Free Double Identity by Diane Burke Page A

be further from the truth. She had a backbone made of steel.
    Sophie ran her hand across the lid. She hesitated before opening the secret panel, almost as if she wouldn’t be able to face the disappointment if it was empty. She popped the lid, looked inside and grinned. But then her expression twisted with pain and confusion.
    Cain came around the side of the box, eased Sophie away and looked inside. There were a dozen packets bound with rubber bands. Maybe two dozen. A picture of Sophie’s father stared back from each packet. Cain unwrapped the top one and spread the contents on the table. Driver’s license. Social security card. ATM card. A couple of credit cards. All in the name of Arthur Green. But the picture IDs beared the likeness of Sophie’s father.
    Then he opened a second packet bearing the missing man’s likeness. Driver’s license. Social security card. ATM card. All in the name of Jonathan Burke.
    Third packet. Albert Covington.
    Fourth packet. Anthony Trafficante.
    Cain could barely stand the look of embarrassment and pain in Sophie’s eyes.
    “I don’t understand.” Her words were a mere whisper. She studied the identifying information. “It looks like my dad had a packet for each state on our craft circuit. Everyone on the circuit called him Woody, sort of a nickname because of his craft. I’d have had no way of knowing he had identification in different names.” As the impact of this information hit her, she dropped the packet she was holding into the box. Her eyes welled with tears. “Excuse me.” She turned and hurried into the house.
    Cain gave her a few minutes and then followed her. He rapped lightly and leaned against the doorjamb. “Are you okay?”
    Sophie paced back and forth. In her left hand she held a small wad of clay. He watched as she squeezed and turned and squeezed the material in a punishing grasp. She offered a tremulous smile and waved her right hand in the air. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? My dad didn’t have just one fake identity. He had a dozen of them. But, hey, if you’re going to tell one lie, why not a dozen—or a hundred—or a million more?” Her cheeks flamed.
    Cain hurried to her side. “Sophie.” She continued to pace. When she swooped past him a second time he grasped her arm. “Stop.”
    She looked at him, her eyes haunted, lost.
    “I can’t imagine how hard this must be,” Cain said. “To be forced to question everything you thought you knew about your dad and have him missing on top of it all.”
    She hitched a breath.
    “But you’re not alone. I’m going to help you. Holly will help you. Even the sheriff will help us run down some leads. So hang tough. You’ve been doing great and I am proud of you.”
    Her eyes clouded with hesitation. He sensed her body tense as though steeling her mind for his answer and then she asked, “Do you think my dad is dead?”
    He took a step back and raked his fingers through his hair. He knew she’d been lied to so many times that she needed to start hearing the truth. No matter how much he didn’t want to be the one to tell her.
    “Probably.”
    Her eyes widened but she said nothing.
    “Look, all the facts lean that way. He leaves you enough money to take care of your needs for quite some time. Leaves you a note stating someone is trying to kill him. Then he disappears without a trace.” He held his hands at his side when everything in him wanted to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. “You tell me, Sophie. Who has fake IDs? Teenagers, maybe. Trying to pretend they’re older than they are to obtain alcohol.” He took a step closer as though his nearness could soften the blow. “Who else, Sophie? People on the run? Hiding. Slipping quietly from one town to the next, never setting down roots in one spot.”
    Sophie paled. Her lower lip trembled but she kept control and stood tall, not speaking, just staring at him with those wide sea-green eyes, until he felt like dirt for hurting her.
    “You told