Borrowed Identity

“I took a couple sleeping pills,” she admitted. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Why not?”

“You know why!” She glared at him. “The house has been making more noises than usual. It keeps me awake, and I was tired. I took the pills before you asked me to marry you.”

“Listen to yourself. Why would I ask you to marry me so late at night? And why would you say yes when you’d just downed a couple sleeping pills?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly said. He was right. She would have to be messed up to say yes to a proposal that late at night, and when she was so tired. But she remembered him pushing her to do so. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. “It seemed so real.”

“You suffered an unfortunate side effect from a drug. It happens.”

Could it be that simple? She grabbed on to the explanation, desperate to believe. Relief spread through her like rays of warm sunshine. She wasn’t losing her mind.

“Maybe your pills reacted with something else in your system,” he said. “It would also explain why you’re feeling poorly this morning.”

She felt silly. She would have to be more careful with medication in the future.

“I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower,” she announced. “I need to get dressed.”

“Okay.” Michael said, with a pleased smile on his handsome face. That smile lit up every corner of her heart. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“We’re still getting married, right?” She watched his expression carefully, looking for revulsion. “Next month? Like we planned?”

“Just like we planned.”

She was being a total idiot, doubting him when he hadn’t given her reason to. What sort of wife would she make if she couldn’t trust the man she was marrying?

“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding,” she said. “I feel like a big heel for jumping all over you.”

“Don’t give it another thought.” He smiled once again—a warmer smile this time. It almost reached his eyes. “Call me if you need anything.”

He walked off. She didn’t relish facing her bedroom alone. Knowing it had all been a dream didn’t evaporate the horrid feeling of spiraling out of control. It would take a long time for the images of Michael’s dead body to vanish completely.

She went upstairs.

Kelly entered her room and headed for the bureau. She needed to dress warmly. Moore House welcomed the chill of winter, holding on to the cold like a small child clinging to her favorite doll. Even in the summertime the house was cooler than most other places. It would cost a fortune to keep it warm, so she only heated the rooms she used on a regular basis.

She retrieved a pair of jeans and a light sweater. Kelly padded across the wood floor in her bare feet to the bathroom. Passing the closet, she purposely focused her eyes straight ahead. She would not look at the closed door again. It had been a dream. Michael wasn’t dead. Everything was great.

So why did she feel as if she were standing in quicksand and sinking fast?

KELLY DIDN”T GIVE a thought to the bathroom door until she’d been in the shower a good ten minutes. A noise startled her as she shampooed her hair. It sounded close by, close enough to be in the same room. She always left the door wide open when she showered, because the bedroom door was closed.

But it wasn’t locked.

Michael wouldn’t dare enter without invitation.

She peeked through squinted eyes, trying to see through the foggy shower glass. Shampoo dripped down her forehead, and her eyes burned painfully.

Kelly opened the shower door a few inches and stuck her hand out. A mental image of someone there, someone attempting to grab her arm, almost made her pull it back. Clutching a towel, she brought it inside far enough to wipe her face. Her eyes continued to sting. Closing them firmly, she rinsed the shampoo from her hair.

Another noise made her jump. She shut off the water and retrieved the discarded towel. Wrapping it securely around her wet body, she exited the shower. There was no one else in the steamy bathroom.

In a fit of panic she lunged at the door, slamming it shut. Kelly twisted the lock into place.

She laughed at herself, seeing humor in her sudden paranoia. The legend of Moore House was actually getting to her. What was next? Would she hear bumps in the night? Rattling chains at midnight moving down the hallway?

She had inherited Moore House from her father upon his early death. She had moved into it immediately, feeling instantly at home. She and Moore House shared common ground. The people in Tinkerton gossiped about them both, spreading nasty rumors and half-truths. They were both considered freaks. Somehow she felt as if Moore House accepted her, even wanted her.

Her home was miles from town. She savored the isolation, using Moore House to hide from prying eyes. Not many people were brave enough to step inside the black wrought-iron gates that led to the property. Very few would willingly approach the massive three-story, forty-seven room Victorian mansion. Hardly anyone dared to grasp the brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head long enough to use it.

They were afraid of ghosts.

The dead didn’t bother Kelly. She was more afraid of the living.

She turned toward the foggy mirror and reached for the blow dryer.

She froze instantly, terror shooting through her limbs.

Someone had penned a note for her, using a finger to write one word on her mirror. The three letters dripped water. They were already beginning to fade, but she could read the word clearly.

Die.

Kelly’s back hit the tiled wall and she screamed at the top of her lungs like a banshee. Once she started screaming, she couldn’t stop. One shriek after another vibrated through the large bathroom, bouncing off the walls.

She bolted from the room, fright leading to flight.

She rounded the corner on slippery feet and ran out the bedroom door.

Hands came out of nowhere. They grasped her wet shoulders in a steel grip.

Another scream ripped from her sore throat.

Chapter Two

Michael Taggert’s fingers closed over Kelly Hall’s creamy white shoulders. He swung her around and pressed her spine against the wall, his heart pounding at a marathon rate. Fearing the worst, he visually inspected her from top to bottom, reassuring himself she was all right.

A short towel was the only thing between him and her naked, glistening body. The green cotton ended at her upper thighs, exposing them to his avid gaze. Her blond hair hung in wet waves around her heart-shaped face. She was pale, for all of the color had drained from her cheeks.

Her blue eyes were wide, but they didn’t focus on him. Instead, she stared past him at the wall as if she wasn’t aware of him.

She continued to scream as if she couldn’t stop. She fought desperately to break his hold.

Michael pulled her into his arms and held her close. He whispered reassuring words into her hair while stroking her back until the shaking subsided.

After a few minutes, she pushed him away. Reason surfaced in her eyes. She blinked at him as if stunned, probably seeing him for the first time.

“I…” Her neck swiveled and she stared at the open door of her bedroom. Her teeth chattered violently. “I was taking a shower and…”

“What? What happened?”

“I thought I was alone, but I heard something. There’s a word written on the mirror. Someone was in the bathroom while I was showering!”

Suspicion colored her expression and Michael knew she was wondering if it had been him in the bathroom.

“I was downstairs when I heard you scream.” His gaze slowly moved down her towel-clad body. He released her shoulders, taking a step back for his own peace of mind. He needed to keep focused on the job at hand, had to remember to play the part of the devoted fiancé without getting carried away. “What frightened you? What’s written on the mirror?”

Kelly wrapped her arms around her body in a form of self-protection.

His gaze went to the scars on her forearms. This woman was no stranger to horrible circumstances. She’d been hurt badly.

“‘Die,” she sobbed. “The word die is on the mirror, written in the steam. Someone was in the bathroom with me.” Her hands shook as she wrung them together. “Do something.”

“Stay here while I check it out.”

“No.” She shook her head adamantly and latched on to his arm. “I am not going to stay out here alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Stay behind me then,” he said, entering her bedroom.

At the moment he would have given every cent in his bank account to have a weapon. If there was someone dangerous nearby, how was he going to protect Kelly?

He felt her hands at his back, holding on to his waist with trembling fingers. Kelly was standing so close to him as they entered the bedroom together, he doubted a breath could slide between them.

She was too close. Everything about her was an unwanted distraction. The weight of her hands on his spine. The amazing floral scent of her skin and hair. The whisper of breath as she inhaled and exhaled at a steadily increasing rate.

They stepped into the bathroom and Kelly gasped. There were two words on the mirror now: Die Michael.

He turned on her. “Is this your idea of a joke?” Anger clouded his vision. He had a job to do. He didn’t have time to play games with the local head case. No matter how beautiful she was.

“But…I didn’t do that…I swear.” Kelly hugged herself again. Her entire body shook like a leaf in a strong wind. “There was only one word before. You have to believe me.”

Michael sighed. If she was acting, she deserved an Oscar. His gut told him she believed what she was saying. But Michael knew no one could have gotten into the room. They had both been standing in the hallway.

“You think I did it!” Her slender hands clenched into tight fists. She shook them at him. “I am not crazy!”

“Maybe the pills you took—”

“Get out!” She pointed at the door. “Get out of my room.”

When he didn’t immediately leave, she threw a bottle of shampoo at him.

He ducked, allowing the plastic bottle to hit the door behind him. He didn’t want to leave her alone in her present condition. He had no idea what she was capable of.

He could tell her the truth, but the truth could put her in even more danger. His hands were tied right now. There was work to be done. Afterward, he could tell her everything.

“Get some rest. The sleeping pills will be out of your system soon and you’ll feel better.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You think I’m losing my mind.”

“No, I don’t.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, searching for the magical words that would put her mind at ease. “I think the drugs are causing this reaction. I also think you’ll be back to normal within the next few hours.”

She stared at him through sky-blue eyes that glistened with mistrust. Michael had learned early not to care what others thought about him, but the angelic blonde cut him to the quick with her suspicious gaze. For some reason he wanted her trust and respect. Unfortunately, he hadn’t earned either one.

“I want you to go,” she stated firmly.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I’ll be fine once you’re gone.”

Michael reluctantly left her to her own devices. Closing the door softly behind him, he stood there for several minutes, waiting for another frightened cry that never came. The dimly lit hallway remained silent. When he heard her walking across the bedroom floor, he left. She was safe in her room.

HAD SHE WRITTEN the words on the mirror?

No one else could have done it. She strained to picture the mirror in her mind again, trying to see it as it was before she’d left the bathroom to find Michael. There had been one word when she’d stepped from the shower. She was sure of it.

Maybe Michael was right in thinking she was losing her mind. He didn’t have to utter the words. It had been evident in the way he looked at her.

She’d seen the pity in his eyes. Avoiding that look was the reason she chose to live in isolation at Moore House. When she was growing up in Tinkerton, going to the local schools, she’d learned to hate the smell of pity. People in town knew the tragic story behind her scars. Most of them were kind, trying not to glance down, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need their pity or Michael’s.

Returning to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water. She was lost, confused, with no idea what to believe. She prayed Michael was right about the sleeping pills. If her problem was that simple, it was easily remedied. She wouldn’t take them anymore.

She got dressed in a frantic rush, wanting to escape the four walls of her room. She purposely wore a long-sleeved sweater to hide her scars.

Kelly hurried down the hallway, but froze at the top of the stairs. She had an unexpected visitor.

Wade Carpenter, her best friend, was tiptoeing across the large foyer, heavy toolbox in hand. Wade was mildly retarded, but he was a genius when it came to carpentry work. He was larger than the biggest football player in the National League, an intimidating figure in faded coveralls.

“Wade,” Kelly called out.

Startled, he jumped at least a foot in the air. His toolbox hit the floor with a loud clang and the tools scattered across the marble with an awful noise, as if an entire orchestra had dropped their instruments at the same time.

“W-what?” His wide blue eyes snapped up to find her on the landing. “Oh, Kell. Hi. Were you sleeping?”

“It’s nearly noon,” she pointed out. “Why would I be asleep?”

He shrugged his large shoulders and kicked at an invisible rock. “I dunno. I knocked. I knocked real hard.”

“I didn’t hear you.” Kelly descended the stairs to stand beside her friend. Wade didn’t feel sorry for her or for himself. She felt most people could learn a lesson from him. He was nice to everybody.

“I have a key. I’m sorry.” Wade banged his head against the wall, punishing himself. “I knocked. I really did.”

“Don’t be silly.” Kelly stroked his back. She could barely reach his enormous shoulders. “I gave you the key so you could come in anytime you wanted to work on the house. Don’t apologize for using it.”

Wade was going to restore Moore House to its original beauty, although he worked for a construction company part-time, so he wasn’t always available. He didn’t believe in ghosts any more than she did. He loved hearing the old stories about the house’s origins.

Wade sank to his knees, grabbing a hammer and a wrench in his large fists. “I dropped my tools. I take good care of them.”

“I know you do, Wade.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Here, let me help you.”

“That’s okay. I can do it. I can take care of my tools.” His curious eyes turned in her direction. “Are you sad?”

She felt as if he was talking Greek to her. “Why would I be sad?”

“I dunno.” He placed the last tool in the metal box and stood, towering over her. “’Cause Michael left. You’re lonely. Huh?”

He thought Michael was gone. Why would he think that? She opened her mouth to correct him.

Before she could say anything, Michael appeared in a doorway off the foyer. Wade stiffened beside her. His eyes were glued to her houseguest, with a hostile emotion evident. It didn’t surprise her. Wade hadn’t liked Michael from the beginning. Although he hadn’t said anything bad about him. Wade didn’t speak ill of anyone.

Wade stuttered, “I—I d-didn’t know y-you were here.”

Michael shrugged without comment.

Wade took a step backward, fear in his gaze as if he was looking at the devil himself. Did he see the change in Michael, too? From Jekyll to Hyde, or vice versa, her fiancé had exchanged personalities sometime during the night.

Did he think he could fool her, pretend to be something he wasn’t? Which one was the real Michael? The animated, generous listener she’d spent so many hours with or the cold, magnetic man she saw standing in front of her now?

If she didn’t know better, she would think they were two entirely different people.

Wade turned abruptly and headed for the door. “I gotta go.”

“But you just got here,” she said.

“I gotta go now,” he insisted, dancing around as if he had to use the bathroom. He charged toward the exit. “Bye-bye.”

Kelly chased after him. She managed to reach him before he made it out the door. Her hand landed on his arm, tugging him to a stop. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Wade.”

“You mad at me?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Wade looked pointedly at Michael. “I’m not bad.”

“I know,” Kelly reassured him. “Don’t worry. I could never be mad at you.”

A smile tilted Wade’s mouth. He stepped out into the cold autumn day, and Kelly stood at the door, watching him go. Halfway to his truck, he bent over. He plucked something from the ground and turned to her, holding it high with a bright smile.

“I found a penny for my collection.” He began to chant. “Finders keepers. Losers weepers.”

She forced a smile. Wade’s hobby was finding things that other people lost. He kept them in a box in his room at home, watching over them as if they were actually worth something.

He waved at her, obviously excited about his find.

Michael spoke from directly behind her, far too close. His warm breath caressed the back of her neck. She wanted to swat him away like a pesky mosquito. His newfound attitude made her nerves tighten to the point of snapping.

“What was that all about?”

“You tell me.” She turned on him like a cornered animal would. “I haven’t seen Wade so upset before. What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t say a word to him. You were here the whole time.”

“I wasn’t talking about today.” She put distance between them, choosing to stand near the staircase. “You must have said something or done something when I wasn’t around.”

His lips compressed into a tight line.

She added, “I don’t even know you, do I? You’re a stranger to me. Were you pretending to love me these past few months? Was it all an act?”

He stared at her, his eyes cold chips of dark ice, and she knew he wasn’t going to answer her. He hid behind a stoic expression, not saying a word. He hadn’t been like this before today. Was it possible for a person to overhaul his personality overnight?

This Michael was like an exposed negative of the original photograph. He walked differently, stalking his prey like a hungry panther. Gone was the amusing swagger. He moved with a purpose now, walking with a quiet grace that was at odds with his big, muscular body. But it didn’t stop at the way he walked. There was the way he held himself, his gestures, the way he spoke. Everything about the man was different.

It made her want to scream in frustration.

For the first time since she’d moved into the old house, it seemed too small. His menacing presence devoured the oxygen. What could she do to protect herself against him if he attacked her?

Michael closed the gap between them with quick and easy strides.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked the question with a look of wonder in his eyes. It gave her hope. He was stunned by her reaction, by her need to get away from him.

“Should I be afraid of you?”

A harmless smile tilted the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Answering a question with a question is an outdated and impolite way to avoid answering.”

“You started it,” he said. “How do you feel now?” His fingers stroked the side of her face. “Better?”

Her skin burned where he touched it, igniting her nerve endings. She realized, too late, that she was in danger of a different kind. Now she wondered what it would be like to kiss him again. Would it be different? Everything else had changed about him. Would his kisses be different, as well?

She feared she knew the answer already.

She gently pushed his hand away. “I feel fine.”

“Then why is your breathing erratic?”

Kelly swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? Michael hadn’t cared about her scars. Outside of Wade, he had been the one person she could open up to. So why did she feel uneasy with him all of a sudden?

“It was a rhetorical question,” he said. “I don’t expect an answer.”

“Good.” She inched her way along the wall, moving sideways past the staircase. “Can you tell me something?”

“What?” His eyebrow arched.

“Do you love me, Michael?” she asked.

There was an obvious hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out how to answer her question.

“Yes or no!” A voice at the back of her mind screamed at her not to ask. “It’s a simple question.”

“Sure I do.” He said the words without feeling or depth. He replied as one would to a child in need of humoring.

I never wanted you. It was a joke. You’re a joke.

The words shot through her like a bullet, bringing a searing pain with them. Kelly’s hands flew to her temples. Palms pressed hard against the sides of her head, she held it tightly, fearing it would explode. A soft whimper floated to her ears.

It was her. She was moaning while slowly sliding down the wall.

Hands enclosed her upper arms and tugged her up again. Her back scraped against the wall behind her as Michael used it to keep her from falling.

“What’s happening? Talk to me!” he demanded.

The pain receded, and she gasped for breath. Every thought had been forced from her mind. She couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking at the time the pain had hit, striking like a bolt of lightning out of a pure blue sky.

Michael held her close to his chest as if she was a precious treasure, and she could feel his heart beating beneath the palm of her hand. She was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell of the moment. The tension she’d been feeling in his presence was gone now. She felt safe and cherished. She didn’t want to move.

Kelly rested her head against him. Her equilibrium hadn’t returned yet. A few more easy breaths and she would be fine.

“Kelly, are you all right? Can you talk to me?”

She looked up at him. His dark eyes were filled with concern. He couldn’t possibly be faking the emotion. It was too raw, too powerful. Michael really did care about her.

“What’s wrong with me?” She asked the question in wonder, her mind a mass of confusion.

“You need to lie down,” he said. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

She wanted to argue with him. The idea of being in her room filled her with dread, but her vocal cords didn’t cooperate.

Michael swung her into his arms and carried her. She wanted to fight him, fight her deepening dependence on him, but she rested her head against his hard shoulder. He was a good man, and she was a paranoid dope for suspecting him of being anything less than wonderful.

The feel of his strong arms holding her close was too good to be real. She could happily close her eyes and melt into him. They would become one entity…

She silently berated herself. Was she a hopeless romantic or what?

Michael left her on her bed after asking if she wanted anything from the kitchen. She felt bereft, abandoned without those strong arms around her. Part of her wanted to ask him to stay, but she wasn’t going to be a clingy female. If he wanted to stay, he would.

She told him she just needed a bit of rest. The drug would clear out of her system and she would be able to focus once more. She longed to feel normal again. The woolly, disassociated sensation that dragged at her body soon would be a thing of the past. A little sleep and she would be fine.

When he’d left the room she groaned, realizing she needed to use the bathroom. Kelly struggled out of bed. She’d managed to take two steps when her bare foot landed on a hard, tiny, pebble-like object. It hurt.