Free Double Identity by Diane Burke Page B

me that the two of you had been inseparable since your mother’s death,” he continued. “Don’t you think that if your dad was lucky enough to escape whoever was trying to kill him, he would have contacted you by now—some way—somehow?”
    He studied her quietly for a moment, letting his words sink in.
    “Sophie, I promise I will always tell you the truth, even if I know the truth will hurt. People have lied to you long enough.” He paused for just a moment. “I’m sorry. I really am. But the evidence leads me to believe your dad is dead.”
    She stood quietly for a few moments and then nodded. “Thank you, Cain, for being honest. The truth means everything to me right now.” She transferred the clay to her right hand and continued kneading. Cain surmised it was something she did to calm her nerves when she was under stress.
    “I need to know what happened to my father. I need to find my dad, dead or alive. I won’t be able to put any of this behind me until I find out what happened to him and what this is all about.” She walked over to the kitchen counter, hesitated for a few moments, her head bent, her shoulders stooped. Then pulling on that inner resolve he so admired, she squared her shoulders, poured two mugs of hot coffee and turned to face him. “We have work to do. Let’s get at it.”
    Cain sat down at the table and Sophie placed a mug at his elbow. He nodded, offered a quick thanks and took a sip. Placing the mug back down, he picked up the photo they’d discarded when they’d run out to the shed and lifted the magnifying lens.
    “I’m not giving up,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and encouraging. “You don’t know it yet but you’ve hired the best detective in Virginia.”
    Sophie tried unsuccessfully to return his smile.
    Cain pulled the photograph in for a closer look. He held the magnifying glass above the image of the young girl standing on the left of Sophie’s mother. She was a cute girl. About sixteen, seventeen maybe. He slowly studied her facial features. Try as he might, he couldn’t get a clear picture in his mind of what the girl would look like today. Granted, knowing that Sophie was twenty-two meant this picture was anywhere from twenty-five to thirty or more years old. These three women would be in their late fifties, maybe early sixties. So he didn’t have to imagine snow-white hair, wrinkles and stooped shoulders. They still should resemble their teen pictures enough for recognition. Cain ran the lens over the figure on the left again. Nope. He couldn’t ever remember seeing this person in Promise.
    “Anything?” Sophie leaned against his arm, trying to stare into the magnifying lens with him. He could feel the heat of her body. He breathed in the lilac scent on her skin. An unwanted awareness raced through his bloodstream. It took all his control to subtly move back in his chair, breaking their contact and not letting her know how her nearness had affected him.
    “Nothing yet. Sorry.” Again, Cain picked up the glass. But when he saw Sophie getting ready to lean in again to look at the picture, he knew he had to distract her. “Do you have any cookies?”
    “Cookies?” Sophie sat back, an astonished look on her face.
    “Yeah. Cookies. Toast. I like crunchy food with my coffee.”
    Sophie laughed. The sweet, tinkling sound filled the cabin and did nothing to deter his acute awareness of her. “Okay, cookies it is. But I get to deduct the cost of food from your bill,” she teased as she scampered into the kitchen.
    Cain grabbed the picture for a quick look before she returned. He held the lens over the third woman in the photo and leaned in for a closer look. Nope. Don’t know this one, either. Cynicism rose up in him. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy. When was life ever easy? Then he stamped down those unproductive thoughts and tried to brainstorm another solution to the problem.
    “Anything?” Sophie mumbled, busily munching away on a