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Cain winced as he carried the coffee mug to his client. The stiffness in his left leg shot a wave of pain into his hip. He could feel her eyes boring into him as he limped across the room.
“Don’t worry. It looks a lot worse than it is.” He grinned and handed her a mug.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Don’t sweat it. You’re simply wondering if you’re spending your money wisely or if you’ve made a mistake.”
“It’s not that,” she stammered.
“Of course it is.” He grinned and perched his hip on the edge of the desk. “Never apologize for considering all the facts when making a business transaction.” He slapped his leg. “I could joke and say it’s an old war injury. In a way it probably is. A war wound from my undercover narcotics days when I worked for the Charlottesville police.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t do it.” He slid off the edge of the desk and went back to his chair. “After my injury, they offered me a life behind a desk but that wasn’t the life for me.” He rapped on the desk. “Unless I own the desk, of course.”
Her smile made him happy that his words had had their desired effect.
“How long have you been a private investigator?” Sophie asked.
“Three years now. My partner and I opened Garrison Investigations shortly after I moved back home. I decided I’d had enough of big-city living and wanted to return to my country roots.”
“Pardon my rudeness, but I’m surprised you have a partner, Mr. Garrison. If I remember correctly, Promise is a very small town.”
Cain grinned. “That’s so true, Ms. Clarkston.”
“Sophie…”
He nodded. “Sophie. My sister, Holly, is my partner. She runs the diner across the street. Serves the best home-cooked meals you’ve ever tasted. But every now and then when I run into a situation where a female touch would have more success, she steps in and helps out.”
Sophie nodded her understanding.
He leaned back in his chair. “How did you hear about us? Yellow pages? Word of mouth?”
“You’re listed in the Crossroads Church business directory.”
“You attend Crossroads? I don’t remember seeing you there. Not that I know everyone, of course, but it is a small community and newcomers have a tendency to be noticed.”
“I haven’t attended really. I’ve just arrived in town.” She shifted in her seat, her eyes downcast. “Besides, the Lord and I aren’t on speaking terms these days.”
Cain tented his fingers in front of his lips to hide his smile. “That so? Yet you chose to get your business references from the church directory instead of the yellow pages?”
Color heightened in her cheeks.
“Where are you from?” Cain asked.
A shadow of hesitation crossed her face. “I’m a bit of a nomad. I don’t call any one place home.”
Cain tilted his head to the side and studied her bowed head. There were many layers and hidden secrets to Miss Sophie Clarkston. She intrigued him.
“Well, let me be one of the first to welcome you to Promise. I’m surprised you found us,” he said. “But I’m glad you did.”
“I’m familiar with Promise, Mr. Garrison. My family has owned a small cottage about ten miles out of town for as long as I can remember. My dad and I travel extensively so we rarely stay in it, but if I had to call one place home, I guess Promise would qualify.”
Cain rested his forearms on his desk. “Tell me about this letter.”
She sipped her coffee then placed the mug on the desk. “I received the letter two days after my dad disappeared. The postmark made me think he came to the cottage. If he did, he didn’t stay.”
The pain he saw in her eyes stirred him.
“Has your father ever done anything like this before?”
“No. Definitely not. My father would never hurt me.”
Cain didn’t bother to point out that that is exactly what he had just done.
“It’s always been just me and my dad,” Sophie said. “He’s hardworking, kind, loving. He has a strong belief in God and lives his life modeling his faith. I don’t understand. He never would have left me without a word. Never. Unless he had no other choice. I need your help, Mr. Garrison. I need to know what happened to my dad.”
“Call me Cain. In this small town, Mr. Garrison is still my father’s name.” He grabbed a tablet and pen out of his side desk drawer. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” He made a few notations on the paper and asked without looking up, “I assume when your dad disappeared you notified the police.” Her hesitation caused him to look up.
“Yes.” She squirmed in her seat and didn’t make eye contact with him. “At first, they weren’t much help. It’s not against the law for an adult to decide to leave. When I got this letter, I tried to convince them that he was in danger and we needed to find him.”
“And?”
“They still didn’t seem to take it very seriously. They wrote up a missing person’s report. One of the officers was really nice. He promised me he’d look into it and he did.” Her eyes cut to his. “That’s how I found out my identification papers are phony. So are my dad’s. They weren’t able to find anything after that. Truthfully, I think they just stopped trying.”
He lowered his pen and sat back. Something wasn’t right here. She was holding something back. He sensed it and wondered why.
“Sophie…” Cain ran his hand through his thick brown hair and tried to choose his words so as not to cause her any more pain. “I understand this whole situation has been very difficult for you.”
“Difficult? It’s been a living nightmare. Every memory I ever had, every single thing I thought I knew about myself and my dad is now nothing more than questions. I need to know what’s going on.”
“You’re going to need more help than I can give. I’m a small-town investigator. My biggest cases are insurance fraud, cheating spouses and missing pets. You should contract a larger investigation firm in the city. They’d have more resources than me.”
Sophie fought back tears. “What big city would you recommend, Cain? I can’t remember ever setting foot in a city, any city, until two weeks ago. And since we’ve moved from one small town to another for the past twenty-two years, what city or town do you suggest I call home?” She tapped her index finger on the file folder lying on his desk. “Besides, this report was done by big-city cops. Your old stomping ground, as a matter of fact. The Charlottesville police discovered the documents I had were fake.”
The quiet desperation underlying her words filled him with empathy. Cain offered a silent prayer for wisdom on how he could help this woman.
“Do you have anything else that might indicate your father’s true identity? Maybe an entry in a family Bible or a name on the back of a photograph? Anything at all to give me a place to start?”
She shook her head.
Thoughts ricocheted like pinballs through his mind. “What about the cottage?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “You said it had been in your family for years. There must be legal documents to prove it. A real estate title, for one.”
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, we’ve owned it for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if there are any papers to prove it. I just figured possession is nine tenths of the law.” She held up an object in her hand. “I have the key.”
A smile danced across her lips and Cain’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, a vulnerability hidden beneath resilience, a shyness buried beneath determination, that drew him to her.
He’d promised himself never again—never get emotionally involved with a woman on one of his cases. He’d learned his lesson the hard way and vowed never to repeat it. This unexpected empathy he felt was unsettling.
She needed his help. And he needed a new client. So he’d help her, despite the fact that fake documents would make it an uphill battle all the way. He’d just have to make sure this time that he used his head, kept things strictly professional between them. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to have any feelings for her…not even empathy. He had no intention of walking down that treacherous path a second time.
Cain crossed around the desk, plopped in the leather chair beside her and clasped his hands between his knees. “I know how hard this must be on you,” he said, leaning forward and locking his gaze with hers. “And I’ll do what I can to help. But I’ve got to be honest here. You’re probably throwing your money away. Fake identities usually lead to dead ends.”
She stood and offered him her hand. “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.”
He clasped her hand in his. He couldn’t bear the look of defeat in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He stood. “Leave me your address. I’ll see if I can locate a real estate title on the property. And I’ll include it in the consultation fee you just paid so it won’t cost you any more money. Meanwhile, I want you to go home and look through anything and everything you own for a name, an address, a picture. Anything you think might give me a place to start looking. You find something and we’ll talk again.”
“Thanks.” She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper she pulled from her tote bag and handed it to him.
“Wait a minute,” he called as she crossed the room.
Sophie turned and paused in the doorway.
“At least let me take you to Holly’s for a welcome-to-Promise lunch.”
Yeah, that’s professional. That’s keeping your distance. Invite the client to lunch because she looks at you with lost puppy dog eyes. Are you crazy?
“Taking a client to lunch counts as a business deduction on my taxes. So, believe it or not, you’ll actually be helping me out.” The words tumbled from his mouth even though his brain kept screaming, Idiot! Let somebody else feel sorry for her.
“Just let me know what day is good for you,” he continued. “My sister makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”
Sophie smiled and when she did it lit up the room. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”
Cain crossed to the window and watched as Sophie exited the building. She stopped to help elderly Mrs. Gleason, whose grocery bag had split open. Sophie was chasing oranges along the sidewalk when a movement out of the corner of Cain’s eye caught his attention. A man stood in the shadows of the alley a block up the street. From this distance, Cain could only see the man’s silhouette and the tip of a lit cigarette but something about his stealth caught and held his attention. As soon as the man spotted Sophie, he threw his cigarette to the ground and hopped into a car parked beside him.
Cain glanced back to Sophie. Her hair blew across her mouth and she laughingly wiped it away as she handed the last of the runaway oranges to Mrs. Gleason. With a smile and a wave, Sophie turned to step into the street.
The car barreled out of the alley.
“Sophie!” Cain banged on the glass to get her attention but she was already stepping into the street.
The car accelerated.
Lord, help me, please.
Cain raced for the door.
TWO
A freight train slammed into Sophie’s back. At least it felt like it, as an unexpected force knocked her off her feet and propelled her forward into midair. As she stretched out her hands to break her fall, she felt two arms wrap around her middle, spin her around, and then someone slid beneath her, cushioning her slide across the asphalt.
When the momentum stopped, Sophie found herself staring up at the clouds and wondering what had just happened. Before she could move a muscle, the ground beneath her shifted, someone clasped her waist, lifted her and then gently lowered her so that she was lying on the street.
“Sophie, don’t move. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”
She shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and tried to identify the hulking form leaning over her.
“Cain?” She shifted her weight and a groan escaped her lips when she tried to sit up.
A crowd began gathering around them.
“Cain, are you okay?” A man, older but strikingly similar in appearance to Cain, placed a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “I called it in. Help should be here in a minute.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mrs. Gleason, the woman Sophie had helped with her groceries, stood beside them wringing her hands and saying, “I can’t believe it. I saw the whole thing. That car missed you by inches. You could have been killed.”
“Car?” Sophie tried again to sit up.
“No. Don’t move until the ambulance gets here,” Cain said.
“Ambulance?” She glanced at the faces looming over her and then pushed Cain’s hand away and sat up. “No. Please. I don’t need an ambulance.”
When he saw she was determined to stand, he helped her to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked.
“A black car tried to run you down, that’s what happened.” The elderly woman raised her voice so the bystanders could hear. “This young man ran out of that building and pushed you out of the way. I saw the whole thing.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Sophie’s mouth as the older woman recounted the incident—and Sophie was sure Mrs. Gleason would tell it again and again before the day was through.
Sophie’s legs trembled, rebelling at the idea of supporting her weight, and she leaned heavily against Cain as they made their way through the crowd to the curb.
“A car tried to run me down?” she asked, looking up at Cain. “What car?”
“It was a big, black car.” Mrs. Gleason patted Sophie’s arm as she accompanied them to the sidewalk. “The driver came shooting out of the alley by the pharmacy. He must have lost control or something because he headed right for you.” She picked up her grocery bags from the sidewalk. “The whole thing scared five years off this old ticker of mine.”
Sophie’s head pounded and her right forearm burned from road rash. Otherwise, she hadn’t sustained any injuries. With effort, she smiled at the older woman. “I’m so sorry I scared you. But I’m fine. Really.”
The air hummed with spectator whispers. An ambulance and a police car, approaching from opposite directions, slid up to the curb.
Cain’s breath fanned the back of Sophie’s neck and his arm cradled her shoulders, lending his support as they stood together on the sidewalk. The sheriff reached them first.
Sheriff Dalton nodded at Cain and doffed his hat at Sophie. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?”
“I can tell you, Sheriff. I saw the whole thing.” Mrs. Gleason waved her hand excitedly.
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Gleason,” the sheriff replied, gently steering the woman and her bag of groceries down the street. “Why don’t you go over to the office and be the first one to tell Sally all about it. I’ll be over shortly and take your formal statement.”
Mrs. Gleason didn’t have to be asked twice. Shoulders tossed back and strutting with an air of self-importance, she hurried down the street.
The paramedics approached and made a cursory exam of both Cain and Sophie.
“We’re fine,” Cain said. “A few bumps and skin tears but nothing some peroxide and a bandage or two won’t cure.”
“Okay,” said Mr. Garrison. “Let’s get you both inside and I’ll have the two of you fixed up in no time.”
Thanking the paramedics before dismissing them, Cain and Sophie followed Mr. Garrison inside Cain’s office. Sheriff Dalton trailed close behind. Sophie allowed herself to wallow in the warmth of Cain’s body as he ushered her inside the building. She couldn’t be sure if it was the adrenaline rush from the near hit-and-run or the unexpected nearness of Cain Garrison that caused her stomach to flip-flop and her pulse to race.
