Identity Crisis (8 page)

Who was Gwen? If she was a girlfriend, it must drive her insane when Ethan took off, especially if he couldn’t say where he was going. Did she even know what he did for a living? Olivia could never trust a guy to that extent. That was another reason she and Luc could never have pursued a long-distance relationship once he’d returned to Paris. Distance didn’t make her heart grow fonder, it made her trust grow even weaker.

“Uh-huh. Okay. How’s he doing? Yeah. I’ll stop by as soon as I get back. Take care.” He disconnected.

No
I love you
? Did that mean he didn’t love this woman or was just too macho to say it in front of Olivia?

He glanced out at a cornfield. “Sure are a lot of farms around here.”

Suddenly he wanted to talk? Undoubtedly to avoid awkward questions about his phone conversation.

“One hundred and eighty-seven so far. Mostly red barns, but three white, and one yellow.”

He quirked a curious brow. “Good memory.”

“Just a tad bored. Is Gwen your girlfriend?” She couldn’t believe she’d just asked him that. It was none of her business. Yet, she wanted to know.

“Her husband’s a relocated witness and she’s having family problems.” He glanced over at her. “I can’t discuss witnesses. I shouldn’t even have just told you that much or her name.”

Fine. She didn’t care about discussing witnesses. But for some reason a part of her did care that Gwen wasn’t a girlfriend.

“And I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Interesting that he felt the need to clarify that.

He went back to staring straight ahead at the road.

“Gummy Bears?” She offered him the bag of candy.

He smiled. “No thanks.”

A few miles later, they encountered a K-mart and a Fleet Farm, signs of civilization. They passed a McDonald’s, and she wondered if the restaurant had been there when she was little and if she’d gone there for Happy Meals. Hopefully something familiar would spark a memory.

Growing up, she’d suffered from two repeat nightmares. One with a woman standing on a porch crying, calling out Olivia’s name as she faded into a speck in the distance. Another where she was surrounded by total darkness, alone, cold, crying. Then bright lights exploded and sirens wailed. Muffled shouts in the distance grew closer and a rush of cold air swooshed in, along with a large man who scooped her up and took off running.

Her dad had assured her the nightmares were the result of watching a scary movie. Had he known the source of them? In college, she’d seen a therapist and a hypnotist trying to make sense of them. Her therapist had warned her if she tried too hard to remember, she might fabricate false memories. For Olivia, false memories were better than no memories, but the nightmares had stopped before she’d graduated.

A string of cottages that had been turned into quaint shops lined a main street. A lime green coffee shop with magenta shutters. A blue convenience store/bait shop with a huge fish mounted on the roof. Beemers, Mercedes, and flashy convertibles, many with Illinois license plates, filled the parking lots of restaurants and bars. She and Ethan would fit right in with their car they’d picked up in Chicago, and he’d peeled the car rental sticker from the bumper.

A mama duck and her babies waddled across the road, and Ethan slammed on the brakes, thrusting a protective arm out in front of her, even though she had on a seat belt. She glanced over her shoulder at the carry-on bag on the backseat containing her dad’s urn, making sure it hadn’t landed on the floor. Even if she decided to honor her dad’s wish, she wasn’t emotionally ready to visit her mom’s real grave. Not yet. It would be too weird after twenty-two years of sharing memories with her “grave” back home.

Ethan smiled faintly. “Dangerous place.”

“Let’s hope not,” she said lightly, yet a foreboding feeling caused goose bumps on her arms. “No wonder my parents moved to Chicago. Not that I remember my mom, but I can’t imagine my dad growing up here. He liked the opera, symphony, and upscale restaurants. Yet, I guess the area reminds me of a town in the boonies where we rented a cabin every summer.” She stared out at several boat lights dotting the lake. “When I was thirteen, I took out a rowboat while my dad was napping. I fell out, trying to reel in a fish. I knew how to swim, but I panicked and almost drowned. My dad had warned me not to go in the water unsupervised, so I never told him about it. I never swam again. Once I graduated high school, he went to the cabin by himself.”

“It’s hard for most witnesses to give up all their hobbies and interests, their total identity.”

As if her dad hadn’t given up his life of crime? She had to be careful what she told Ethan. Although he’d assured her his priority was protecting her, once they’d caught this psycho, he’d undoubtedly pursue whether or not her dad had continued his life of crime. She was just another job to Ethan.

Why did this bother her?

Ethan gestured toward a sign that read
Pine Lake Inn & Cottages Next Right
. “We’re here.”

He turned down a narrow road lined with cottages, mature maples, and pines. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. This was it. She slid her mom’s wedding band along the chain around her neck.

“Pull over,” she said.

“There’s barely a shoulder.”

“I don’t care. Pull over.”

He pulled over, stopping partly on the road.

She stared straight ahead, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Sure you can. Let’s practice one more time. Your name is — ”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

She peered over at him. “You can give them the urn and tell them about my dad. Drop me off at that restaurant back there. I can’t do this. I’m going to change all of our lives forever. What if it’s not for the better? What if they don’t accept me?”

Staring deep into her eyes, he placed a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, covering her sundress strap, massaging his thumb over her skin, easing the tension in her body. “You can do this. Think about your family’s safety. This guy could be headed here right now.” He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to reveal your identity ever if you don’t want to. You don’t have to make that decision right now. But we do need to go there.”

She stared into his eyes, unsure what to say.

“What if something happened to your family? Could you live with that? I think you have enough to live with right now.”

That was an understatement. He was right. She couldn’t turn back at this point. And she didn’t have to tell her family who she was. For all they knew she was Oriana Davidson from Chicago. They didn’t have to meet their granddaughter, Olivia Donovan, ever.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s go.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and pulled back onto the road. “We’re dating, not married. I work in law enforcement, so they won’t question my gun if they see it, and you own an eclectic fashion boutique.”

She nodded. She had their background memorized, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t slip-up and reveal something she shouldn’t.

They pulled into a parking lot, the gravel crunching under the weight of the SUV. Pine trees canopied most of the area, and the scent of pine and lake water clung to the warm, humid air. To one side of the lot, a half dozen small, white cottages sat back fifty feet from the shoreline. On the other side sat a large white house with a wraparound porch filled with hanging pots of red and yellow flowers. It wasn’t the porch from her nightmares.

Ethan turned off the vehicle and peered over at her. “Ready?”

She stared at the house, heart racing. She could do this. With Ethan by her side, she not only felt safer, but able to handle whatever may lie ahead. She nodded faintly, hiding her mom’s wedding ring beneath the neckline of her dress.

Ethan grabbed the suitcases from the back, and Olivia took her carry-on from the backseat. They walked toward the inn as a squirrel darted across the yard. It scaled a wooden post, raced along a two-by-four, then scurried through a birdhouse, materializing on the other side. It hopped onboard a wooden train car and sat perched as it zipped down a track, its final destination a birdfeeder with a sign reading
Need More Birdseed
.

They walked up the porch steps, her heart pounding so hard blood pulsated in her ears. She took a calming breath.
Relax
.

A bell jingled over the door as they walked inside. A staircase with a wooden banister led from the foyer to the upstairs. Wide, open windows welcomed the warm humid air over dry air-conditioning. Framed photos lining the buttercup colored walls recounted the lake’s history, including one of four women in bathing suits circa the 1950s, arms around each other, standing on the shore. Olivia glanced around, hoping for a déjà vu, but nothing sparked a memory.

“Welcome and congratulations,” a young blond woman said with a warm smile, walking into the foyer.

Congratulations? Ethan and Olivia exchanged confused glances.

“Aren’t you the honeymoon couple?” she asked.

Olivia shook her head. “No, we’re not.”

“Oh, sorry. My honeymoon couple was due here right about now. I just brought the champagne and strawberries to their room. Are you celebrating a special occasion? You know we were ranked the county’s most romantic inn the past five years.”

“I’d read that,” Ethan said, not missing a beat, slipping an arm around Olivia’s shoulder. Surprised by his touch, it took her a moment to remember they were supposed to be a couple. She relaxed against him and placed her hand on his back, a sense of comfort washing over her. “Thought it would be a great spot to celebrate our anniversary. Get away from the city and enjoy a lake sunset with a great bottle of wine, and do a little star gazing.”

That did sound romantic, especially for Ethan.

“How many years?” the woman asked.

“Been dating a year,” he said.

“Dating a year … ” She wore a curious smile, like she was wondering if Ethan would be popping the question during their stay.

“Who’s in that picture?” Olivia asked, avoiding an awkward conversation about their potential engagement. Ethan didn’t appear bothered by what the woman was implying, but he’d had years of undercover practice. She and Ethan supposedly being a couple was going to take some getting used to. However, she had to admit she was already too comfortable with his arm draped over her shoulder.

“That’s Esther Williams and my grandma. She used to rent a cottage on Shadow Lake. Next lake over. My grandma used to swim with her.”

Was her grandma Kate Donovan? Was this woman Olivia’s cousin? They were around the same age, but didn’t look a thing alike. The petite woman’s shoulder-length blond hair had hot pink highlights. A Tinker Bell tattoo peeked over the top of her low-cut white camisole, and cut-off jean shorts accented her tanned legs. She smelled like coconut suntan lotion and nail polish remover, apparently in the process of removing her chipped pink polish. Olivia glanced down at her own professionally manicured red nails.

“I’m Tracy,” the woman said.

“Ethan and Oriana,” Ethan said.

“Houdini vacationed here also, but we don’t have his picture. He lived in Appleton just a few hours away when he was little. Came here a few times. That’s why he chose to spend eternity here.”

“Eternity?” Ethan said.

“His ghost haunts the lake,” she said matter-of-factly. “Especially on Halloween, when he died. You’ll see water splashing, like someone’s swimming across the lake, but nobody’s there. Don’t worry. It’s a friendly ghost. Just like the one here at the inn. My great-grandpa. He built this place in 1905.”

Tracy was Olivia’s cousin.

Olivia’s heart hammered in her chest. Ethan’s arm was still draped over her shoulder and he gave her a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly realizing Tracy’s relationship to her. She relaxed slightly, trying to envision her and Tracy swimming together, playing Barbies, and painting each other’s nails. Would Tracy remember even though Olivia didn’t?

“He’s usually in room five. His old bedroom. But sometimes he hangs around outside at night keeping watch.” She walked over to a small wooden desk. “Ever been to this area before?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, we haven’t.”

“We’re from Chicago,” Ethan said. “Don’t get to the country much.”

Olivia glanced down at her conservative white Marc Jacobs sundress and Louis Vuitton carry-on bag. If she’d grown up here, she might have ended up sporting pink hair and working in the family business like Tracy. Like her dad, she couldn’t picture herself living in Five Lakes.

“Once you’ve conquered the mini-golf course next door and taken a canoe trip, you can rent a jet ski from Raymond just down the lake. And of course we have plenty of champagne and strawberries if you’d like a romantic evening enjoying one of our gorgeous sunsets or alone in your cottage. We also have a room available in the inn if you’d like, it’s more romantic than the cottages.”

Ethan slipped his arm from Olivia’s shoulder and rested his hand on the small of her back. He smiled, gazing into her eyes. “I think we prefer the privacy.”

Holding his gaze, she swallowed hard, nodding slowly in agreement. He broke their trance, peering back over at Tracy.

“I totally understand. If I could have you sign in here, please.”

The roster asked for their names and where they were from. Olivia wrote Chicago. It wasn’t a lie. She was from Chicago. She just hadn’t been back there, or here, in twenty-four years. Ethan massaged his hand over the small of her back.

And she was glad she wasn’t here alone.

The lampposts along the dirt path to their cottage washed the evening in a yellow glow. The low hum of several motorboats heading in for the evening carried across the lake, as did voices from bar patrons a mile up shore. Ethan scoped things out. The cottages, located on a remote end of the lake, had a thicket of pines trees to one side, and a canoe rental company and mini-golf course to the other. A vast expanse of connecting lakes stretched in front of them.

“Isn’t going to be the easiest place to secure, is it?” Olivia asked.

Apparently his concern was transparent. “There’s plenty of escape routes if needed,” he assured her.