Elusive Identities

by Olivia Jaymes

  "Anything. For example, do you like sports? Or what's your favorite food? What's your favorite movie? I just thought it might be nice to know a little bit about each other since we're going to be spending so much time together."

  That was a reasonable request, although he was still wondering if inviting her along had been a wise move. But that's how he was, a little impetuous. Knox had complained about it but then Chris thought that Knox analyzed everything to death. They were two sides of the same coin.

  "I do like sports," Chris replied, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. "I played football and baseball in high school. My favorite food is steak, medium rare, and my favorite movie is Die Hard. Now it's your turn."

  "Um...okay. That was succinct. I don't really like sports all that much. I can watch it on television but I'd rather read a book. My favorite food is sushi and my favorite movie is Titanic."

  "Sushi," Chris echoed. "Raw fish is your favorite food?"

  If he thought she'd take offense, he was way off base. She only laughed and popped a fry into her mouth. "Hey, I didn't say anything about your movie choice. Die Hard? I mean...really? It's so cliché."

  "What's cliché? It's a great movie."

  "A renegade lone wolf cop movie. That's cliché. And it's a good movie. I wouldn't say it's a great movie."

  He pointed to himself, ignoring her use of the words good and great. "You think I'm a renegade lone wolf cop? You couldn't be further from the truth. I'm a team player all the way."

  "Oh really? You didn't look very chummy with your partner this morning. There were definite icicles between the two of you."

  Chris hadn't thought anyone would notice the tension between him and Knox. He was trying to keep his personal feelings out of his work.

  "I don't know what you mean. He's not my partner, actually. We're just supposed to be helping each other if needed. Ultimately I'm responsible for this case. Not Knox."

  "See? Lone wolf." She playfully shook a fry at him. "And you do know what I mean. You and Knox don't seem to get along very well. It was obvious to anyone paying attention."

  He could only hope that no one at work would pay any attention then.

  "Knox and I have a history," Chris admitted. "But it doesn't affect how we do our jobs."

  Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect "O". "I see. I didn't realize you two had been a...couple."

  What in the ever-loving hell was this woman talking about?

  He slapped his forehead with his hand and sighed. Loudly. "We were not a couple. We were co-workers and then he became my boss for awhile. We didn't see eye to eye so I quit. End of story. There was no coupledom or romance or anything like that."

  "You worked for him?"

  "I did," Chris confirmed. "We were both deputies for the Montana town of Fielding.”

  “Montana? Are you a cowboy?”

  “No.”

  “Do you ride a horse?”

  “Yes.”

  “I bet you’re a cowboy. Now tell me about you and your partner.”

  What a strange conversation.

  “We worked for Jared Monroe who now is one of the partners in the consulting firm where I work now. Then Jared left Fielding and Knox became the sheriff."

  "And you were mad that you didn't get the job?"

  Chris really didn't want to talk about this but here they were.

  "No, not at all. I was too inexperienced at the time to take over that job. Knox has been a cop much longer than me."

  "So you left because you didn't like working for him?"

  She seemed to be getting it. Finally.

  "That's right. I had other opportunities so I quit and moved on."

  Cocking her head, she gazed at Chris for a long moment. "What happens if he gets promoted over you and you work for him again?"

  Christ on a unicycle, he couldn't imagine that happening. It just couldn't happen. No. No way.

  "That's not a possibility."

  "You sound very sure."

  "I am very sure. Can we change the subject now?"

  She took a bite of her burger and nodded. "Sure we can. Why don't you tell me why you became a cop and then now a consultant?"

  "I can certainly tell that you're a reporter. You like to ask questions."

  "I do."

  With raised brows, she waited for him to answer. He had to give it to her, she didn't mess around. She just jumped in with both feet, pummeling him with questions.

  "You missed your calling. You should have been a police interrogator."

  That made her smile. "I'm still young. I could change career paths."

  There was silence again. He hadn't distracted her.

  "I became a cop because my old man was one."

  "In Montana?"

  "In Montana," he replied. "In fact, he's still a working sheriff."

  "That must have been a little scary growing up with a father as a cop."

  "What, are you my therapist now?" He sat back and patted his full stomach. "I didn't really think about it at the time. He was just Dad and he went off to work like every other kid's dad."

  "Still it had to be difficult having a cop for a dad. I bet you didn't get away with anything when you were a kid."

  How wrong Ella Scott was.

  "You'd lose that bet," he said with a laugh. "I was a hellion and I made my parents' lives hell for a while. Even as a child, I couldn't seem to sit still. Every summer I broke something and had to wear a cast. Every year in school I'd just scrape by with terrible grades. I raised hell in high school with my buddies, drinking and playing poker. Later, I drank too much and got into fights. My sister Emily was the sane one. She got good grades and went to art school. I got tattoos and a bad reputation."

  He didn't imagine the way her gaze swept over him nor the way her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

  Ella Scott was wondering where his tattoos were located. She might also be wondering if he was still a bad boy. Was she attracted to those kinds of guys? He hadn't pictured her as the type. He'd have thought she'd go for more of the country club type. A guy that played golf and traded stock tips with his buddies. The kind of guy that he wasn't. He didn't know shit about the stock market and golf put him to sleep.

  "What about you, Ella?"

  Chris seemed genuinely interested in Ella's life, to her surprise. He wasn't asking to be polite or because he thought it was expected of him. Her last boyfriend - an attorney - hadn't been interested in anything much except himself. She should have figured out way sooner that he was completely self-absorbed but he was so good at acting like he gave a shit about her life that she'd been convinced for a long time.

  Eventually she'd noticed that he never asked her any follow-up questions or that he never remembered what she'd told him the last time about a subject. It became so bad that whenever she opened her mouth, he'd get a faraway look in his eyes. She could practically see him mentally checking out to Tahiti with a bunch of scantily clad girls gathered around him. The only time he'd pay attention to her is when they talked about him. The latest word was that he was dating another lawyer and Ella had to wonder how that woman was dealing with a man that was so self-absorbed.

  Hold the phone. Why am I comparing Chris to my last boyfriend? He's not even a friend, really.

  "I'm not sure what to say," she said, taking a sip of her soda to gather her thoughts. "I had a pretty boring childhood. I didn't do anything wild like you did. No drinking or playing poker. I guess you could say I was a good student and I tried not to give my parents any trouble."

  A slow smile grew on Chris's handsome face. "I bet you were a cheerleader."

  Ella could feel the heat in her cheeks. "So what if I was?"

  He was openly laughing now, his blue eyes sparkling. "I knew it. You were a cheerleader in high school."

  "You don't like cheerleaders?"

  "Not like them? I loved them. I dated most of them at one time or another. I told you I played football."

  "Let me guess...
you were the quarterback?"

  "I was."

  She should have known.

  "Were you any good?"

  She'd blurted out the question without thinking about its double meaning. Damn, it kind of sounded dirty when she said it in her head.

  Clearly, Chris was thinking the same thing. His cheeks were red but not from embarrassment. Hell no. He was loving this line of conversation. Asshole.

  "Let's just say that I got the job done."

  Another double entendre. Ella cleared her throat and then took another drink of her soda, hoping to cool herself off. It was so hot in this place. They'd turned the heat on far too high.

  Change the subject.

  "And then I went to college. I've always wanted to be an investigative journalist."

  Until this case, however, that's not how she would have described her job.

  "You said you've never done a murder case before. What kind of stories have you done?"

  Sighing, she slumped back in her chair. She could lie but that wasn't in her nature.

  "I wish you hadn't asked me that. I've never really had a story I could sink my teeth into. Not until now. My boss keeps assigning me fluff pieces like dog shows and charity three-legged races."

  "They have three-legged races for charity?"

  "They do," she confirmed. "You wouldn't believe some of the stories I've covered. I would beg to be assigned to something serious but Galen always said that the public loved my human interest pieces. I'm a victim of my own success. I even get fan mail."

  "That sounds...creepy. Yep, creepy. And strange. To think about all the people that see you on television every day and then write to you."

  It could be creepy. Luckily, most of the time it was fine.

  "They think they know me because they see me so often."

  One of his brows lifted. "Do you get some jerks writing to you?"

  She had a feeling he was trying to be a gentleman about the subject.

  "If you're asking if I get dick pics the answer is yes."

  "I never understand why guys do that," Chris declared with a grimace. "I had a buddy that would do that to women. When I asked him why he was doing it, he couldn't explain it. I also asked him if it had ever worked with a woman and he admitted that it hadn't. I just told him that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome."

  "So he stopped?"

  "No. He said he didn't know what I meant. He's still single, by the way. None of us are losing any sleep wondering why."

  She couldn't help but giggle at the story. She was having a good time with Chris. In fact, she was enjoying herself more with him than she had with her ex the entire last six months they'd dated.

  Nope. Don't go there. You're working with him. Keep it businesslike.

  "So you went to college," Chris prompted. "And became a journalist. Except that you don't get to do any stories that you want to do. Is that about right? Why do you keep doing it then? Why haven't you changed jobs?"

  She didn't even have to think about her answer. Sadly, she knew it all too well.

  "The state of journalism," she replied crisply. "It's not doing well if you haven't noticed. Originally I wanted to be a newspaper reporter and I was hired to work at one but then there were cutbacks. I tried to get another job but newspapers aren't hiring these days. I was lucky to get the job at the station after I was laid off. Really lucky. Some of my friends that went to journalism school are doing other things these days. I don't suppose you subscribe to a newspaper?"

  "I don't," Chris admitted, rubbing his stubbled chin. "But I just moved here about a month ago and I haven't even fully unpacked. I tell you what...I promise to subscribe to a local paper, okay? Just as soon as I unpack my dishes."

  Another blush - this one not as bad - crawled up her cheeks. "I wasn't pushing. I guess I do get up on a soapbox about it, though. I mean, how do people expect news when they're not willing to pay for it?"

  Shit, I did it again.

  "I'm sorry," Ella rushed to say before he spoke. "I'll shut up now. I swear I'm done talking. I'll be quiet. Because I know that I'm a pain in the ass about this. I just need to keep my mouth shut."

  This time she did shut up, snapping her lips together and pretending to zip them closed before throwing away the key.

  Chris leaned forward, a smile playing on his lips. "Ella, would it make you feel better if I walk outside and buy a paper from the machine out front? Because I will if you want me to."

  She lifted her hand from where she'd placed it over her mouth.

  "You don't have to. I'm done."

  Them she smacked her hand back so the bottom of her face was covered. Maybe he wouldn't see the color in her cheeks.

  "Maybe we should just talk about the case."

  The case? Yes, that was a good idea. It would keep it all on a professional level too. She was having far too good of a time with this man.

  "Yes, let's do that. Do you have a plan for the next steps?"

  "I'm going to keep going through the missing person files and tomorrow morning I'm going to meet with the man that found Jane's body. Robert Trask. Did you want to come along?"

  Absolutely. She had so many unanswered questions about Jane Doe.

  And herself. Were they related? Did she dare take the step to find out?

  11

  Jared had given Chris some background on Robert Trask but had also said that he was still digging for more. Stay tuned. What he had given described a self-made millionaire in Seattle real estate.

  Basically Robert Trask had been born lucky.

  His family had purchased land around the city and as Seattle had expanded the price of the land had skyrocketed. As the last remaining Trask, he'd profited big and parlayed that money into buying and selling stocks and bonds. He'd done well enough that he didn't have to work for a living if he didn't want to. From what Chris could see in the file...he didn't want to.

  Chris didn't blame the guy. If he'd hit the financial jackpot he might spend a little more time fishing and camping than working.

  "Fancy," he said as they drove through the gates of the community where Robert Trask lived. The neighborhood was tucked near Washington Park and every one of the homes had to be several million dollars. "I couldn't even afford the property taxes on these places."

  "Neither could I," Ella laughed. "I had two roommates before I took this housesitting job. What about you? How many roommates do you have?"

  "Just one, and only part of the time. My daughter Annie. She's nine."

  "Oh. I didn't realize you had a child."

  "I guess I didn't mention it. Sorry about that. I'm just used to living in a small town where everyone knows your business."

  Apparently Ella had not pictured him as a parent because she appeared quite shocked.

  "I'm divorced," he went on, trying to explain without going into personal details. "She got remarried and moved here, so I did, too. You know...to be closer to Annie, not my ex-wife."

  He chuckled at the thought of moving anywhere to be closer to Stacey. That wasn't going to happen. They managed to get along fine as long as they kept their distance from one another. Too much togetherness was an issue.

  Parking the car in front of a large two-story home, he pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed through his photos. They were almost exclusively of Annie. He held up the phone for Ella's perusal.

  "This is Annie."

  "She's pretty." Ella accepted the cell and smiled as she paged through the photos. "She dances? That's so sweet."

  "She's pretty excited about that, too. She gets to wear a purple sparkly outfit for the recital. That's her new favorite color."

  Ella handed back the phone. "She looks like you."

  "Nah, she looks like her mom."

  "No, really she does. Around the eyes and mouth. She definitely looks like you. Of course, she could look like your ex, too." She looked up at the house. Neither of them had moved to get out of
the car. "So how do you want to play this? Like a good cop, bad cop thing?"

  Now it was Chris's turn to laugh. "What do you know about good cop, bad cop? Hell, no. We'll play it straight and honest. That's always the best way to go into a situation. Most of them, anyway. There are exceptions, of course. If Wade's report is to be believed, and I don't have any reason not to believe it, Robert Trask found the body and that was pretty much it. He doesn't know anything more and we're probably wasting our time here today, but that's the nature of working cold cases."

  "Have you worked a lot of them?" she asked as they exited the vehicle. "Cold cases, I mean."

  "A few. Every police force has a couple stuffed in dusty drawers or file cabinets. You work on them when you have time, which is almost never. That's why they rarely get solved. Time goes by. Witnesses die or their memories fade. Evidence goes missing. It's an uphill battle for sure."

  "But you like it."

  "I do." He reached out and pressed the doorbell. "Because it's a challenge. I wouldn't want to make a career of cold cases but I do like working them when I can."

  They heard the shuffle of feet on the other side of the door and then it swung open, revealing an attractive middle-aged woman dressed in casual jeans and a sweater. Her hair was dark and long, and her face perfectly made up. On her left hand she wore a huge diamond ring and band.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Good morning, ma'am. I'm Chris Marks and this is my associate Gabriella Scott. We have an appointment to speak with Robert Trask."

  The woman's eyes widened as she gazed at Ella. "You're that woman from television. I saw you reporting from that seafood festival a few weeks ago. Right after that I had Bobby take me out for shrimp."

  "That's me." Ella gave a weak smile. "I hope you enjoyed your shrimp dinner."

  "It was delicious." The woman seemed to suddenly remember why they were there. "Please come in. Bobby mentioned that you were stopping by. I'm his wife Diane, by the way. Nice to meet you."

  She opened the door wider and stepped back so they could enter. The foyer was done all in marble tile and the air instantly felt cooler in that room even though it wasn't warm outside.