Double Identity (19 page)

When she came to Matthew 10:26–28, “But don’t be afraid of those who threaten you. For the time is coming when the truth will be revealed: their secret plots will become public information,” Sophie smiled. A feeling of warmth and comfort filled every inch of her spirit. Sophie knew God had forgiven her. She’d come home.

Cain groaned, glanced bleary-eyed at his watch and groaned again. He pulled himself out of bed and reached for his Bible. Almost noon. He’d never slept this long before. Then again, he didn’t know if falling on the bed fully dressed and passing out in an almost comatose state counted as sleep. But he’d needed it. It had been the first full night’s sleep he’d had in weeks.

He opened his Bible and began his morning prayers. When he was finished he went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, ran his hand over the thick stubble on his face and reached for his razor. He looked like he’d had a bad night out on the town. The reality was he’d had five bad nights—trying to run away from his feelings for Sophie.

She’d fired him!

He dabbed shaving cream on his face and grinned at his reflection. Imagine that, firing him. That girl had a backbone of steel and he loved that about her. He loved her resiliency, her optimism, her faith.

He knew deep down she hadn’t lost her faith. All of her actions spoke otherwise. She’d never have come to church with his family, would never have agreed to teach a craft class with his mother for the sole purpose of introducing the kids to the Lord if she didn’t have faith.

No. She’d been hurt and angry and definitely afraid. She’d find her way back—and he’d help her. Now that she’d fired him.

His grin widened. He’d been too tired last night to see the bigger picture, to realize what she was doing, and had left defeated, confused and exhausted. But a good night’s sleep and his morning talk with the Lord had put everything into perspective. Sophie, his black-haired, green-eyed spitfire knew that he’d never allow himself to pursue her if she remained his client—so she’d fired him.

He laughed out loud. Lord, he loved that girl. Then he sobered when the truth of those words hit him. They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. But they had an entire lifetime to get to know one another. Cain trusted the Lord to guide his path, and there was no question in his mind anymore that the Lord intended that path to include Sophie.

He dressed quickly and downed a quick cup of coffee before heading out the door. He might not be officially on the case anymore but Sophie still needed his help. Somehow he had to discover the truth. Were the feds right? Was Sophie’s father dead? Or was Sophie right? Her father was still alive and Sophie might be the bait leading the killers straight to him. Cain didn’t know how he was going to find out, but he knew he wouldn’t leave her side until they had some answers, no matter how long it took.

He laced up his running shoes and locked the front door. He tapped his fingers against his thigh. No pain today. Wonderful what a couple of pills and a good night’s sleep could do. He headed for his car. He wondered if Sophie liked to jog…slowly, of course.

Sophie stood up and stretched her legs and then her back. She’d been weeding the front flower beds for hours and the outside of the cottage beamed under her tender loving care. Wildflowers danced along the porch foundation. Rhododendron bushes graced each corner of the house like beautiful sentinels standing guard. And the rosebushes bordering the brick walkway leading from the dirt drive to the house filled the air with a fragrance she didn’t find in store-bought flowers anymore.

She cupped her hand over her eyes and looked up. The sun’s height and the intensity of the heat told her she had worked well into the afternoon.

Still no call from Cain.

Okay. He needed more time to think things over. She could live with that. But she certainly wasn’t going to sit by the phone anymore and wait. That was stupid and clingy—both adjectives she never wanted connected to her name.

She glanced around her garden and smiled. She knew what she was going to do. She leaned down and picked a bouquet of wildflowers. And she knew just who she wanted to give them to.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Sophie eased her car into the cemetery. She’d always liked coming here with her father. Not that she was crazy over cemeteries. Obviously, she wished she could be visiting her mother in person. But when Sophie and her father had made their annual visits to her mother’s grave, it meant that, for at least a couple of days, they were home—in Promise—the only place she’d ever felt she had some roots.

But now she might have to leave again…permanently.

Instead of lingering on that unwanted possibility, she glanced at the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers on the seat beside her, picked them up and slid out of the car. She had never met her mother, but she’d bet if she had that her mom would have loved wildflowers, too. Especially ones grown in front of her childhood cottage.

She walked the short path to the top of the rise, humming under her breath. She approached the grave resting beneath the large oak tree and gasped. The bouquet fell from her fingers and flowers splayed across her feet.

On her mother’s grave, in front of the headstone, stood another headstone made of cardboard. In crude black letters, someone had written: Sophia Joy Gimmelli…Time’s Up…R.I.P.

SIXTEEN

S
ophie’s mind exploded with questions. How could this be happening? Who could have done this? Her eyes darted in every direction looking for someone, anyone. She was alone. Alone in a cemetery, staring at a homemade headstone with her name on it.

Oh, God, what do I do?

A small voice inside her head commanded her to get help. Without a second’s hesitation, she turned and raced back to the car. It wasn’t until she was safely inside, the car doors locked, the engine idling, that she dared to breathe.

Her hands trembled as she clasped the steering wheel. She tried to quiet her mind, calm her senses. If someone was trying to kill her, they probably would have done it by now. For the past twenty-four hours, she’d been alone and accessible for the first time in weeks. No, whoever it was wanted to frighten her. And they had done a really good job.

She needed to get to Cain. She needed to tell him everything—the telephone call demanding evidence everyone believed she possessed but she hadn’t been able to find, the black sedan riding her bumper all the way into town yesterday, and now this.

Time’s Up. R.I.P.

A cold, deathly shiver crawled up her spine.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to focus her thoughts on the problem at hand. She was alone and, for the moment, safe. She wasn’t going to be killed by a resident of the cemetery.

When the initial shock started to wear off, she was able to think rationally. This wasn’t a problem she needed to take to Cain. She needed to do just the opposite. She needed to prove to him, and to herself, that she really was self-sufficient, intelligent and able to make her own decisions.

It was time to call Sheriff Dalton and tell
him
everything. Even if she couldn’t prove that she’d received a threatening call or that a car had tailgated her, she had tangible evidence with the handmade headstone that someone was targeting her. He wouldn’t be able to dismiss her as delusional or, worse, having criminal intentions of her own.

Satisfied with her decision, she took one more glance around the grounds. Still no one. Her eyes returned to the top of the rise for one more fleeting glance at her mother’s grave. Someone had been here intent on scaring her—or worse. When were they going to understand she didn’t have what they wanted? How much longer was this torture going to continue? Would she ever be able to visit her mother’s grave again and not have the image of her own tombstone indelibly burned into her brain?

Slipping the transmission into drive, she eased her car through the cemetery gates. Once she had a plan, her fear subsided, her trembling ceased and she could breathe normally again. Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she pressed the speed dial number she’d programmed into her phone for the sheriff. Sheriff Dalton didn’t dismiss her charges as nonsense. She could have sworn she even heard a thread of concern in his voice. He promised to meet her at the cottage right after he stopped at the cemetery. When she was certain she wasn’t being followed, she headed back to the cottage.

In the short time it took her to drive back, her confidence level had returned. She’d been faced with a serious problem and she hadn’t panicked. She’d kept her head and done the right thing.

When Sophie pulled up in her driveway, she immediately noted that Sheriff Dalton wasn’t the only visitor to her cottage today. Her eyes lit on a brightly wrapped present resting on the porch floor by her front door.

Cain.

Her emotions tumbled. She was disappointed that she’d missed him. Every fiber of her being wanted to run to him, feel his arms wrap around her, hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, calming her, offering her a safe haven.

But in a way she was glad she’d missed him. She was no longer his responsibility and she was determined to see this through on her own. After all, Sheriff Dalton couldn’t be far behind. And, hopefully, when she saw Cain again, she’d be able to tell him everything. No more omissions. Everything out in the open. And she and the sheriff might actually have a plan of action regarding what the next step should be.

Ever vigilant, Sophie sat in the car a moment longer, scanning the property, assuring herself she’d be safe—and alone—if she opened her door. Once she was certain no one lurked in the bushes, she hurried to the front door, lifted the gift from the floor, unlocked the dead bolts and let herself into the house. Immediately, she turned and reset the locks. She glanced out the curtains. She was safe and the sheriff was on his way.

She plopped down on the sofa and turned her attention to the present on her lap. A big yellow bow and lovely flowered paper covered the flat, rectangular box. She slid her fingernail along the edge, broke the seal and lifted the lid.

A box of chocolates.

She popped one into her mouth, almost salivating when the gooey center and the rich dark chocolate hit her taste buds. She had hoped Cain would come back once he had had a chance to think things over, once he realized being fired hadn’t ended things between them, but just opened the door for future possibilities. They were matching puzzle pieces. A perfect fit. It just took him a little longer to figure that out.

Sophie indulged herself and popped a second piece of candy into her mouth. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She had so much to tell him.

Before she’d finished the second piece, her vision began to blur and her fingertips started to tingle. What was happening? She tried to stand but her legs felt like blocks of cement and they refused to move. Her arms fell to her sides and the unexpected dead weight caused her to topple over on the sofa.

I’ve been poisoned. Dear Lord, help me, please.

Her mind was still sharp and she did her best not to panic. She needed to reach her bag and retrieve her cell phone but her arm wouldn’t obey her mind’s commands. She lay sprawled on the sofa like a mannequin unable to move.

Think, Sophie. Think.

She could feel her heart hammering and her breath came in quick, short gulps.

I’m wide awake but I can’t make my body move. I haven’t been poisoned. I’ve been drugged.

A bottle stuffed with a burning rag crashed through the front window and rolled across the carpet. To Sophie’s horror it set everything in its path on fire.

Instinctively, she tried to scream and became even more terrified when she was unable to utter a sound. Her throat muscles must have been paralyzed. She couldn’t scream for help, not that anyone could hear her. For the first time in her life, Sophie regretted living so far from town.

A second bottle flew through the window and within seconds the curtains were engulfed in flames.

Although her body refused to work, her mind was not yet affected and she was still able to think. She tried desperately to calm herself.

Don’t be afraid. Sheriff Dalton’s on his way.

But he’d told her he was stopping at the cemetery first. Sophie’s stomach lurched when she realized that it would be impossible for him to reach her in time. She was alone—and she was going to die.

Heavy black, noxious smoke filled the room, seeping into her lungs, stealing what breath she had left, and her frozen throat muscles refused to cough any of it out. The intensity of the fire’s heat scorched her face as the flames inched closer. Shooting embers fell on the sofa and it started to smolder. Embers landed on her skin, burning her, and she couldn’t move to brush them away.

As the smoke entered her body she began to feel woozy, disoriented. The room started to spin. She could almost feel the life trickling out of her body. Resigned to the inevitability of her imminent death, Sophie began to pray.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for my sins. Wrap me in Your loving arms and carry me home. But, please, Lord I have just one request. Don’t let Cain think any of this is his fault. Don’t let him punish himself for leaving last night. Please, God, don’t let him think our relationship was his mistake number two.

Accepting the knowledge that her time on this earth was slipping away and that she had made her peace with God, she stopped fighting and allowed her mind and body to drift in and out of consciousness. She closed her eyes and began humming “Amazing Grace” in her mind.

A deafening crash mixed simultaneously with the shattering of glass came in the direction of her bedroom in the back of the cottage. Sophie’s eyes, the last thing still obeying her mind’s commands, opened.

A dark figure of a man loomed in the bedroom doorway, looking around, getting his bearings, and then he headed right for her.

Her heart leapt for joy. She was being rescued.