* * *
THEY RETURNED TO THE library after dinner for coffee and for the Big News. Hope glanced around the room, trying to ascertain whether anyone other than Victor knew for certain what the outcome was, but no one gave himself or herself away. The identity of Michael’s conspirators—if he had them—remained a mystery.
Finally, Iris set aside her cup and nodded to Victor who rose and took center stage near the fireplace. He removed an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and unfolded the contents.
“I’ll spare you Dr. Wu’s technical jargon,” he said, “and get right to the point. According to the extensive tests performed on the blood samples provided by Michael and posthumously by Andrew, Dr. Wu has concluded that the DNA is as close a match as is humanly possible to determine. The only way that these two blood specimens could not belong to identical twins is if the same donor provided both samples. And we know that didn’t happen. The blood was collected and sent from three separate locations—Michael’s from Dr. Tremayne at his clinic, Andrew’s from his private physician at Mercy General Hospital and from the Shepherd police. Therefore, it is Dr. Wu’s conclusion that Michael Eldridge is Adam Kingsley.”
There were no gasps or sputters of amazement. No one looked shocked, or even mildly surprised, and this in itself was astonishing to Hope. Not Iris’s reaction, of course. She’d made it clear from the first that she had no doubt about Michael’s identity.
But neither Jeremy or Pamela showed the slightest bit of surprise or even concern about the announcement, and Hope had to wonder again if they were the ones who had found Michael—Adam, she corrected herself—and brought him here. And to what end?
But if Jeremy and Pamela’s reaction was troubling, Edward’s response to the announcement was deeply moving. He sat quietly for a moment, as if it took him a bit longer than the others to take it all in, and then, setting his drink aside, he covered his face with his hands and wept.
Hope’s heart went out to him. She stood near his chair and wondered if she should go to him, try to comfort him. But Michael beat her to it. He rose swiftly and crossed the distance to Edward, kneeling beside him.
“It’s okay,” he said, as if soothing a child. “I’m home now. Everything will be all right.”
He lay his hand on Edward’s shoulder, but he was looking up at Hope. And he was smiling.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was nearly midnight before Hope was able to slip out of the house and make her way through the gardens to Jake’s father’s cottage. She still wore the lavender dress, but she’d removed Iris’s necklace and locked it in her jewel box before she left. Now she wished she’d thought to throw on a sweater. The night chill had fallen as heavily as the darkness.
She paused outside the door to the cottage, hesitant to knock for fear she would disturb Jake’s father. Finally, however, she rapped her knuckles as softly as she could against the wood, hoping that Jake would still be up and waiting for her.
The door opened almost instantly and he drew her inside. The warm coziness of the cottage wrapped around Hope like a downy blanket. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the way Jake looked at her.
“Is your father sleeping?” she asked quietly.
“He’s not here. He drove down to Oxford this afternoon to be with his sister. She’s having knee surgery tomorrow. He’s going to stay down there and take care of her for a few days.”
Hope glanced around the tiny living room, as if to dispute Jake’s words. “So…we’re alone?”
“Completely.” He reached out and drew his hand down the bare skin of her arm. Hope shivered again. “Don’t you want to know what happened tonight?”
“Dying to.” But his eyes told her he wanted to hear something else.
“The DNA tests proved that Michael is Adam. He really is a Kingsley.”
“Well,” Jake said, “we thought that might be the case.”
“I guess everyone else did, too. No one seemed surprised by the news.”
“Maybe because at least some of them already knew.” He paused for a moment, then tugged her ever so slightly toward him. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Andrew is really dead, Hope.”
She drew a long breath. “I know.”
“You aren’t married anymore.”
“I know that, too.”
“We’re both free.” He cupped her face with his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. “And now I think it’s time I kiss you.”
She smiled, her heart hammering inside her. “You’ve already done that.”
“I mean, really kiss you.”
“Oh…”
There was no time to say anything more because he bent swiftly and captured her lips with his, and Hope knew instantly what he meant. The other kisses they’d shared had only been preludes to this.
She closed her eyes, yielding to the temptation, letting the sensations sweep her away on a tide of romance and passion and the promise of what was to come.
Jake’s lips possessed hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, conquering her resistance. And then, as the heat built inside her, she conquered him, kissing him, touching him, whispering to him words she’d never thought to say aloud.
They somehow made it to his bedroom—the same room he’d had as a boy, with the window that looked out on the Kingsley mansion. A pang of sadness whispered over Hope as she thought about Jake gazing out that window, seeing her from a distance, thinking she belonged in a house where he would never be welcome.
He saw her tears in the moonlight and raised himself on one elbow to stare down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“When I think about what we had…all those wasted years…”
He wiped away her tears. “Don’t look back, Hope. Not on those years. Think about what we had before, what we shared. It’s still there. We didn’t lose it, we just misplaced it for a while. The fact is, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“Jake—”
He touched a fingertip to her lips, silencing her when she wanted so badly to tell him that she loved him, too; that she’d always loved him. But to admit that would seem like a betrayal of her marriage vows, something she still believed in and held sacred. Jake understood that. He knew her so well.
“I love you now,” she said. “And I loved you then.”
He bent to kiss her, softly at first. But then, as she wrapped her arms around him and molded her body to his, the heat began to build all over again.
“And that’s enough,” he said. “That’s everything.”
* * *
A DREAM AWAKENED HOPE. A nightmare, really. The images had been powerful. She was at Andrew’s funeral, but instead of a closed casket as it had been in reality, the lid of his coffin was open and she was gazing down at him, thinking how very peaceful he looked. And then suddenly, his eyes were staring into hers, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the casket. “I won’t let him have you,” he warned in a voice as cold and deadly as the grave. “I’ll see you both dead first.”
And then a faceless voice with an Oriental accent said, “The only way these two blood specimens could not belong to identical twins is if the same donor provided both samples… Provided both samples… Provided both samples…”
Hope had awakened in a cold sweat, that same phrase echoing in her head, as a growing horror dawned inside her.
What if Andrew had provided both of those samples? What if the reason Michael Eldridge had never been worried about the DNA tests was because he knew what the results would be?
He knew…because he was Andrew.
Hope put her hands to her face. No, she thought. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
But it was the only thing that made sense. Michael Eldridge was too much like Andrew. There was no way even an identical twin, especially one who had been raised apart, could be that much like Andrew.
Michael Eldridge was Andrew. He was still Hope’s husband. And she had just�
�
Her gaze flew to Jake’s sleeping form. He lay on his back, one arm hanging over the side of the bed, the other flung over his head, and she thought again how much she loved him, how much she needed him. What she had to do to protect him.
“I’ll see you both dead first.”
She had to get out of here before Andrew saw them. Before his rage consumed him.
As quietly as she could, Hope got up and slipped on the lavender gown, carrying the high-heeled sandals with her until she’d let herself out the front door. Then, after tugging on her shoes, she made her way through the gardens.
The night, so beautiful a short while ago, now grew heavy with Hope’s dread. What should she do? How could she find out the truth? How could she expose Andrew’s lies and deception without threatening Jake’s life?
She skirted the pool, trying to keep to the shadows, but just as he had the other night, Michael rose from one of the lounge chairs to startle her. She still couldn’t bring herself to call him Andrew, even in her mind. Somehow, if she still thought of him as Michael, he couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t hurt Jake.
He came toward her in the darkness, and Hope knew immediately something was different. She started to turn and run, but he lunged forward and caught her, spinning her around to face him in the moonlight.
“Who would have thought,” he said coldly, “that our little Hope, the very epitome of loyalty and sacrifice, would commit the ultimate sin against her marriage vows? You were with him tonight. Don’t try to deny it.”
Hope’s heart pounded in her ears. She tried to steady her nerves, but his eyes were so cold. As cold as the eyes in her dream. And just as deadly. “Why do you care?” she managed to ask him. “You’re Adam.”
From his pocket, he pulled out a gold chain, holding it up in the moonlight. A medallion, a one-sided coin, dangled from the chain, and Hope gasped as she recognized it. Iris had given the coins to Adam and Andrew on their third birthday. Andrew never took his off. He’d been wearing it the night he was supposedly killed.
“I never fooled you, did I, Hope? Everyone believed I was Adam, but not you. You knew. From the first, you knew we belonged together.”
Hope tried to struggle from his grasp, but he held her tighter, hauling her against him until she could hardly breathe. He ran a hand through her hair. “I want what’s mine,” he said. “I want what I’ve been waiting for for years.” He tried to kiss her, but Hope jerked her head away.
He laughed. “Maybe you won’t have quite so much fight in you once your lover is dead.”
Fear froze in her veins. She had to get away, warn Jake he was in danger. Michael…Andrew was a madman. Something had come unhinged inside him.
But even as she struggled to free herself, she saw another man coming toward them in the garden. At first she thought it was Jake and tried to cry out a warning, but Michael’s hand clamped over her mouth. Her fear deepened as the other man moved from the shadows into the moonlight, and she recognized him.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “Hurry up.”
Michael dropped his hand from her mouth long enough to pull a saturated cloth from his pocket. In the brief instant it took him to raise it to her face, Hope screamed. Then he slapped the cloth over her mouth and nose, stifling the noise, and panic bubbled up inside her. She couldn’t breathe. Within seconds the fumes overpowered her. Her knees buckled and she slipped silently to the ground.
* * *
JAKE CAME AWAKE instantly at Hope’s scream and bolted upright in bed. At first he thought he might have dreamed the sound, but the empty side of the bed where Hope had lain a short while ago spurred him into action. He jerked on his jeans and grabbed his gun, then crept through the house like a ghost.
Satisfied that the noise hadn’t come from inside, Jake opened the front door and slipped out. He paused for a moment, listening to the darkness. When he would have stolen through the gardens toward the main house, a voice beside him said, “We’ve got her. If you want to see her alive, drop the gun.”
Jake knew that voice. It was the same one he’d heard in the warehouse in Houston. He turned his head a fraction of an inch, and Jonas Thorpe came into view.
“Drop the gun,” he advised again. “Remember, I’ve got that itchy trigger-finger Pratt warned you about.”
This was the third time Thorpe had gotten the jump on him, and Jake swore inwardly. There would be a score to settle later, once Hope was safe. For now, though, he had little choice. His gun dropped to the ground.
“Now back inside,” Thorpe ordered, aiming his own weapon at Jake’s heart.
Jake slowly backed into the house. Once inside, Thorpe threw him a pair of handcuffs. “Appropriate for an ex-cop, don’t you think? Around your right wrist and the arm of the chair.” When Jake hesitated, Thorpe said, “You don’t want to make things any more uncomfortable for that pretty little girlfriend of yours, now do you?”
Jake sat down in the chair, but he didn’t fasten the handcuffs. “How do I know you have her?”
Thorpe fished in his pocket and produced the diamond clasp Hope had worn in her hair. “If you need more proof, I can bring you one of her fingers.”
“Where is she? I want to see her.” Even though his options were limited at the moment, Jake knew that if Hope had been harmed, he would find a way to make Thorpe pay. Thorpe could count on that.
“Put the handcuffs on and then we’ll talk,” Thorpe told him.
Jake slipped one of the cuffs over his wrist, then fastened the other to the arm of the chair.
Thorpe smiled. “That should slow you down if you decide to make a run for it.”
“Where’s Hope? If you’ve so much as touched her, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Thorpe propped his foot on a chair and folded his arms across his knee, keeping the gun pointed at Jake. “You’re not exactly in any position to be making threats, now are you?”
Jake glared at him. “What do you want?”
“Unfortunately for you, you’ll find that out soon enough.”
The front door of the cottage opened, and Michael Eldridge walked in. He still wore the tuxedo he’d had on earlier for dinner, but the tie was slightly askew and there were bits of leaves and grass on his pants.
“Everything all taken care of?” Thorpe asked.
Eldridge shrugged. “It soon will be. What about him?” He nodded toward Jake.
“I’m waiting to hear from the boss. Soon as I do, we move him.”
“Why don’t we take care of him now?” Eldridge’s eyes glinted dangerously. He pulled a gun from his pocket and walked over to Jake, aiming the barrel at his temple. He cocked the trigger. “I ought to kill you right now. When I think of you touching her—”
“Cut the jealous-husband routine,” Thorpe said impatiently. “You’re supposed to be Adam Kingsley, you idiot.”
Eldridge swung the gun toward Thorpe. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”
“All right, Einstein.”
“Where’s Hope?” Jake asked Eldridge. “What have you done to her?”
Eldridge grinned, and Jake thought the glimmer of madness in his eyes must have been what Clarence Donovan had glimpsed in Michael’s picture. “Nothing yet. I’m taking her back to where it all began. An appropriate ending for an adulteress, don’t you think?”
Jake surged toward Eldridge, but he had the advantage of not being bound to a chair. In a flash, he smashed the gun against Jake’s temple and Jake’s skull exploded with pain. He fell back against the chair, blood streaming down his face. His last conscious thought was that Hope had been right: Andrew had come back from the grave.
* * *
WHEN JAKE CAME TO, he found himself slumped in the seat of his Blazer, his right wrist handcuffed to the steering wheel. The window was down, and he could hear voices outside. He eased himself up, peering out into the darkness.
They appeared to be miles from the city. He could see the distant glow of lights, the silhouette o
f treetops against the sky, and below him, the glitter of moonlight on water.
His truck was parked on a high bluff overlooking the river. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what Thorpe had in store for him. One good nudge, and the Blazer would go over the cliff, plunging into the river with Jake trapped inside. They’d even thought to roll down the windows so the truck would sink faster.
The voices outside grew louder, as if they were arguing. Even as Jake’s mind worked frantically for a way to free himself, he strained to hear what they were saying.
“…sure he knew where to bring her? You made everything clear?” asked a cultured-sounding voice. A voice that definitely did not belong to Simon Pratt, as Jake had been expecting. He eased himself up a little higher.
Three people stood near the edge of the bluff, off to the left of the truck. Even though their backs were to him, Jake recognized Thorpe and the slender silhouette of a woman. The other man stood apart from those two, facing them, and Jake saw moonlight glinting in silver hair. The regal bearing and the cultured voice were unmistakeable.
Victor Northrup was the “boss” Jake had heard Thorpe and Benny talking about in Houston. But why the hell was Thorpe working for him instead of Simon Pratt?
“He knew where to come,” Thorpe said in response to Northrup’s question. He paused for a moment. “But he was acting crazy. Crazier than usual. I think he may have gone off the deep end this time.”
“Damn,” said Northrup. “I was counting on Hope to keep him in line.”
“You can forget that,” Thorpe said. “He’s convinced she’s betrayed him. I really think the crazy bastard believes he’s Andrew Kingsley.”
“He’s never been stable,” Northrup agreed. “And it didn’t help when, after years of training to become Andrew, he suddenly had to become Adam.”
What the hell were they talking about? Training to become Andrew and then had to suddenly become Adam? Was Eldridge an impostor after all?
Jake tried to process this information while he dug in his pocket for something metal. Years ago, he’d busted a small-time hoodlum named Tony the Greek who had a talent for picking just about any lock ever designed. After the third time he’d picked the lock on his handcuffs and escaped, Jake had hauled him back in and made him demonstrate the procedure. After a few tries with a paper clip, Jake had managed to open the cuffs himself. For his sake and Hope’s, he fervently hoped he still remembered how.
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