Fatal Identity

“Neither can I. But the picture... The resemblance is uncanny.”

“There’s a whole lot of speculation involved in the production of those age-progression photos. Just remember that.”

“I’m operating on the presumption that Josh Hamilton is not Taylor Rollings until I have proof otherwise.”

“Good plan, but you also need a plan for what you’re going to do if he is Taylor Rollings.”

“What would you do with that info?”

“I’d go directly to Farnsworth. Don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Don’t do anything but go right to him.”

“Right. I agree. That’s what I’ll do.”

“This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit in my life.”

“I know—me too. Well, I’d better go make that call to Tennessee.”

“Keep me posted, baby girl, and be careful not to get yourself into another pot of hot water with the department over this.”

“I do so love a good hot bath.”

“Sam.”

“Yes, sir. I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

“Let me know how Nick and Scotty are later.”

“You got it. See ya, Skippy.”

“Bye, baby.”

Before she made the phone call to Tennessee, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty, resting her hand on his forehead, which was still burning hot.

He opened his eyes. “Hey.”

“How’re you feeling, honey?”

His eyes went wide all of a sudden, and Sam wondered if he was going to be sick again. “What is it?”

“I, um, that’s what my mom—my first mom—used to call me.”

“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine.” He forced a weak smile. “I like it.”

Her heart had never actually ached with love the way it regularly did for this sweet boy. She returned his smile and brushed the hair back from his forehead. “You need anything?”

“Some water maybe.”

“I’ll be right back.” She went downstairs and brought two glasses of ice water back up. Leaving Nick’s on Scotty’s bedside table, she helped her son sit up and take some sips.

“Was Harry here, or did I dream that?”

“He was here, and he said that despite how bad you feel, you’re going to live.”

“That’s good.”

Sam kissed his feverish cheek. “That’s very good.”

“How’s Dad?”

“Out cold the last time I checked.”

“I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine, and so will you.”

His eyes went wide all of a sudden. “TJ’s party! It’s tomorrow night. I have to go! Everyone is going.”

Sam hated to disappoint him, especially after all the hoops they’d had to jump through with the Secret Service to make it possible for him to attend. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings before we decide anything. You wouldn’t want your friends to get sick if you go out too soon, would you?”

“No, but...” His chin quivered ever so slightly. “I really want to go.”

“I know. Maybe you’ll feel a thousand times better by tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. Now get some sleep, and call me if you need anything. I’ll be close by.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek again before tucking the comforter in around his shoulders.

“You’re a good mom,” he said so softly she almost missed it.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. The best.”

“You make it easy for me.”

His eyes were closed, but his lips curved into a smile.

Taking the other glass of water with her, Sam left his door propped open so she could hear him if he called for her. She went into her room where Nick was exactly where she’d left him—curled up on his left side sound asleep. Other than their honeymoon, when they’d done nothing but eat, drink, sleep and have sex, she’d rarely seen him asleep at this hour of the day. It was unsettling to see her unstoppable husband felled by anything, let alone something as pedestrian as the flu.

At times, she’d wondered if he had superpowers that he kept secret from her. How else to explain the way he managed to get so much done while also taking excellent care of her and Scotty? Sam kissed his cheek, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she kissed his lips too.

“Mmm, not tonight, babe.”