Deadly Identity (12 page)

Chuckling, Rachel poured the steaming coffee in the mugs. Cade was so close. Secretly, she indulged in his nearness. He couldn't know how much she savored his masculine presence. “So, your ranch is on solid financial ground now?”

Cade picked up the cups and brought them back to the table. “Yes. Mom's business has allowed Dad to improve his sales work and spread the word about our organic beef. By the time I was eighteen, we were out of the red and well into the black.”

Rachel pulled the cover off Gwen's spring cake.
She put two slices on nearby plates. “That's good news. It's awful trying to make ends meet. The stress is enough to kill a person after a while.” Her parents' farm in Iowa had gone through lean times, too. How badly she wanted to confide that to Cade. Walking over to the table, she placed the cake in front of him. “I'm just happy for all of you. As a family you work hard all the time.”

Cade nodded and watched Rachel sit down and pick up her fork. “That's it, isn't it? The middle-class path to financial stability is earned one day at a time in the trenches of work.” In some ways, sitting with Rachel like this was his special hell on earth. In an other, it was the most important part of his day. He always looked forward to simply sitting and talking with her. Cade privately absorbed her into his heart. Oh, he knew he couldn't go too far with her. He'd promised not to crowd or pressure her. Cade had been true to his word, but it was a struggle every minute he was around her.

“I don't know how you do it,” Rachel confided to Cade, enjoying the cake. “You work a full-time job as a deputy and then you come home and trade in your uniform for your cowboy clothes and you're off to help your dad.”

Cade shrugged. “By me pitching in when and where I can, it saves Dad having to hire someone. I like ranch work. I figure to put my twenty years in
as a deputy and then eventually come back to run the ranch full-time after my parents decide to retire.”

“A good plan of action,” Rachel agreed. Jenny threw her rings on the floor. Rachel went to pick them up. After washing and drying them in the sink, Rachel went back to the table and kissed the baby.

“I think Jenny's getting tired,” she murmured. Loosening the tray, she eased the baby out of the high chair. “Let me put her to bed and I'll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Cade asked, ready to help.

“No, you go ahead and eat.” She grinned. “I already wolfed down your mom's cake and you still have some left on your plate.”

Cade watched her carry Jenny in her arms. As they disappeared down the hall, he turned and resumed eating his cake. And then, he suddenly felt nauseous. Dropping the fork, Cade shot to his feet and ran down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

Rachel heard the awful sounds of retching. Frowning, she tucked Jenny in and turned toward the door. What was going on? She'd heard a commotion in the kitchen and Cade running down the hall. Worriedly, she turned off the light and partially shut the door to the baby's room. More sounds drifted down the hall toward her. Was Cade sick?

She hurried into the bathroom and saw him standing over the sink. He was rinsing out his mouth with
water. His face was pale and perspiration dotted his deeply furrowed brow. Without thinking, Rachel moved beside him, her hand moving across his tense shoulders.

“Cade? What's wrong?”

Rachel's touch was electrifying. Her closeness and the softness of her voice broke through the wall he had in place to stop the barrage of violent feelings. Lifting his head, Cade took the terry-cloth towel from Rachel and wiped his face. Tears leaked into his eyes. Rachel's tender expression blurred. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, he croaked, “I'll be fine.”

The snarl in his voice shocked Rachel. She took a few steps back, stung by his growl.

“Are you sure?” she demanded, her arms tight against her body.

Cade wiped his mouth roughly with a towel. “Just a bad day, Rachel.”

It was more than that. Rachel knew PTSD symptoms because she had them herself. She saw the shock in Cade's murky gray eyes. She sensed deep emotional turmoil in him. Tightening her lips, she refused to be rebuffed by his brusqueness.

But when he gestured for her to leave the bathroom, she obeyed, albeit reluctantly. Her heart was in a quandary. Cade needed help and yet, he'd signaled for her to leave him alone. She went back into the kitchen, hearing his footsteps down the hall. Standing
at the sink, Rachel closed her eyes and tried to reason out her next step. Her heart won out, right or wrong. Turning on her heel, she walked down the hall.

Cade was pale. His eyes were still dazed. Even more heartrending were the tears. She felt as if a hand had crushed her heart. She stood uncertainly in the doorway, and he glared up at her, his expression full of sorrow.

“I'm fine, Rachel. Just go about your duties.”

She didn't believe him for a second. Stubbornly, Rachel stood her ground at the entrance. “No. Something terrible happened to you, Cade. You need help—”

“I don't need anything!” he yelled. His voice cracked and he gave her a pleading look, wanting her to leave.

Cade was reacting like any human being. Lips compressed, Rachel moved quickly. He was like a hurt animal. The suffering in his eyes tore at her as nothing else ever had. Without a word, she sat down.

“Come here, Cade,” she whispered. The moment she sat next to him and opened her arms, she saw terror mixed with need in his tear-filled gray eyes. There was a struggle in Cade. Would he reject her? Scream at her? Strike out at her as Dirk had? She had no way of knowing. Her heart gave her the courage to slide her arms around Cade and pull him toward her.

At first, he resisted. Tears blurred Rachel's vision. “Let me help you,” she choked.

Suddenly, Cade could no longer stay immune to Rachel. Something old and hurting broke loose in his heart. It was both relief and anguish. As he came into her embrace, he closed his arms around her. Cade held Rachel so hard, the breath squeezed out of her. Burying his head against the crook of her neck, he clung to her as if she were the only person who could save him.

Alarm spread through Rachel as she felt a slight tremor race through him. Moving her fingers through his hair, she whispered, “It's all right, Cade. It's all right. I'm here. I'll just hold you….”

R
ACHEL CLOSED HER EYES.
Cade gripped her as if she were a life preserver. Intuitively she felt something awful had happened at work. He held her so tightly she could barely breathe. Rachel relaxed within his grip as she heard a sob rip out of him. Reflexively, she crooned to Cade, held him and gently moved her fingers through his short, dark hair.

There was so much pain in life. Rachel had experienced her fair share. And now, Cade was in a terrible place. At least she could hold him against this world of theirs that extracted high prices for living in it. In an effort to absorb his anguish, Rachel pressed a kiss to his neck and then his hair.

The night hadn't gone the way Rachel had expected. She had envisioned a happy dinner with the three of them and then showing Cade her quilting material. She had been so excited about making Jenny her first baby quilt. All of that would have to wait. Disappointed but not disheartened, Rachel understood all too clearly how much humans needed one another in times of crisis. How many nights had
she held and rocked herself after Dirk had been sentenced to prison? Scared and alone in New York City, a whole new and radically different life ahead of her, Rachel had cried many times.

At least now, she could offer Cade the comfort that she had never had. Her heart opened and warmth spread through her. Rachel began to realize that her feelings for this man were more than friendship. As she sat holding him, it dawned on Rachel that whatever was growing between them was strong and good and wonderful. Another pain gutted her, dousing the happiness of the moment. There was no way she could fall in love with Cade.

Raising his head, Cade reluctantly released Rachel. He felt as if snakes were writhing in his gut; his stomach was still churning. He wiped his tears and sat up. Just the tender expression on Rachel's face nearly drove him to kiss her senseless. Yet, in spite of his own pain, Cade realized he'd abused Rachel's kindness. He'd broken his own commandment and promise to keep her at arm's length.

“I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…” His voice cracked.

“No, it was all right, Cade,” she whispered, touching his slumped shoulder. “Something terrible happened today. I can see that.”

Grimacing, Cade got up. If he didn't, he was going to do the unthinkable: take Rachel to his bed and make frantic love with her. Cade recognized his need
and placed a steel grip on himself. “I'm sorry. We need to talk, but I can't right now. I'm going to get another shower and get some sleep. I'm exhausted.”

Watching him hurry out of the living room, Rachel wanted to call after him. And then what? Undress and move into the shower with him? What would that accomplish? She was at a point where she couldn't lie to Cade any more. He didn't deserve that. Nor did his family. Hands clasped in her lap, Rachel could still feel the weight of his embrace. The sense that she had been an anchor to him was very real. But then, looking at her parents' marriage, Rachel had often seen her mother and father be that for one another during a crisis. Real love was about caring, supporting and protecting the other when hurt.

Looking up, the living room quiet now, Rachel understood as never before what real love was. It wasn't the love she'd felt at eighteen when she married Dirk Payson. Shaking her head, she muttered, “How stupid were you?” and got to her feet. She walked into the kitchen and cleared the table, put the dishes in the dishwasher and put the food in the refrigerator. Having things like this to do soothed her ruffled emotional state.

Would Cade talk about his experience tomorrow morning? Rachel didn't know. Since their kiss, they had kept their conversations light and not very intimate.

Looking out the window, she saw snowflakes
dancing and twisting out of the darkened sky. The light from the kitchen illuminated them for just a moment. More snow. She was beginning to understand how a long winter could drive a person to distraction. Just thinking about the quilt made Rachel's spirits lift. Gwen had been right: having a hobby made the dark days of winter speed by. Rachel knew that Jenny would awaken in an hour or two and need to be fed. She busied herself at the kitchen counter getting everything ready to heat the goat's milk in the glass bottle.

 

C
ADE FELT LIKE HELL
warmed over the next morning. After a hot shower and a shave, he was back in his uniform and in the kitchen making himself breakfast at 5:30 a.m. The house was quiet. It was peaceful compared to how he felt inside himself. All night, he'd tossed and turned. If it wasn't the accident, it was holding Rachel and weeping in her arms. What did she think? He hadn't communicated at all with her. He'd used her without explanation. Frowning, Cade put scrambled eggs onto a plate. The toast popped up. Setting the skillet aside, he buttered the toast and took the thick slice of ham and put it on the plate.

It was still dark outside. Cade could tell by the buildup of snow on the ledge of the kitchen window that another four or five inches had fallen overnight. Sitting down at the table, he salted and peppered his
eggs. Not feeling like eating, but knowing he must, his heart centered on Rachel.

“Cade?”

Snapping his head up, Cade saw Rachel standing tentatively at the entrance to the kitchen. She was dressed in a pale pink chenille robe that brushed her bare feet. Her sable hair was tousled around her sleepy face. Never had she looked more beautiful to Cade. There was such raw naturalness to Rachel that Cade swore she'd been born in the country and wasn't a city girl at all. It was a gut sense, that was all.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice roughened.

Smiling sleepily, Rachel said, “No. I just woke up.”

“Jenny?”

“Oh, she's still snoozing. She'll need to be fed around seven.” Rubbing her eyes, she asked, “Are you okay, Cade?”

He stood up and pulled out a chair opposite his. “Come and sit down. Do you want coffee?” Somehow, he wanted to make up for snarling at her yesterday evening.

The sense of teamwork was there, as always. Rachel nodded. “I can get it. I know you need to leave for work in a little bit.”

“No, let me.” He headed for the coffeemaker.

“It's nice to be waited on,” Rachel teased as she sat down. How handsome he looked in his uniform.
She saw the holster with the gun and leather cartridge cases on the counter. He wore his Kevlar vest beneath his long-sleeved tan shirt.

Pouring the coffee, Cade tried to gather his thoughts. He brought the mug over and placed it in front of her. “I owe you an explanation for my behavior last night. I'm sorry, first of all, for yelling at you. That's unforgivable.”

“It's okay,” Rachel said, wrapping her hands around the mug. “You don't owe me an apology, Cade.” How badly she wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Rachel didn't dare.

“Yes,” Cade said grimly, “I do.” He sat down. Holding her drowsy gaze, he said, “A tough accident happened yesterday. I'm not going into the details because it's too shocking for anyone to hear about, much less see.” He took a sip of his coffee to fortify himself. “I threw up because of what I saw at the scene, Rachel. I didn't know it was coming. Sometimes…” and his voice trailed off. Gathering his courage, Cade offered, “Sometimes, things like that happen to anyone in law enforcement or in the firefighting business. We're only human. We see a lot, but sometimes, it goes beyond the pale and our bodies react to it.”

Rachel sat quietly absorbing his husky voice laden with a backlog of unspoken feelings. She recognized the stormy look in Cade's gray eyes and knew more than she could ever share with him. Rachel wanted
to say,
Yes, I know. After Dirk punched me and killed the baby I carried, I threw up for days afterward. Only after a kind nurse saw my chart and came in to tell me what was going on, did I realize what it really was—emotional shock and my body reacting to the horror of the deed.
Compressing her lips, Rachel held his anguished stare. “I can't even begin to understand the things you experience out there, Cade. But I do know this—you're kind and caring and if you come upon some terrible accident, you have to be affected by it. Deputy sheriffs aren't immune to human suffering. You're in the business of protecting people, so it has to be pretty awful for you at times like this.”

“Yes,” Cade said, relieved that she understood, “it is. I had this happen twice before in my career and both times, it was pretty shocking stuff.”

Rachel wanted to soothe the pain she saw in his eyes and heard in his graveled tone. Cade had a tough time holding eye contact with her. The corners of his mouth were tucked in, telling her just how much he wasn't saying. “In this career, you're going to have times like this,” she said in a quiet voice. “It's important you feel the emotions and not try to suppress them. They'll only come back later to haunt you in the form of nightmares.”

Staring at her, Cade blinked. “You're right.” He saw the grave look on Rachel's face and realized she was speaking from experience. That shook him. For whatever reason, he hadn't thought that Rachel had
had anything but a happy life. He had been wrong; the look in her eyes was clear—hard-edged anguish was evident in them. He opened his mouth to ask, but then snapped it shut. He didn't want to go there just now. With his own can of worms to deal with, there was no sense in stirring up more. If Rachel had wanted to share more, she would have. He silently cursed his need for her, knowing it was impossible. Cade felt torn apart. It was becoming an agony to resist her and the love she offered.

Rachel added gently, “I've found the best way to counter those times is to do something positive. I found drawing lifts me above it. That doesn't mean I don't feel what I feel, it just means I let it work its way through me. Life isn't pretty, but we can do things to make it look more hopeful, Cade. Brighter.”

Cade blinked. “You're right about that. The last couple of times I had this happen, I made sure I did positive things in the weeks afterward to sort of balance it. And it does help.” The words, the tone coming from Rachel shook him. He was seeing another facet of her unknown until this moment. And then, Cade saw her frown and quickly cover up that part of herself she was sharing with him. In its place was a mask. Or, maybe a cover or lid over her own personal past.

Squirming internally, Rachel saw the sharpened look in Cade's gray eyes. She shouldn't have said what she had. That was from her real life, not from
her cover story. Yet, she was helpless not to reach out and buoy him through this tragic time. Nervously, she rose. “Listen, I have to get a bath and get ready for the day.”

Cade opened his mouth to speak, realizing Rachel was afraid. Her hands shook briefly as she picked up the coffee mug and walked to the sink. Why? What was in her past to give her such intimate knowledge of trauma? The understanding in her tone was as real as it got. She had been speaking from experience. Scraping back his chair, Cade intercepted her as she walked toward the hall to the bedrooms.

“Wait,” he pleaded, his hand wrapping around her upper arm and stopping her. Rachel turned, her eyes huge. He read anxiety and fear in them. “We need to talk, Rachel. How about after I get off work?”

His hand was strong without hurting. More like steadying. And oh, how Rachel wanted to take those steps forward into his arms and embrace Cade. And he could hold her. She wasn't sure who was more in need of being held—Cade or herself. “Sure,” she answered.

After releasing her arm, Cade stood, hands at his sides, and repeated, “We need to talk.”

Nodding, Rachel wrapped her arms across herself. “We will, Cade. Just be careful at work today. Okay?”

He wanted to lean down and kiss her, but stopped himself. Being around Rachel was like being married
all over again. Only he'd made a promise to keep his hands off her. “Yes, I will,” he said, his voice gruff. Turning, he went back to the table to finish off his breakfast. His arms ached to hold Rachel. His heart cried with need of her.
Dammit.

March, Greenfield, Iowa

“W
ELL
,” D
IRK SAID
to Chip Malloy, “anything yet?”

Malloy took a drag off his cigarette. “Nothing yet.”

Scowling, Dirk growled, “Hey, I'm paying you damned good money to find something on the phone lines to my ex's brothers. She's
got
to call them. She's too damned family-oriented.” He stared out the window. It was snowing again. He hated snow. He'd hired Chip Malloy, who leased an apartment in the small town of Greenfield, Iowa. The man glared at him.

“Listen, this is dog work and you know it. I'm a damn good hacker but what you're asking for is someone to screen every friggin' call that comes in to those three guys at that farm. I've been on this for two weeks and there's no contact so far from either your ex or the mother, Daisy Donovan. You just have to be patient.”

Snorting, Dirk paced the small apartment. “You'd think even if they are in the FBI witness protection
program that they'd call their family from time to time.”

“Maybe they will.” Malloy pointed to his desktop computer and the other gadgets hooked up to it. “Every call is recorded here on my external hard drive. And it records the phone numbers of incoming and outgoing calls. I'm sure one of these days they'll call. It's just a waiting game.”

Pulling out a smoke, Dirk pushed the cigarette between his lips. “They're a damned tight family. Susan called her mother and brothers every week without fail when we were married. It was as if there was an invisible cord tied between them.” Dirk shook his head and lit the cigarette. A cloud of smoke enveloped him.

“I don't know that much about the witness protection program,” Malloy said, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Maybe they don't allow them to call home.”