Look-Alike. Rita Herron
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the last few weeks, or that her look-alike lay in the morgue with stab wounds through her hands and heart. That Caitlin didn’t remember being married to him and had track marks on her arms. That she might not be his wife but a twin, and that his wife might be the one dead.
No, he’d feed her, then pump her for the truth.
A knock jerked him from his task, and he set the eggs and bowl aside. The toaster pinged, but he ignored it and strode to the front door, coffee in hand.
Special Agent Brown stood on the other side, his expression stony and unreadable. “You wanted to talk?”
Miles nodded and gestured for him to follow him to the kitchen nook, well aware Brown anticipated some kind of confession. One he’d never hear from him.
Brown stomped snow from his boots and accepted a cup of coffee with a mumbled thanks.
“I have that list of my enemies.” Miles handed him the final version of his research from the day before.
Brown skimmed the paper, then glanced up, eyes narrowed. “Did you make me drive out here for this? You could have faxed it over.”
He shrugged, hesitant to tell him about Caitlin. “Have you found out anything more?”
Brown frowned. “As a matter of fact, I did some checking on your wife. Word on the streets is that she had a reputation in the bars in Nashville before she showed up in Raven’s Peak.”
He sipped his coffee, biting back a reply. He’d stumbled on that info himself after she’d disappeared.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Brown said.
Miles shifted onto the balls of his feet. If he said he knew, he’d be hammering the nail in his coffin. On the other hand, denial made him look like a fool.
Letting Brown in on Caitlin’s arrival could exonerate him, yet he wasn’t sure the woman was Caitlin. And her story about being locked in a mental ward would raise more suspicion. But if Brown found out on his own, then it would read as if he were hiding information from the feds and only make him look more guilty.
“I’ve also been studying up on your past,” Brown continued. “Witnessing your parents’ murder at age ten had to have affected you, especially since you lived with your grandmother after that. She suffered from dementia, right?”
“Yeah, then she died six months later, and I stayed in a group home. So what?”
“So, the perp who killed your parents was your mother’s lover.”
Miles silently cursed. He knew where Brown was heading with his theory.
“Your father was gunned down in front of you because of your mother’s adulterous behavior. Maybe you have some deep-seated hatred of women,” Brown continued. “Maybe your wife cheated on you like your mother did your old man, and you decided to make her pay.”
“You must be a fan of that new reverend in town.” Sarcasm laced Miles’s voice. “He’s been preaching on marriage and fidelity.” The bitterness that had nearly driven him over the edge for years threatened his control.
Brown lifted one eyebrow. “Haven’t heard him. But I do know this—your wife’s affair gives you motive for murder. So that puts you at the top of my suspect list.”
CAITLIN STOOD AT THE EDGE of the door listening to the men’s conversation, her nerves strung tight. The sheriff’s parents had been murdered when he was ten? This guy Brown was FBI? Did Miles plan to turn her over to them? Were they going to send her back to the mental hospital?
She gripped the door edge, trying to think, but panic zinged through her. Apparently, Miles had been telling the truth about their marriage. But why had she married this man? And how could she have forgotten him?
Even more disturbing, if she had cheated on him, then he had reason to hate her. Reason to have locked her away. Reason to have killed her…or Nora. What if he had drugged her and admitted her to that mental hospital, then Nora had come searching for her, and he’d killed Nora to keep her from exposing what he’d done?
Chill bumps cascaded up her arms. That puts you at the top of my suspect list, the FBI agent had said.
If Miles had killed her sister, she needed to get away from him. She could run again. But she had no one else to turn to.
And she couldn’t leave without learning what had happened to her twin.
This other man—the FBI agent—might help her. She’d have to take her chances that he wouldn’t send her back to that psychiatric ward.
Inhaling a deep breath, she yanked on the sweats she found in the closet, then pushed open the door and inched inside the den.
Both men stared at each other as if they’d engaged in a Mexican standoff, but at the sound of her footsteps, they turned. Miles’s gaze skated over her damp hair and body, sending a ripple of sexual awareness down her spine.
A voice whispered in her head, If he wanted to kill you, why hadn’t he done so the night before? Why did he hold you and comfort you?
The other man stood close to Miles’s height but had shorter brown hair and a cleft in his chin. He froze, the shock on his face evident. “Good God, what’s going on?”
“She’s the reason I called you, Brown.”
Agent Brown’s head whipped toward Miles, then back to her. “I don’t understand, Monahue.”
“She claims she’s Caitlin,” Miles stated flatly. “Caitlin, this is Special Agent Reilly Brown. He thinks I murdered you.”
Caitlin gasped at his bold truthfulness, then clasped her hands together, the intense look Miles shot her a reminder of the men’s discussion—that Caitlin had been cheating on Miles. Anger, betrayal and hurt simmered in Miles’s deadly calm voice.
Agent Brown cleared his throat. “If she’s your wife, then who’s the dead woman in the morgue?”
Miles arched his eyebrows toward her to suggest she explain. Caitlin shivered, the aching loss still so raw she had to clear her throat to speak. “My twin sister, Nora.”
Brown’s questioning look speared Miles. “You didn’t mention that your wife had a twin.”
Miles shrugged, his dark eyes still fastened to Caitlin. “That’s because I didn’t know anything about her until she—” he gestured toward her “—walked into my office last night.”
“I saw the story on the television,” Caitlin explained in a broken voice. “I…I came as soon as I did.”
“Where have you been the last few weeks?” Brown asked.
“I was hospitalized,” Caitlin replied.
“I’ve already phoned the M.E. to request DNA, medical and dental records to verify her sister’s identity,” Miles said.
Caitlin flinched. Miles suspected she was lying, that she might not be Caitlin? That she might be Nora, and that Caitlin might be dead…
Or maybe he was angry she’d escaped the mental hospital and returned. Maybe he was worried she’d figure out he had admitted her, and he feared he’d get caught. But if so, why hadn’t he killed her last night or driven her back to that mental ward himself? Why had he called the feds?
“Good. We’ll need a DNA sample from you, too,” Brown said, directing his attention to Caitlin.
She nodded, knowing it was the only way to prove her identity.
“Were you and your twin close?” Brown asked.
Caitlin glanced at Miles and saw him watching her, studying her every move. Again, scattered broken memories bombarded her. The secret language, the sisters huddled together. Then later…bitter fights.
“I asked you if you were