Identity Crisis. Laura Scott
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“Gage—”
A sizzle of awareness leaped between them. Gage jerked from her touch, sending a wave of juice sloshing to the floor.
Mallory snatched her hand away, her fingers tingling from the solid warmth of his skin.
“I have to go. I’ll check on you later.” Gage hastily set his half-full glass down on the counter. Stepping over the mess, he gave her a wide berth as he headed for the door.
Mallory couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he left the condo. She didn’t understand the urge to beg him not to go. He might be a close friend of her twin, but he was still a stranger. Her knees gave way as she sank onto the nearest chair. Loneliness surrounded her, magnifying her dread.
She didn’t want to stay here, but where could she go? What could she do? Run after Gage? Beg him to take her home with him? Throw herself into his arms?
She buried her face in her hands, full of self-loathing. What kind of person was she? And what sort of mess had she gotten herself into?
* * *
Gage’s hands shook, making it difficult to slide the truck key into the ignition. Finally he jammed the metal home and started the truck with a twist of his wrist. He floored the accelerator, speeding away from Mallory’s high-rise condo as if his life depended on putting distance between them.
His heart nearly hammered its way out of his chest. What was wrong with him? He must have accidently touched Mallory a dozen times in passing and never once experienced the jolt of electricity like the one that just zapped him. He rubbed a shaky hand over the stubble on his chin. He must be losing his mind. Alyssa was the twin he was attracted to. Not Mallory.
Calmer now, he realized he’d reacted that way only because he missed Alyssa. She’d broken things off, but he wanted to win her back. Somehow he’d transposed his feelings for Alyssa onto Mallory. Because Mallory with amnesia wasn’t acting like Mallory. Twisted logic? Maybe. But he couldn’t come up with anything else that made sense.
For a moment he wondered if Alyssa and Mallory had switched places. Was it possible the woman he’d just dropped off was really Alyssa? His chest filled with hope, but then he slowly shook his head. No way. He refused to believe it. Alyssa told him she and Mallory had vowed to never switch identities. And Alyssa always told the truth.
He couldn’t imagine any circumstance where Alyssa would agree to take Mallory’s place. More likely, Mallory’s strange actions arose from some identity crisis, a direct result of her amnesia. And why did he care? Mallory’s amnesia wasn’t his problem anymore. His good deed was finished.
She was Alyssa’s problem now. He didn’t head home but hooked a left turn toward Alyssa’s town house. It was early, five-thirty in the morning, but that didn’t stop him.
Shortly after their engagement, she’d given him a key to keep as a spare and he’d been remiss in returning it, hoping they’d get back together so he wouldn’t need to. Since their split they’d spoken on occasion, civil conversations that had done nothing to fix the true problems between them.
On her front porch, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to knock. She didn’t answer, so he tried one more time to call her cell phone. Still no answer.
Steeling his resolve, he tried the door handle, oddly reassured to find the door locked. Alyssa always locked the door when she was gone. Using the key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The heavy scent of pine cleaner layered with ammonia assaulted his senses. With a frown, he flipped on a switch, flooding the foyer with light. “Alyssa?” His voice reverberated loudly through the room. He stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind him.
Her town house was always impeccably neat and clean, but the thick scent of the cleaner nearly choked him. It was as if the entire place had been doused in the stuff, which was odd, since Alyssa normally used vinegar to clean because it was better for the environment. He poked his head into the kitchen and living room, finding them both empty. The windows were all closed, but the air-conditioning wasn’t turned on. Alyssa preferred fresh air from open windows, especially in the summer. Gage forced himself to walk down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly on the hardwood floor. The pine scent mixed with ammonia grew impossibly stronger.
Her bedroom door hung partially open. Holding his breath, he pushed it the rest of the way until he could see her bed, neatly made. Discovering she wasn’t home didn’t sit well with him.
Where could she be? He knew Alyssa’s Christian values wouldn’t allow her to spend the night with a man. And if she wasn’t with Mallory, or at work, where could she be?
The ammonia scent made his head hurt, so he opened the windows as he walked back through her town house. A sick feeling settled in his gut. Something wasn’t right. Maybe he should call Jonah Stewart. His childhood friend was a detective with the Milwaukee police, and he had connections that would help in looking for Alyssa. But how long had she been gone?
She might not be missing at all. For all he knew, she was with some nursing friends from work. Or visiting a sick friend. He decided to wait here in the town house for her. Surely she’d come home sooner or later.
In the kitchen, the blinking light of the answering machine snagged his gaze. His messages to her would be on there, but what if there were others? A clue to her whereabouts?
Ignoring a flash of guilt, Gage rewound the tape and hit the play button. The first message came through almost immediately.
“Alyssa, this is Kristine from Trinity Medical Center. You requested a two-week personal leave of absence. You know the summer is our busiest time of the year because of increase in trauma patients, but since you sounded desperate, we’ve agreed to grant your leave.”
Stunned, Gage hit the stop button on the machine. A two-week leave of absence? Why in the world would Alyssa desperately need two weeks off? The only family she had left was her sister, Mallory.
Maybe there really was a sick friend somewhere.
He hit the play button again. Aside from the messages he’d left, there were no other messages. Not even one from Mallory.
Gage turned away from the machine. Idly, he opened her fridge. The contents were spartan, no milk or anything that would spoil. Butter, ketchup and mustard, along with a jug of water, were left inside. He closed the door.
The house had been closed up tight and there was nothing to eat. Where had Alyssa gone? The last time he’d spoken to her was just two days ago when she’d called him from work, anxious to get together. Idiot that he was, he’d been thrilled by the idea that she’d wanted a chance to mend their relationship. Then she’d mentioned having grave concerns over his taking on the Jefferson condo project. She knew his construction company had been awarded the contract to build the new Riverside Luxury Condos owned by Hugh Jefferson. Condos that had been hotly debated within the city government for well over a year. She claimed there was something dangerous going on, and she begged him to cancel the contract.
He’d scoffed at her concern. First of all, he needed that contract. And besides, what could be so bad about building condos overlooking the Milwaukee River? The idea was ludicrous.
Until now. Alyssa’s empty town house caused tension to slither like a snake through his belly. He didn’t have any concrete reason to believe she was in danger, but the persistent worry wouldn’t quit. Had something happened to her? Had he failed, again? The image of his dead mother swam in his mind and he shoved it away with effort.
Failure wasn’t an option. Not this time. Because he knew his heart and soul wouldn’t survive if he failed to find and protect Alyssa.
THREE
Since leaving wasn’t an option, Mallory restlessly limped around her penthouse condo, searching for clues to jar her memory. Oddly, there wasn’t an overabundance of personal items lying around. She discovered she had an eclectic taste in music ranging from rap to