Lover, Stranger Part 27

Grace couldn't explain that. The chill inside her deepened.

"Are you sure? You tried them all on?"

"Every last one of them. The clothes aren't a perfect fit, either, but I attributed that to a weight loss following surgery. But I can't explain the shoes. Can you?"

Grace wrapped her pajama top more tightly around her.

"There has to be a logical explanation."

"And then there's the gun," Ethan said, as if he hadn't heard her.

"I.

found the pistol you saw earlier in the safe downstairs. I knew the moment I saw it that the gun belonged to me. I knew exactly what it would feel like to shoot it, the accuracy of the aim, the pull of the trigger. Everything.

I took it to a gun shop here in town and found out that it was probably customized by a place in Arkansas that does special orders for police SWAT teams, the FBI, and some of the elite forces of the military. Like the Navy SEALs, for instance. "

"The Navy SEALs" -- Grace broke off, gasping. She stared at Ethan in open shock.

"My G.o.d. What are you saying?"

He stopped pacing and turned to watch her for a long moment before moving toward the bed. Grace had to fight the urge to retreat.

He placed his hands on the bed and leaned toward her, his eyes those of a stranger.

"I'm saying that I don't know who I am. I don't know how to explain everything that's happened to me, the dreams I have, the shoes that don't fit, the gun that was custom-made for me. Even the connection you and I seem to have."

He paused, his gaze intensifying on her until Grace's breath became suspended somewhere in her throat. "What I'm saying is that for all I know, I could be the man you're looking for. I could be Trevor Reardon."

Chapter Twelve.

Grace put a hand to her mouth to hold back the screan that tore at her throat. She stared at the s.p.a.ce when Ethan had stood only moments before, and nausea rost in her stomach like a tidal wave.

He wasn't Trevor Reardon. She knew it couldn't bt true, and yet the moment Ethan had said the words, the doubts had begun to mount inside her. She hadn't been able to hold back her horrified gasp, and when Ethai had seen her face, he'd turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The sound still echoed in the silent room. His word; still rang in her ears.

Grace shook her head, trying K dispel the almost hypnotic effect his words had had or her. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't reason.

Weakly she reached for her purse on the nightstand Taking out her cell phone, she dialed Myra's number The throaty voice answered on the second ring.

Without preamble. Grace said, "Did you hear bad from the fingerprints you sent to the lab?"

If Myra had been sleeping, she gave no indicatior of it. She sounded wide awake and fully alert.

"The ones we lifted from Dr. Hunter's clinic?" Grace he arc Myra's lighter click open as she lit up a cigarette. "Strange that you should be calling about that."

Grace was instantly alarmed.

"Why?"

Myra hesitated.

"Actually, we lifted several sets of prints from Dr. Hunter's office, some from around the desk area that we were pretty certain were his. But just as a control, we also took some from the water gla.s.s in his hospital room." She paused to take a long drag on her cigarette. Grace wanted to scream in frustration. "When we ran all the prints through the computer, we found that the ones from the gla.s.s were flagged."

Grace sat on the edge of the bed, frowning. "Flagged? By whom?"

"I don't know yet."

"Wait a minute," Grace said.

"Are you saying the prints from the gla.s.s didn't match any of the prints in Dr. Hunter's office?"

"No, they did. Only, the prints that were a match didn't belong to Dr.

Hunter."

Grace gripped the phone until her knuckles hurt. "Myra, are you saying the man in this house with me isn't Ethan Hunter?"

There was another long pause. Then Myra said slowly, "It's possible."

Grace's breath rushed from her lungs in a long, painful swish.

"Just when the h.e.l.l were you going to tell me?"

"As soon as I had all the facts. Listen, Grace, I just got this information myself a little while ago. I didn't know what to make of it. I've been trying to find out what I could from the Information Division, but they haven't been exactly forthcoming. It's all hush-hush. I don't understand what it all means yet, but Connelly said the lab is suddenly crawling with agents."

"FBI?".

"He doesn't think so."

"Then who?"

"We don't know, but if that man isn't Ethan Hunter, then someone else is looking for him. And not only that, they want to make d.a.m.ned sure they know when and if someone else finds him. That's why the prints were flagged, and now Connelly is catching h.e.l.l."

"What has he told them?"

"Nothing yet, and he won't until he finds out just exactly who and what we're up against." Myra paused again.

"It may be time to pull you out, Grace."

Grace's heart was thumping so hard against her chest she thought her ribcage might explode. But she had never been one to walk away from an a.s.signment until it was finished. And this one was far from over.

She drew a long breath, trying to calm her racing pulse.

"If we pull out now, the whole operation craters. We may never find Reardon.

I don't want to run that risk. Until we find out what's going on, I think I should stay put."

"This could get very sticky," Myra warned.

"I'm aware of that."

After a moment, Myra said, "Maybe you're right. Whoever he is, he had us fooled. He may be able to fool Trevor Reardon as well."

Grace's mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. After hanging up the phone, she paced the room nervously. Never had she been so unsure of a situation before, so out of control of an operation as she was at that moment.

Who was he? her mind screamed. Who the h.e.l.l was he?

Spinning toward the nightstand. Grace grabbed her gun and gripped it in one hand while crossing the floor to lock her bedroom door. And all the while she kept telling herself that what she was thinking, what Ethan had suggested was crazy. He couldn't be Trevor Rear- don. She would have known, for G.o.d's sake. He couldn't have fooled her again. Not so completely.

Her legs shaking with nerves. Grace sat down in a chair facing the bedroom door. She propped her feet on the edge of the bed and put the gun in her lap. There would be no sleep for her tonight, but just to be on the safe side, she wouldn't lie down. She would remain in this chair, awake and vigilant, until morning came and with it, hopefully answers.

you're SO beautiful. Do you have an idea how special you are to me.

Grace?

Trevor Reardon's voice awakened Grace with a start. She gasped and grabbed her gun, aiming at first one spot in the room and then the next.

It took her a long, terrified moment to realize she was alone in the room and she'd been dreaming.

Reardon's voice, whispering in her ear, came back to her and a s.h.i.+ver of dread tore up Grace's spine. The dream had seemed so real. She had heard his voice so clearly, that indefinable quality that had haunted her for years.

Grace thought she'd only dozed off for a few seconds, but when she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, she realized she'd been asleep for almost an hour. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning and the moon was up. The sterling light danced along the fringes of the room, deepening the shadows in the corners.

The moon glow was what alerted Grace first. Earlier, she'd turned on the lamp on the nightstand, but now it was off. And the faintest scent of men's cologne lingered in the air.

Grace's heart boomeranged against her chest. Ethan hadn't been wearing cologne earlier. He'd come straight to her room from the shower, his hair still damp and smelling of shampoo, his skin scented only with soap.

But the smell of cologne on the air was unmistakable.

Slowly, Grace got up from the chair, her weapon drawn. The first thing she did was search the bathroom, then she crossed the bedroom to the door. It was still locked, and for a moment, she told herself she was imagining things.

But that whisper came back to her. You 're so beautiful. Do you have any idea how special you are to me, Grace?

And she knew without a doubt it had been no dream. Reardon--or someone--had been in this room with her. He'd managed to pick the lock on her bedroom door, but that was no surprise. The flimsy bolt wouldn't keep out a determined ten-year-old, let alone a criminal mastermind.

No, the surprising part was how easily he'd been able to slip through the surveillance surrounding the house, and then disable the alarm without detection. Unless, of course, he'd been in the house all along.

Grace closed her eyes, terror stealing over her. She gripped the pistol, forcing herself to open the bedroom door and move out into the hallway. But with every step she took, she heard Ethan's warning.

I'm saying that I don't know who I am. Grace. I don't know how to explain everything that's happened to me, the dreams I have, the shoes that don 'tfit, the gun that was custom-made for me. Even the connection you and I seem to have.

Grace was on the stairs now, moving stealthily downward. The living room below was silent. Eerie. The shadows ghostly in the moonlight.

She came to the bottom of the stairs and moved into the living room.

What I'm saying is that for all I know, I could be the man you're looking for.

Slowly, Grace crossed the living room toward the study. A thin line of light glowed at the bottom of the closed door. Someone was inside.

I could be Trevor Reardon.

Grace paused outside the door, catching her breath and steeling her nerves.

Then she reached out and swung the door inward.

Ethan sat behind the desk, his face dimly illuminated by a lamp that had been angled away from him. He looked up when Grace entered, seemingly unconcerned by the gun she had pointed at him, and smiled.

A smile that was as charming as it was inherently evil.

Chapter Thirteen.

The man seated behind the desk was Ethan, and he wasn't.

Grace couldn't quite believe her eyes. She blinked once, then again, but the face before her didn't change.

She saw almost immediately that the faces weren't identical, but there was a very strong resemblance. This man. Dr. Hunter she presumed, was a little smoother around the edges. Polished to a high gloss of sophistication, while the Ethan she knew was tougher, more dangerous looking.

However, as Dr. Hunter rose and came around the desk to stand in front of her. Grace thought her initial a.s.sessment of him might have been wrong.

The glint of greed and deadly determination in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Where's Ethan?" She kept the gun leveled on him.

Dr. Hunter c.o.c.ked a dark brow, very reminiscent of the man she knew as Ethan.

"You mean my look- alike? Don't worry, he's safe. For the time being, at least."

Grace wondered what that meant. Her hand trembled slightly on the gun, but she used all of her resolve to steady it.

"Where is he?" Her tone hardened with threat.

"I want to see him."

"You will," Dr. Hunter said.