?” Skye thrust her chin out, not caring how antagonistic she looked. She suspected his anger and frustration masked a number of dark secrets she could only guess at.

  But were those secrets enough to kill for? For a moment, Skye wondered what the man was capable of. Then she thought of the attempted kidnappings. Maybe she’d made a grave error. Gordon might be involved far deeper than she’d ever imagined.

  Skye stepped back from the man. Uneasiness prickled the back of her neck, but she quickly shook off the feeling. It didn’t matter. Skye intended to peel away the secrets from the past, no matter how intimidating Gordon became.

  “Take it however you want it,” Gordon finally said. Then he turned on his heel, opened the door and didn’t wait to see if she followed.

  ~~*~~

  “Like I said,” Gordon muttered from behind David and Skye in the computer room of the library, “you’re chasing shadows and little else.”

  Seated in front of computer monitor beside David, Skye compressed her lips to smother a retort. For the last two hours, David’s father had been hovering around them like a crazed bat. She glanced to the right where Tyler sat at another table playing one of the computer games the library offered. Unlike Gordon, her son had found something to amuse himself.

  She rubbed the back of her neck and blinked against the fluorescent lights that glared from above and revealed every crevice across the Formica table, every chip on the room’s walls and every black scuff mark on the faded linoleum floor. The bright lights hadn’t helped the strain of staring at a jumble of words.

  On her left, David twisted around and peered at his dad. “Dad, we’ve been through this before. I’m not—”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re not asking for my opinion.” Gordon’s breath drifted over her shoulder.

  Peppermint. The scent whispered beneath her nose. Skye’s brow knitted. Anxiety tightened around her chest. What was it about that scent? Something familiar, but elusive. Her frown deepened. No matter how hard she grasped at the memory, it hung tantalizingly outside her reach.

  Clothing rustled as Gordon shifted from behind. He said in a voice low enough not to disturb the other people in the room, “You might as well pack it in. If you haven’t found anything by now, you’re not going to.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Frowning, David shifted and glared up at his dad. “How about you find something to do other than breathe down our necks?”

  “Aren’t we in a foul mood?” Gordon rocked back on his heels. “Fine. I’ll leave. Anything’s got to be better than staring at a bunch of newspaper articles. Maybe Tyler will want to join me and have a look around.”

  “No! He’s fine.” Skye lowered her voice, conscious of several turning heads as she swiveled in her chair to face Gordon. “I don’t want to ruin a good thing. He’s occupied just fine right now.”

  “The kid’s got to be as bored as I am.”

  She met Gordon’s simple, direct expression and wondered... Did the man have some dark, ulterior motive to leave the room with her son? No visible signs of insanity gleamed in his eyes. No hint of a crazed madman lurked beyond their depths. An ordinary, aged man with sloped shoulders stared back at her.

  Skye didn’t care how normal the man looked. She still didn’t trust him. “I don’t care.”

  Jaw tightening, Gordon muttered, “Fine.”

  She watched him disappear from the room, glanced over at Tyler, still occupied with the computer, and sank back in her chair. But she didn’t relax as David added another string of words to the search engine and pressed the enter button. Seconds later, a new list appeared. Another click from David revealed a newspaper article about a recent explosion at a pharmaceutical company.

  Skye leaned forward and frowned, her mind not really on the article on the screen. “What do you know of your father?”

  “What type of question is that?” he asked in a guarded voice. He twisted in his chair until his thigh brushed against her knee.

  She stopped herself from shifting away, knowing such a move would reveal how much his nearness bothered her. “Ever since Tyler was kidnapped, I’ve always been super cautious, and I’m just wondering if your dad and Tyler... If Tyler would be safe with—” Sighing, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  David arched a brow. “You’re wondering if Tyler would be safe with my dad.”

  “No...”

  Understanding swept across his face. “You think my father has something to do with the kidnappings?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re thinking it.” He laughed and covered her knee with a large palm. “You’re way off. Ethics and my dad go hand in hand. If you had to trust anyone, he’d be the one I’d pick.” An inexplicable expression flickered across his features as he pulled his hand away. “Well....you can count on him. So don’t worry on that end. My dad was a cop. A good cop. And proud of it too. He was forced to retire early, though, because of a bout of cancer that he eventually won.”

  Abruptly he turned back to the screen, but the warmth of his palm lingered on her skin. Just as quickly, Skye faced the computer, suddenly overwhelmed with admiration and another, indefinable emotion building inside her chest.

  She liked David. Beneath the smooth-talking flirt was a man with loyalty, a man who valued his family, a man she could become very fond of.

  Nope. She wasn’t going there. ‘Like’ was fine. ‘Like’ was as deep as she was going to get when it came to this relationship.

  His leg brushed against her thigh, and his shoulder, far too wide and muscular, pressed against her own as he leaned closer to scan the article. As he worked the mouse with an agile hand, the tendons of his forearm rippled with each click and sweep of the mouse.

  Skye inhaled an unsteady breath as the warmth of his body blanketed her in a layer of growing awareness. Being this close reminded her of the other evening and the way he’d kissed her.

  Tender. Knowing. Experienced.

  Okay. She needed to pull her thoughts from David and her unwanted attraction toward him.

  She shifted to the right and closer to the screen, which added a few more inches of blessed space between them. Ruthlessly she forced her attention back to the computer. Sexual fantasies would only get her into deep trouble.

  Skye scanned the article of the explosion, frowning on why such an irrelevant piece would be pulled up by using ‘foster home’ as a keyword search.

  While David guided the mouse, the screen scrolled downward. On the right corner, several words superimposed into her brain.

  “No. Wait!”

  Skye caught his wrist. The rough texture of his hair, the muscles beneath her fingers punctuated his masculinity and sent a new wave of awareness skittering across her senses. Unnerved at her reaction, she released her grip.

  At the glare from a woman with thick-framed glasses and white tuffs of hair, Skye cleared her throat and said in a lower voice. “Look.” She tapped on the screen and avoided David’s questioning gaze. “Another explosion happened at this pharmaceutical company fifteen years ago. The place—Miltronics—is on the outskirts of Boston. Even more interesting is that the blast affected a nearby foster home.”

  David clicked the hyperlink that led into a more in-depth article. “Mmmm. It looks like chemicals from Miltronics leeched into the well water surrounding the facility. Even with the contaminated area being quickly contained, almost two dozen deaths happened a little after. All inexplicable. About half were elderly and the other half were children. And get this—the children who died—they were all from a nearby foster home.”

  Spine snapping into a rigid line, Skye searched the article hungrily. “And the foster home? Is there a name?”

  “October House.”

  He whispered the words, thick with unease. A sudden chill peppered her exposed skin as the air-conditioner kicked on and air surged through the room.

  David murmured, “That name...”

  “...sounds f
amiliar.”

  Their gazes locked across the short distance between them. Tension thickened to a palatable degree. The room and the people faded from Skye’s peripheral vision, while sounds lowered to an indecipherable buzz.

  “October House,” she said the words aloud, savoring them, testing the syllables on her tongue. The name tasted bitter, foul.

  She glanced at the screen and the image of the home. The place was surrounded by a wrought iron fence and a yard filled with dead, overgrown grass. Skye wondered if the fence’s spiked tips were a way to keep people in or out? The place looked uninviting, from the steep, faded gray roof to the three stories of red and battered brick. Windows, many with boards painted dirty rust, stared at her with knowing, mysterious eyes.

  Simple, old, and not so innocent. But vaguely familiar.

  She closed her eyes and superimposed the picture’s image inside her head. Taking in a steadying breath, she focused on the house, grasping for a hint of what the interior rooms looked like, for a memory of other children or teachers in the halls.

  A shadowed bedroom with twin beds lifted from the gray mist. Skye closed her eyes tighter, desperate for a clue, a picture of a past.

  The murmur of voices. Children—

  Reptilian eyes snapped into focus. A creature with a grotesque, green head thrust its face inches from her own. Hatred spewed from the depths of its diamond-like pupils. Slowly, almost as if the thing drew pleasure from terrorizing her, the creature opened its mouth. Incisors, sharp enough to rip open flesh with one savage bite and twist, glowed white. Drool slithered from the cavernous mouth.

  My God!

  Opening her eyes, Skye cried out and jerked back in her seat. Fear launched her heart into a wild crescendo as she grabbed the arms of her chair. She was half conscious of people glancing her way, but she didn’t care. The threat of the image still bombarded her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and rubbed her brow. Still, her heart continued to thump wildly inside her chest.

  “Skye, talk to me,” David urged, his voice thick with concern as he caught both her hands and cradled them inside his much larger ones.

  Did she dare trust him enough with this? The sincerity in his face didn’t look staged. But would he believe her? She’d never told anyone.

  She disliked the way her hands trembled inside his, and how it revealed her tenuous control and vulnerability. The fear was too real and raw to mask. She cleared her throat, hesitated a moment, then said, “Whenever I try to remember any great detail of my childhood this thing appears inside my head. It’s this sick, creature with yellow, reptilian eyes. Every time it happens, I swear I’m about to have a panic attack.”

  “Are you talking about a lizard?”

  “Yes.” She stared at her hands still encased in his and watched how his thumb swept gently across her knuckles. She waited for some scoffing remark, a derisive laugh.

  “But it doesn’t look quite like a lizard, does it?”

  Her quick intake of breath rasped against her lungs. “No...”

  “More like an alien than anything else.”

  “How do you know that? How could you know that?”

  David’s grip on her hands tightened, and he shifted in his chair until his knees touched hers. “Because I have the same images.”

  Her eyes widened. She clutched at his hands. “My God. What does that mean?”

  He pressed her palms down on her knees and rubbed their backs before holding them in place. “I don’t know,” he murmured, “but I can tell you it’s not good.”

  Skye sat unmoving, unable to comprehend a rational tie between aliens and the two of them. It was all too bizarre to take in.

  “You’ve been telling me the truth all this time.” David’s deep, husky whisper draped over her senses.

  Having someone else believe her was a salve to her battered soul, it soothed, it nurtured, it made her believe once again in herself. The idea of not being eternally alone turned the rigid muscles in her arms and legs into trembling appendages.

  She blinked back tears. “Yes, I have.”

  For the first time, Skye saw belief in his brown eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His simple apology chipped at her composure far more than any derisive comment could have.

  She took in a steadying breath, finding herself growing weak from the understanding and compassion in his eyes. Now was not the time to get all emotional.

  “You know,” David mused, “the odds of the two of us encountering an alien is astronomical.”

  “Just as astronomical as having telekinesis.”

  David withdrew his hands and rested them on his thighs. He shook his head, while skepticism creased his brow. “But what the hell does it all mean? The idea of alien abductions is outright crazy.”

  “Maybe, but I won’t know until I uncover the secrets of the house and the explosion at Miltronics.” Skye glanced back at the screen and knew October House held far more depth than the two-dimensional image staring back at her.

  “What are you planning?”

  “To go back to Boston, of course. Will you come with me?” The question hung in the air, and Skye couldn’t do a thing to take it back. Stupid. So stupid. She should never have asked.

  The gentleness in his face evaporated and a cool veneer settled over his features. “I’m not interested in digging up my past.”

  “Even for the truth?” She couldn’t believe he’d willingly let go of a history filled with lies.

  “Even if I wanted to, after all these years, it’ll be impossible to find anything. Too many children, too many false paths to investigate.”

  A noise from outside stopped Skye from arguing. The sound carried over the hum of the computers and rustle of papers.

  A shout broke into the library air.

  Skye glanced over at Tyler’s chair.

  He’d disappeared.

  Chapter 13

  David flinched as another cry echoed into the room. Dread scurried across his flesh. He shot to his feet and met Skye’s alarmed gaze. “What the hell?”

  She launched herself from her chair, knocking the metal and plastic to the floor with a clang. Her shoes squealed against the tile.

  He banged a shin against the leg of her chair in his hurry to get across the room. Skye was faster and reached the exit as Tyler whipped around the doorway. The boy slammed into her.

  “Mom. Mom!”

  She stumbled back and caught Tyler’s arms to steady the both of them as several people rushed from the room. The boy’s flushed face and wild eyes stoked David’s alarm. David strode up beside Skye and placed a reassuring hand against the small of her back.

  “What is it?” David asked.

  “It’s Mr. Bishop.

  David’s breath hissed into his lungs and his fingers latched onto the fabric of Skye’s shirt and twisted. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s on the second floor fighting with this man.” Tyler gulped in a lungful of air. A shudder raced through his frame as he clutched Skye’s elbow. “They started arguing. And this man—this man grabs Mr. Bishop—”

  David brushed passed both of them, stepped through the threshold and into the main section of the building. He rushed across the large expanse of floor and around several people forming a small crowd. They were all peering along the balcony of the second floor. He glanced up and to the left.

  Oh, shit.

  Pain tore savagely into his chest.

  His dad’s upper torso rested precariously over the railing, while a large man draped over him like some dark, violent angel. The man shoved his father further over the metal bar. His dad snatched at air, then grappled with the man’s shoulders.

  The silent struggle lasted seconds.

  With one quick twist of movement, the man flung his father over the metal railing. David didn’t have any time to act or react with any strategy. Panic splintered his ability to focus all his energy on his telekinesis. He pulled what
power he could and wrapped it around his father in an attempt to levitate him.

  It wasn’t enough.

  His dad slammed against the cement floor. The sickening thump echoed against the large room.

  “He’s got a gun!” A woman yelled on the outskirts of the crowd.

  Chaos erupted. People pushed, shoved in the opposite direction of David. He didn’t see a gun. He didn’t care. He needed to get to his dad.

  Two steps. Eight. Another five and he dropped to his knees at his father’s side in horror.

  “Dad!”

  His father lay on the floor as if broken. His leg twisted at the knee in the opposite direction than it should. David’s gaze skirted away and searched desperately for movement to reveal a sign of life.

  Nothing.

  Blinking back a wave of faintness, he moved his mouth, but numbness cemented the words against his throat.

  Earlier, David had been such a bastard. He couldn’t take back the callous words he’d thrown at his father.

  Now it might be too late for apologies. Any excuse seemed lame and hollow. Shame squeezed around his chest.

  “They’ve called an ambulance.”

  David nodded sharply, knowing Skye’s gentle voice and words were meant to soothe. He wanted to go after the attacker, but he couldn’t leave his dad lying broken on the floor alone and without family. David also didn’t dare move him for fear of a spinal injury with the odd angle to his dad’s leg.

  “Come on, Dad. Hang in there.”

  Still nothing. Fear bubbled up his throat and threatened to choke the breath from his lungs.

  Wait. No. Right there. This time David noticed the slight rise and fall of his chest.

  Jesus. Thank God.

  David covered his father’s spotted and worn hand with his own. Warmth, not the chill of death, stole against his palm.

  But for how long?

  As he watched the paramedics wheel in a gurney, David was forced to back away so the two-man team could do their job.

  He couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt this damn helpless.

  ~~*~~

  Peter wrapped his hand around the steering wheel, pleased at the steadiness of his grip as he followed the ambulance from the library. With his other hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, which still itched from the shoulder-length wig he’d yanked off minutes earlier.