Identity Crisis (17 page)

A young woman wearing an oversized T-shirt for a nightgown ran up to the guy who’d finally hauled himself up off the ground. “What the stink are you doing out here, Kenny?” She gave him a shove in the chest and he went down again, like a boxer in the ninth round.

Ethan grabbed the guy’s one arm, Roger the other, and they heaved him up.

“Christ, Steph, relax, will ya? I probably stopped that other dude from mutilating these people in their sleep.”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “What other dude?”

Kenny shrugged. “Some perv was spying in the window when I walked up. He took off or I’d have had him.”

“You’re full of crap, Kenny,” Steph said. “Like you’re some big hero for scaring off the boogie man, so it’s okay you’re trashed and caused this whole mess.”

What if Kenny wasn’t full of crap? Ethan’s gaze darted to the woods shrouded in darkness. Had the bomber somehow found out about Five Lakes and was now there? If he was, and this Kenny hadn’t scared him off …

Ethan didn’t even want to think about it.

The crowd dispersed except for Roger. He gave Ethan a pat on the back. “Don’t know about you, but my ticker can’t take any more excitement for one day. Need some serious shut-eye. See ya in the morning.” Roger headed toward the inn.

Ethan scanned the woods. “You out there, you bastard?” he muttered.

He entered the cottage where Olivia was pacing, sliding the ring along the chain around her neck, an apprehensive look on her face. Their gazes locked, then he glanced down at the gun in his hand, unable to look her in the eyes.

“We’re lucky that was only a drunk,” he said. “I can’t let my guard down again. The guy looking in the window could be our bomber.”

She wore a wounded expression. “Keeping things professional is a convenient excuse isn’t it? Yet making love to me might make me trust you, which would make your job easier, wouldn’t it? Or maybe that’s what you had in mind, but decided against it.”

“You know that’s not true. I told you you’re the only witness I’ve ever kissed. But I can’t make love to you and protect you at the same time. Not to mention there are some serious ethical issues here. Christ, I’m already on thin ice. If our relationship ever became known, I’d get canned. Mike’s already questioning it. Helping people vanish so they can stay alive is all I’ve wanted to do since my mother’s death. I made a vow in my mother’s memory and I plan on keeping it.”

She nodded slowly. “You’re right. I don’t want to jeopardize your job, or our lives. But what about when you’re no longer protecting me? What’s your excuse going to be then?”

Unsure how to respond, he just stood there.

Wearing a defeated look, Olivia turned and headed to her room.

It was a good thing, since he was about out of excuses, and self-control.

This was unfamiliar territory.

Slivers of sunshine peeked around the edges of the shades behind the pink lace curtains. Bella couldn’t believe it was already morning. Seemed like she’d just gone to bed. She nestled the side of her face against the pink daisy pillowcase, inhaling the citrusy scent of Annie’s perfume she’d sprinkled on it the night before. She was lying on top of the bedspread. She never slept on the sheets, and only used one pillow, wanting the other to remain untouched. Annie and Livvy had slept in the bed the night before the accident. The night before all their lives had changed forever.

She knew it was Sunday. She’d put her rosary on the nightstand to remind herself about church in the morning. She didn’t feel up to going. The museum didn’t open until noon, so that gave her plenty of time to sleep.

She inhaled another deep breath. Citrus had been Annie’s favorite scent and pink her favorite color. The color of her junior prom dress. Bella tried to envision Annie in the dress. It had been a long … no a cocktail length … The memory failed her. She slid a lazy glance over to the closet. She’d dig it out later.

She eyed the sleeping pill bottle on the nightstand. She wanted to sleep until at least ten. She really wanted to sleep forever. She grabbed the bottle off the nightstand and shook two pills in her hand, then two more, another two, and …

She just wanted to sleep.

• • •

Ethan and Olivia’s conversation with her grandma over breakfast had helped break the awkward tension between them. Now they were alone in the car, and it was more suffocating than the eighty percent humidity. She was popping Gummy Bears like there was no tomorrow. Good thing she’d dumped a handful in her purse before leaving the inn.

Ethan’s phone rang and he answered it. “Can you hold a sec?” He pulled to the side of the road. He looked over at Olivia. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the SUV.

What was up with that? He was using the same tone he’d used with Gwen, who he’d talked to in front of Olivia several times. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what was going on. He paced outside the vehicle, anger radiating from him. He kicked a stone and it went flying. She wanted to roll down the window so she could hear what was wrong. After a few minutes, he got back inside.

“Was that Gwen?” she asked.

“I can’t discuss Gwen. I never should have told you about her situation yesterday. So please don’t ask me about her.”

“Sorry. I just hope she’s okay.”

“Well, she’s not. But I can’t talk about witnesses or my job. Ever.” He started the SUV and pulled back onto the road.

“Can you at least tell me if she’s okay physically?”

“Yes. Now don’t mention her name again.”

She understood why Ethan couldn’t discuss Gwen, but she didn’t like it. Especially after he’d confided in her about Gwen’s situation yesterday. She eyed Ethan’s hands on the steering wheel, recalling his gentle touch, longing for him to hold her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, promising her everything would be fine. It scared her how easily he’d pushed her away after nearly making love and opening up about his mother’s death. How he could control his emotions, turning them off at the flip of a switch. She wanted a relationship with open communication. The only reason she hadn’t told him about the provenances was because she feared if Mike learned about them, their safety would be in jeopardy. She trusted Ethan to do everything he could to protect her and her family, he’d proven he would, but beyond that she wasn’t so sure he could ever commit to anything other than his job.

They pulled into Bella’s driveway. Their visit was under the premise that Olivia wanted to take another look at the sunflower painting. Truth was, Olivia had woken up feeling something was wrong with Bella. They got out of the SUV and walked past the garage, verifying Bella’s car was there before continuing on to the house. After knocking on the door several times, Olivia peeked through the lace curtains in the living room, but there was no sign of the woman.

“Maybe she rode to church with someone,” Ethan said.

A foreboding feeling caused Olivia’s adrenaline to kick in. “I don’t think so.” She pounded on the door. “Bella!” She put her ear to the door, but heard nothing on the other side. She gave Ethan a desperate look. “Break it down or something.”

He turned the knob and the door creaked open. “Small town folks are awfully trusting.”

“Not anymore. Starting today she’s locking her doors.”

Olivia flew inside. After sweeping through the downstairs calling out Bella’s name, she and Ethan raced upstairs. She zipped down to the end of the hallway where she assumed Bella’s bedroom was located, while Ethan poked his head in her mom’s old room.

“She’s in here,” he said.

The citrusy scent of her mom’s perfume permeated the room. Olivia dropped onto the bed where Bella lay sleeping in a green seersucker robe. She looked so fragile with her pale skin and white hair splayed against the pink pillowcase, yellowed with age.

“Bella,” she said, giving her a gentle shake, but her grandma’s eyes remained closed.

Olivia spotted a bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand with four pills lying next to it. She checked the bottle to find it empty. Her heart raced and she shook Bella more firmly. “Wake up,” she pleaded. She couldn’t lose her after having just found her.

Bella’s head jerked and her eyes slowly blinked open. It took a moment for recognition to register on her face. “Lands sake. Oriana?” She glanced over at Ethan and concern replaced the groggy haze in her eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you two here?” She pushed herself up, supporting her back against the headboard.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sunflower painting and wanted to see it again. Your car is here so I got worried when you didn’t answer the door.”

Bella smiled and for the first time, it included her eyes, which sparkled with gratitude and warmth. “That’s sweet of you, dear. My sleeping meds knock me out. I don’t hear a thing.”

Just how many had she taken?

Olivia glanced over at Ethan, who was peering around the room, which stood still in time.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Bella checked the clock on the nightstand. “Mercy. It’s almost eleven. Time for brunch or lunch.”

“We don’t want to inconvenience you,” Ethan said.

“Don’t be silly.” Bella smiled, perking up a bit. “Always nice to have company for a meal. Not sure what I have, except eggs. Always have eggs.”

Bella likely ate most meals alone. Thoughts of her sitting in a buffet restaurant by herself on holidays, like Gracie had, made Olivia’s throat close up and her eyes instantly water.

“Do you have a saw?” Ethan asked. “I’ll go cut up that tree limb in the yard.”

“That’d be awfully kind of you. Stan’s tools are still in the garage.”

Olivia gave him an appreciative smile.

Ethan nodded. “No problem.” He stepped out of the room.

Bella slid her legs over the side of the bed. “Took a bath last night so just need to get dressed.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Olivia said.

Ethan stood waiting in the foyer. He placed a hand on her arm, then slowly removed it, as if realizing he shouldn’t be touching her after their discussion last night. She willed him to place it back on her arm. She needed his comforting touch, and strength, now more than ever.

“I’m worried about her,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’ve had a lot of witnesses suffer from severe depression. Have talked more than one off a bridge. Literally. She has all the classic symptoms. Excessive sleeping. Too thin. Lacks motivation. Her house is a mess. There’s at least two weeks of unopened mail there.” He gestured toward a basket of envelopes on the entryway table. “And that bedroom was your mother’s, wasn’t it?”

Olivia nodded.

“Looks like she hasn’t touched it in twenty-four years except to clean it, unlike the rest of the house.”

“I’m glad we came to check on her.”

“So am I. We need to talk her into seeing a doctor or a therapist.”

“Maybe I should tell her who I am. Give her a reason to live.” Olivia glanced up at the bedroom door. Ethan grasped hold of her arm and didn’t let go this time, as if she might make a run for the stairs.

“Better she doesn’t know anything yet.”

“This guy bombed the café and hurt innocent people. He likely killed my dad. What if he shows up here and hurts my family to get to me? What if that drunk kid was right last night, and he’s already here?”

“He didn’t hurt Rachel to get to you. He’s not going to hurt anyone until he gets what he wants, whatever it is. And once he gets it, he has no reason to hurt someone.”

Between the conviction in his voice and his determined expression, it was hard for her to not feel safe. It was also hard for her to remember that he was doing this because it was his job, not because he cared about her personally. At least not as much as she cared about him.

“But we don’t know what he wants,” she said softly.

“It’s obvious he’s after paintings.”

“Which ones?” The ones that went with the provenances under her mattress she assumed.

“If he shows up here, we’ll set a trap for him. Make him think we have the paintings he wants.” He glanced upstairs. “We’ll talk about it later. Promise me you won’t say anything to Bella.”

She nibbled at her lower lip, wanting to come clean with Bella. Wanting to help her get out of the funk she was in.

“It’s for her own safety. The less she knows the better.”

She nodded. He was right, of course.

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before releasing it, then turned and headed outside. Touching her arm where his hand had rested, she peered through the door’s leaded glass window, watching him walk down the steps, dreading the day he’d walk out of her life forever. She swallowed the lump in her throat, shoving the thought aside. Her dad had always told her not to dwell on things she couldn’t change, and she couldn’t change Ethan and who he was. Ethan himself probably wasn’t even capable of that.

She walked into the living room. The sunflower painting mesmerized her. The song “Pop Goes the Weasel” suddenly ran through her head. Had she and her mom been singing it while dancing around the field? She closed her eyes, muttering the lyrics, envisioning them dancing in a circle, the scent of grass and sunflowers filling her head.

“Have lots more paintings I could show you if you’d like,” Bella said, transporting Olivia from the daydream back to the living room.

Olivia opened her eyes. “That’d be nice.”

“They’re above the garage.”

They walked outside, and Olivia winced as the chainsaw roared to life. Ethan peered over at them through a pair of safety glasses, always on alert. Visions of him working around the house, mowing the lawn and doing repairs, filled her head. A stable home life would never be a priority for him like it was for her.

Bella bent down and plucked a few dried-up petunias from the flower bed in front of the house. “Petunias are hearty flowers. It’s no wonder they’ve won so many ribbons at the county fair,” she said, almost randomly.

They walked over to the garage and up a set of stairs along the outside. When they reached the top, Bella pulled a key from her lime green skirt pocket and unlocked the door. Interesting that she left her house door open while locking the door to a room above the garage. They entered a space filled with sunshine and paintings, mainly family portraits. An easel displayed a work in progress starting to resemble a photo of Olivia and her parents in front of a Christmas tree. The only dust in the place appeared to be stuck in the globs of dried paint on the palette.