Double Identity

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.