Borrowed Identity (13 page)

I
F A GENIE GRANTED HER
one wish, she would want to know what Michael was thinking. Up until now he had been a perfect gentleman. But they hadn’t shared a bed before. She wondered if the close proximity would change his behavior. Would he pull her into his arms as they slept? Did he want to make love to her?

A flush heated her cheeks. Excitement rolled through her in mighty waves. Would it be so bad if she made love to him? True, she couldn’t marry him, but they could have one perfect experience to remember. It sounded like heaven to her.

Kelly climbed under the covers, careful not to make eye contact with Michael. Every pulse point she had throbbed to life. She shut her eyes, anxiously waiting for the bed to sag.

She heard Michael lock the door.

Her ears strained to pick up his every movement. She tried to picture what he was doing. A soft rustling sound made her think he was removing his clothes, even though she had kept hers on. She tensed under the covers, waiting for his next move.

Michael settled in beside her and sighed deeply.

He didn’t try to touch her.

He didn’t speak to her.

Kelly was surprised at her own disappointment. She tried to relax her limbs. She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable spot.

After what seemed like long torturous hours, she finally drifted off to sleep….

She was floating on air. In the back of her mind she registered the fact that someone was carrying her. A smile tilted her mouth. Michael was carrying her away with him. It had to be Michael’s arms around her.

Who else could it be?

Chapter Eight

Michael?

Kelly woke with a start and glared at the clock. It was nearly noon. Her hand automatically reached out for him and found the other side of the bed vacant. Even though it was finally morning, her nightmare returned in a flash. The image of Michael dead in the closet sprang to mind. She jumped up, her eyes wide.

A startled gasp burst from her lips.

She inhaled deeply and screamed at the new terror.

Kelly was in her own bed, surrounded by at least twenty white candles. The candles, once tall and proud, had burned down almost to nothing. Someone had moved her to her own room while she slept, and placed each candle carefully to create a glowing semicircle around the bed.

“Where are you?” Michael yelled from somewhere in the bowels of the house.

Boomer barked, excited by the yelling.

“I’m in my bedroom!” She stood up on the bed, her eyes watching the closet door just in case someone was hiding inside. Her gaze alternately went to the bathroom, but that door was wide open and she could see inside.

Michael dashed into the master bedroom with a gun in his hand. The shock at seeing him with a weapon momen
tarily stunned her into silence. Since when did he have a gun?

He tucked the weapon into the back of his jeans and turned to her, taking inventory with his eyes. The heat of his gaze warmed her from the inside out. Those eyes saw everything. She wasn’t sure if she liked the way he looked at her or not; it thrilled and frightened her at the same time.

“Are you all right?” Michael’s hands encircled her waist. He lifted her off the bed, setting her down next to him. “What happened? Why are you in here and what’s with all the candles?”

“I don’t know. I woke up in here. I vaguely remember the feeling of being carried, but I thought it was a dream.”

“That’s not possible.” He stared at her as though he thought she was lying or out of her mind. “I was asleep when you screamed, and my door was still locked from the inside. How did someone get into the room and carry you off without waking me? Even if they somehow managed to get by the locked door and were quiet enough not to wake us, what about Boomer?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I can’t explain any of this. I only know it happened. You can’t argue with that. The proof is right in front of you, Michael.”

“How do you explain the door still being locked then?” He asked the question with a tight jaw. She read the accusations in his eye. He
did
think she was crazy. He thought she’d returned to her room under her own steam and assembled the candles herself.

“I don’t know.” Kelly blinked her eyes rapidly, fighting back tears. His doubts hurt more than she thought anything could. For years she’d avoided getting too close to people, and now the person she’d opened her heart to didn’t believe her. “I’m going to take a shower.”

She tried to step past him, but Michael grabbed her elbow, restraining her.

“Don’t be like this,” he said.

“Be like what?” Her voice rose a notch. “I’m not being anything, Michael. I just want to take a blasted shower. Now leave me alone!”

“Fine,” he said, releasing his hold on her. “I’ll wait out here for you.”

Michael sat on her bed with his back against the headboard and his long legs stretched out before him. He clasped his hands over his washboard abs, obviously prepared to wait it out.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “I don’t care.”

“Obviously,” he mumbled.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t seem to care about anything. Not even yourself. You hide out from the world in this mausoleum, living a very lonely life.” He gestured to the walls around them. “How long have you been here anyway?”

“Six years.”

“I think that’s long enough to lick your wounds.” He sighed. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, but someone needs to give you a push in the right direction.”

His words hurt, striking too close to the truth. Her father had been determined to keep her from living a life of isolation. Michael’s words mirrored those her father had said to her so many times before his death. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, but she was not going to cry in front of Michael. Not again.

Without a word, Kelly went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She took a long, hot shower. The water washed away her tears but not the pain. Unfortunately, she didn’t find the answers she needed in the shower stall.

M
ICHAEL’S EYES WERE
closed when Kelly stepped out of the bathroom. He had almost fallen asleep twice while wait
ing for her. Women took a long time primping themselves as a rule, but Kelly had taken three times as long, and looked the same as she did when she went inside.

Not that he was complaining. He watched her move around the room, enjoying the view. She reminded him of an exotic doll, so tiny and beautiful with her golden hair and impossibly blue eyes. Her jeans fit like a second skin but didn’t appear to be tight. They moved with her easily, the material breathing with her.

The sweater she’d chosen was white and appeared softer than cream. He was amazed at his own willpower. His hands itched to touch her. His body burned to imprint itself on hers. But somehow he managed to override those desires and concentrate on the task at hand.

“I need to search the house now,” he said. “You can come with me or you can pick a room to isolate yourself in.”

Isolate
was probably not the right word for him to use, considering his earlier comments. Her eyes narrowed and her back stiffened. He knew before her compressed lips opened that she was going to refuse to join him.

“I need coffee. I’m going to make some. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “Do whatever you want. It’s your house.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Michael headed for the door.

“Since when do you have a gun?” She stared at him—through him—and he got the cold feeling that she could see all of his deceptions, recognize every single lie he’d uttered since his arrival. “Why haven’t I seen it before?”

He had to think of a reasonable explanation quickly.

“I didn’t mention it because I was afraid you wouldn’t
approve. I know how to use it,” he assured her. “I took a class once. It’s for protection.”

“You were right about one thing. I don’t like the idea of a gun in the house.”

“I would offer to get rid of it, but you have admit if there was ever a situation calling for a responsible person to hold a weapon, it would be now.”

She held her body rigidly, looking very much like a mother about to scold her naughty child. It was imperative he keep his gun. No matter what Kelly said, he was going to hold on to it. He had a bad feeling they were going to need it soon.

“Fine. Whatever. But I don’t want to see it again.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll bring you a cup of coffee once I’ve made it. Where are you going to start your search?”

“Here,” he said, glancing around her bedroom. “This is where all the activity appears to be centered.”

“Okay.” The anger was gone from her face, replaced by uncertainty. She was scared, but there was nothing he could say to reassure her. He had no idea what he would find, if anything.

After she left, Michael searched every inch of the master bedroom. He tapped on every wall and ran his hands along the edge of the molding. The windows were locked and seemed secure. If there was a secret passageway, he couldn’t find it.

Michael dumped out Kelly’s dresser drawers. He tipped each one over in case something was taped to the bottom. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t take the time to restore everything to its former position, but this was Kelly’s house and he didn’t want her any more upset than she already was.

He was about to give up and go to the next room when he spotted something from the corner of his eye; a small
white triangle sticking out from under the vanity. He reached for it with clumsy fingers, missing it twice before he pulled it free. It was a photograph of an elderly woman with blood on her blouse. The pink scarf he’d found in Kelly’s room—the scarf he suspected had been wrapped around her throat in an effort to strangle her—was on the woman’s neck. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead with a vacant gaze.

She was obviously dead.

Michael shoved the picture into his back pocket, uncertain whether he should show it to Kelly or not. She could identify the woman, but he already had a pretty good idea it was her missing neighbor. Seeing the picture might push Kelly over the edge, and he needed her in top form right now. She was a fighter deep down. He could see it in her eyes whenever she stood up to him.

On the other hand, because of her mother, she could be as fragile as a delicate glass sculpture. He needed to encourage her strength. She was a strong woman. She could handle anything as long as she didn’t let her childhood insecurities take over.

Kelly entered with his coffee. “Careful,” she warned him. “It’s hot.”

He accepted it with a smile he didn’t feel. His mind was weighted down by a ton of worries. At the top of the list was the photograph. He couldn’t get the poor old woman’s lifeless features out of his mind, and he didn’t even know her. Kelly’s reaction would be a hundred times worse.

“Did you find anything?” She glanced around the room and he was glad he’d put everything back where he’d found it.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’m going to go over the bathroom now.”

“Need some help?”

“No. Only one person should search a crime scene for evidence. Extra people just trample the clues.”

She frowned at him.

He’d said too much. He saw curiosity light a fire in her eyes.

“You can find out almost anything on the Internet,” he said.

Michael set his coffee down and went into the bathroom. He searched every nook and crevice. His gaze strayed to the mirror. How had someone gotten into the bathroom to leave a message while Kelly was showering? Was it possible to write something on the mirror beforehand? Would it reveal itself once the bathroom filled with steam?

He thoroughly cleaned the mirror before writing his name on it with his index finger. He turned the hot water on. While he was waiting to see if it worked, he continued his search.

Michael lifted the toilet lid and found a spot of blood on the rim.

“What’s that?” Kelly asked him from the open doorway.

He wished she hadn’t seen it.

“Blood,” he replied. “How often do you clean the toilet?”

“Every day,” she said defensively. “I clean the bathroom and kitchen every single day.”

“So you cleaned it today?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t have time to get to it yet.”

“But you cleaned it yesterday?”

“Well…” She shrugged. “I don’t remember. I think I was too busy trying to convince you I wasn’t losing my mind. I probably cleaned it the day before, though. Where do you think the blood came from?” she asked.

He knew where it had come from, but he couldn’t share the information with Kelly.

“Back to work,” he said. “I’m going to search the rest of the house now. You with me?”

“It will go faster if we split up.”

Her suggestion was logical, but he couldn’t allow it. There was a sinister shadow lurking in the wings. Kelly didn’t realize how dangerous the situation could become. She could get hurt. The woman had become important to him. He had to make certain she was unharmed no matter what the cost.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to split up,” he said.

“But we could cover more ground,” Kelly replied. “It makes the most sense.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Well, I do,” she insisted. “I’ll search downstairs while you keep looking up here. I’m not helpless.”

She was a stubborn woman.

He wanted to kiss her and wring her lovely neck at the same time.

“Okay.” He gave in. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“Mmm…clues?”

A reluctant smile touched his mouth. She had no idea what to look for, and she was probably better off for it. He certainly wasn’t going to enlighten her. The more he thought about it, the more he liked her suggestion. She would be safer in the rooms below than she would be anywhere else in the house because he had already spent time searching downstairs. If there was anything important to find in those rooms, he would have gotten his hands on it by now.

“Yell if you find anything,” he said.