Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's SonThe Brother's WifeThe Long-Lost Heir

by Amanda Stevens

  “It wasn’t just that,” Hope said. “I sometimes think it had more to do with you than it did with me. Because you were the man I had fallen in love with. Because you had something he didn’t. He hated you, Jake. It sometimes scared me how much he hated you.”

  “He wasn’t exactly on my Top Ten list, either,” Jake said. “But what does any of this have to do with Michael Eldridge’s feelings for you?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Hope said. “Maybe…everything.”

  “You’d better explain that.”

  “I hardly know where to start.” She got up and paced to the kitchen window, staring out at the tiny backyard Jake’s father had turned into his own private garden. “You’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Why don’t you try me?”

  She turned, toying with the pearl button at the top of her blue sweater. “You’ve seen him for yourself, Jake. You know how much he looks like Andrew. How much he acts like Andrew.”

  A tiny buzzing in Jake’s ears sounded a warning, but he ignored it. He had to hear this, no matter how much it might hurt. “Go on.”

  “If he really is Adam Kingsley, then that explains why he looks so much like Andrew. Identical twins, even raised apart, would still bear a strong resemblance to each other, might even look exactly like each other. But…that doesn’t explain his mannerisms. The reason why he walks like Andrew, talks like Andrew. Uses the same words Andrew would use…” She drew a long breath. “It doesn’t explain the way he looks at me.”

  “You think he is Andrew,” Jake said, almost accusingly.

  Hope closed her eyes briefly. “I know it’s crazy. But there’s something about him…something that sends cold chills through me every time I look at him. Every time he looks at me. Jake, what if Andrew didn’t die in that car crash—”

  He crossed the distance between them in two strides and took hold of her arms, forcing her to face him. “Andrew is dead, Hope. He’s dead.”

  “But I didn’t see his body, and neither did you. You said yourself there wasn’t an autopsy—”

  “Plenty of people saw Andrew dead. The Shepherd authorities, the EMTs, doctors and nurses at the hospital. You said Victor Northrup identified the body.”

  This last seemed to jolt her. Her gaze shot back up to his. He saw a glimmer of something he couldn’t identify in her eyes. “That still doesn’t explain the picture.”

  “What picture?”

  “The one he has in his room…of me.”

  Jake realized he still held her arms and that his grip had tightened. He forced his hands to drop to his sides. “What were you doing in Eldridge’s room?”

  She glanced up at him. “I went there to search it.”

  “You what?” He glared at her incredulously. “I don’t have to tell you how stupid that was, do I? Hope, for all we know, this man is dangerous. A homicidal maniac or worse.”

  She laughed shakily. “What could be worse than a homicidal maniac?”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to know. Just what the hell were you thinking?”

  “I thought I might find a clue to his real identity, okay?” She glared up at him defiantly. “Something that might help us in the investigation. What I found was a picture of me. A newspaper clipping of me leaving the cemetery after Andrew’s burial. He…oh, God, Jake. He’d framed it.” The last traces of defiance drained from her face, and what Jake saw was a woman very much afraid. Not for her life, he suspected, but for her peace of mind.

  “I found it in his drawer, under some socks. Then I heard him coming back. He was right outside the door before I realized it. I shoved the picture back inside the drawer and hid in the closet.” When Jake would have said something else, she held up her hand. “It’s okay, he didn’t find me. He’d only come back because he’d forgotten his wallet. But before he left again, he went over to the bureau and took out the picture. I saw him…” She faltered, glancing away, not quite able to meet Jake’s eyes. “I saw him kiss my picture,” she finished in a whisper.

  Something closed over Jake’s heart. A knot of fear. A fist of rage. I’ll kill him, he thought. I’ll kill him before I’ll let him touch you.

  “What did you do?” he asked with as much calm as he could muster.

  Hope shrugged. “Nothing. I just felt sick. I waited until he’d left, and then I went back to my room as fast as I could.” She paused again, as if summoning her own calm. “What do you make of all this?”

  “I don’t know.” The image of Hope’s face against Eldridge’s lips—Andrew’s lips—was something Jake couldn’t quite dispel. He took a few steps away from her, staring out at the gathering darkness in his father’s backyard. “Was your wedding videotaped?”

  He wasn’t looking at her, but he could sense her shock and confusion at his question. “Why?”

  “Just answer the question, and then I’ll explain.”

  “Yes, it was. In fact, it caused a big row between Andrew and Iris. She said videotaping such a sacred ceremony was vulgar, but Andrew insisted. He said he wanted to capture the happiest moment of our lives on tape so that years later, we could share it with our children. He assured Iris he would hire a professional, someone who would blend in with the guests and we’d hardly know he was there.”

  “Did you ever see the tape?”

  Hope shook her head. “I asked Andrew about it a few times, but he said it was too soon to look at it. It would be better if we waited until some sort of milestone in our marriage, like our tenth anniversary. By then, of course, neither of us cared to see it. At least, I didn’t.” She paused. “Jake, what’s this about?”

  He hadn’t wanted to tell her about the videotape in Eldridge’s VCR, but now he didn’t have a choice. She had to know what she was dealing with here. When he explained, the color drained from her face. “If he isn’t Andrew, how did he get that tape?”

  “Any number of ways,” Jake said. “Whoever Andrew hired to tape the wedding could have kept a copy for himself, thinking he could peddle it to the tabloids. I don’t know how it might have come into Eldridge’s possession, but I do know this. There is a Michael Eldridge. I talked to too many people in Houston who knew him.”

  She still didn’t look convinced. “If he is Michael Eldridge, nothing more than a stranger, why would he have that tape and that picture of me?”

  Jake shrugged. The obvious answer wasn’t one he much cared to explore. “He must have studied the Kingsleys for some time, figuring out the best way to approach Iris. Maybe he became…interested in you in the process.” He would have said fixated. Obsessed. But then he might have had to explore his own psyche a little too closely.

  “What about the blonde?” Hope asked, changing the subject so quickly, Jake knew she was have trouble dealing with the explanation as well.

  “She is definitely a connection between Eldridge and Andrew,” Jake said. “It was no coincidence she was at Eldridge’s door. Someone sent her there for that videotape. And she was with Andrew the night he died.”

  “Are you implying she may have had something to do with the car crash? That Andrew’s death—”

  “May have been murder,” Jake finished bluntly.

  “Dear God.” He didn’t think her face could go any whiter; but for a moment, he thought she might actually pass out. He reached for her, but Hope waved away his hand. It seemed a point of pride with her that she handle this, that she not succumb to her fear. That she not depend on him for strength.

  “We talked about this before.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve never thought Eldridge was working alone, and now we know for sure there are at least four other people involved in this thing. The blonde, the two men in the warehouse, and the `boss’ they talked about. And, of course, something called the Grayson Commission.”

  “You told me once that an attorney in Victor Northrup’s firm was from Houston, that he’d defended Michael when he was a teenager. You thought he might have been the one to mention to Victor or to Jeremy that
he had a client who looked like Andrew. Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah. And I still say that’s a likely possibility,” Jake said.

  “There was one other person he might have mentioned the look-alike to.”

  Jake glanced at her warily. There was something in her tone he didn’t like. “Who?”

  Her gaze met his. “Andrew. Supposing the attorney saw Andrew in Victor’s office and told him how much he looked like his Houston client? Supposing Andrew is the one who filed that tidbit away until one day when he was desperate, fearing for his life from Simon Pratt. What if he thought he could switch places with Michael Eldridge so that Pratt couldn’t find him? Then by coming here and pretending to be Adam, he could still be the Kingsley heir. He could still live in luxury and still have Iris’s adoration. And he might even be able to win me back. That would explain the picture and the videotape. That would explain so many things,” she finished softly.

  Jake’s gaze hardened on her. “How far are you willing to take this, Hope?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A body was recovered from that crash. If it was Andrew’s double, then someone had to have made the switch. Someone had to have killed the real Michael Eldridge. Do you believe Andrew capable of murder?”

  “I’ll see you both dead first.”

  Andrew’s words echoed through Hope’s mind. An empty threat, she’d thought at the time; but the look in his eyes had come back to haunt her. He would have done anything to keep her away from Jake. Hope had no doubt about that. Rage and obsession were powerful motivators, but Andrew had an even stronger one. The instinct for survival. If Simon Pratt had been closing in, how far would Andrew have gone to save himself? To win the ultimate game?

  She could almost hear him laughing at them now. The image was so strong she had to fight the childish inclination to cover her ears with her hands.

  “The scenario you’ve just outlined would have taken an incredible amount of planning to pull off,” Jake said. “Andrew couldn’t have done it alone. Someone with money and clout would have had to pull a lot of strings, bribe a lot of people, and that would make the risk of discovery fairly high. Do you know anyone like that, Hope?”

  She knew who he was getting at. Iris. The same thought had even crossed Hope’s mind. But the status and power of the Kingsley name meant everything to Iris, maybe even more than the family itself. Would she have been willing to risk losing all that she held dear to help her grandson pull off such an elaborate hoax?

  She’d adored Andrew, no question. And as fond as Hope was of Iris, she had no delusions about the Kingsley matriarch. Hope knew Iris had done things in her life that Hope herself probably wouldn’t approve of, might even find shocking. But there was no way Iris would ever be a party to murder. No matter what else she might have done.

  “What other choices do we have?” she asked.

  “There’s always good ol’ Jeremy and Mommy Dearest,” Jake said. “Although I haven’t ruled out Northrup. There’s something about that man I don’t trust, other than the fact that he’s Iris’s oldest and dearest friend. But regardless of who’s behind this scheme, it’s obvious that with Andrew out of the way, an impostor would have a much greater chance of worming his way into Iris’s affections.”

  “Pamela’s greedy and ambitious, and God knows, Jeremy is…strange enough. And I’ll admit Victor is a little on the slick side. But to commit murder. To kill Andrew in cold blood…” She shuddered.

  “There is another possibility,” Jake said. “Maybe Michael Eldridge really is Adam Kingsley. And he already knows it.”

  “But then where would the blonde come in? She’s the connection between Michael and Andrew. You think she may have had something to do with Andrew’s death. But if Michael knows he’s the real Adam Kingsley, why would he have his own brother killed?”

  “Do the math, Hope. One heir would inherit twice as much money as two.”

  Even though the evening was warm, Hope shivered. Somehow the notion of Adam Kingsley deliberately plotting to murder his identical twin—a brother he didn’t even know—for the Kingsley fortune was more chilling than anything they’d discussed so far.

  “I want you to stay away from him, Hope,” Jake warned, as if reading her mind. “Get out of that house. Now. Tonight. Go to your mother’s. Wherever. But don’t go back there.”

  “I can’t do that,” Hope said, even as she wished desperately to do exactly as Jake instructed.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because if he is Adam, if he killed his own brother to become the Kingsley heir, then what’s preventing him from killing Iris, so that the money becomes his immediately?”

  “Iris isn’t my primary concern at the moment,” Jake replied. “Damn it, Hope, be reasonable.”

  “I am being reasonable. She’s an old woman, Jake. Far more vulnerable than she wants to admit. Edward is completely useless, and Pamela and Jeremy… For all we know, they’re in on this thing. I can’t leave her to the wolves. You wouldn’t be able to, either.”

  Jake scowled as he glanced out into the darkness. “Okay. I guess you’re right. But for God’s sake, be careful. If you feel even a hint of danger, promise me you’ll get the hell out of there. Don’t try to take care of this yourself. Whoever these people are, they may already have killed once. I don’t think they’d hesitate to do so again.”

  * * *

  JAKE WALKED HOPE to the fringes of the Kingsley gardens, not daring to go any farther for fear they’d be seen together. The less anyone suspected Hope’s involvement in Jake’s investigation into Eldridge’s background, the safer she would be. And at the moment, Hope’s safety was all Jake cared about.

  The light had faded rapidly, but the moon was already up, a waning half-globe against a black velvet sky sprinkled with stars. They paused near a flowering bush that Jake couldn’t name, but the fragrance was as familiar as a lover’s perfume.

  He stared down into Hope’s upturned face and thought again how extraordinarily beautiful she was. How much he wanted to hold her. Keep her safe. Keep her all to himself.

  But tonight there was someone else in the garden with them. An invisible presence that kept them apart. That made Hope pull away from him even when he knew that she wanted him, too.

  Andrew is dead, goddamn it.

  But the doubt was still there in Hope’s eyes. And as long as she believed there was a chance her husband remained alive, Andrew would keep on winning. He would succeed in keeping them apart.

  “I’d better go,” she said softly. “Someone might see us.”

  When she would have turned away, Jake caught her arm and pulled her back to him. “Hope,” he said urgently. “Andrew is dead. You do know that, don’t you?”

  She hesitated, a part of her resisting his touch even as her eyes told him what he wanted to know. “That’s what I keep telling myself. But what if he’s not, Jake? What if he’s still alive? What if I’m still his wife?”

  “It wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference to me,” Jake said darkly.

  “But it would to me. And it certainly would to Andrew.”

  * * *

  HOPE SLIPPED THROUGH the gardens, trying to keep to the shadows, so that anyone looking out from one of the rear windows of the mansion wouldn’t see her returning from the direction of the gardener’s cottage. But as she skirted the edge of the pool, someone rose from one of the lounges. She gasped, her hand darting to her throat.

  Michael Eldridge, dressed in dark trousers and a collarless dark shirt that made him blend with the night, walked slowly toward her. He’d lit a fire in the brick hearth near the end of the pool, and the flickering flames reflected in his eyes and cast dark shadows across his face, making him look almost savage. Jake’s warning echoed in Hope’s ears.

  She laughed nervously. “Michael, you startled me. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.”

  He took another step toward her, and Hope had to fight the urge to turn and flee. A myriad o
f possibilities flashed through her mind—none of them comforting. Michael Eldridge/devious impostor. Michael Eldridge/the real Adam Kingsley. Michael Eldridge/Andrew.

  Michael Eldridge/murderer.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  Something in his tone sent a shiver of fear down Hope’s spine. She glanced up at him, trying to keep her expression from revealing her emotions. “Why?”

  “I heard from my boss down in Houston today. He said a private investigator from Memphis came around asking questions about me. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  “Why would I know?”

  “Let’s don’t play games.” His voice hardened. “Iris made her wishes clear to the family. She didn’t want me investigated. What do you think she would do if she found out you’d hired McClain, of all people, to snoop around in my business?”

  Hope forced a bravado into her tone she was far from feeling. “What makes you think I hired him? I imagine there are a lot of people who would like to know who you really are.”

  “The DNA tests results will be back soon. They’ll tell you everything about me you need to know.”

  “And if it turns out you aren’t Adam Kingsley?” Hope met his gaze without wavering. “Will you go back to Houston? Disappear from Iris’s life?”

  “If that’s what she wants.” He gazed down at her with a smile that sent a chill through Hope’s heart. “But Iris has become quite attached to me, you know. She has high hopes for my future. And for yours.”

  “You can leave me out of this,” Hope said. “Regardless of who you are, I’m not part of the equation. As soon as everything’s settled, I intend to find a place of my own.”

  “You really think it’ll be that easy? Just pack up and walk out, and leave the past behind you?” The flames in the hearth had died down, leaving his face more in shadow. “Life is rarely that simple, Hope. Iris has a way of getting what she wants. Or so I’ve been told.”