Her Stolen Past

“I’ll take you.”

Sonya stood. “It’s not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I want to.”

She tilted her head, and her ragged ponytail flopped onto her left shoulder. She studied him for so long, he almost started to squirm. “Okay.”

Her quiet acquiescence stirred his heart. And his mind. Was her innocent little-ole-me an act? Or was Erica right and she was the real deal? He decided he’d have to keep his distance until he figured it out.

* * *

Sonya sat in Missy’s living area and debated whether or not they were close enough friends for her to share her heart. She noted the Bible on the end table and the plaque on the wall that stated, As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Neither one of those necessarily meant Missy practiced what she displayed, but chances were she wouldn’t have the items if she didn’t.

“What is it?” Missy handed Sonya a mug of steaming coffee flavored with vanilla.

Sonya blew on it, then took a sip. She smiled. “My mother always said one little puff isn’t going to make one bit of difference in the temperature.”

Missy laughed. “Well, she’s right.”

“I know but I do it anyway.”

Missy sat in the recliner and curled her legs beneath her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

The television played in the background on mute. Fox News carried the latest about the shooting, and Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right. Still shaken up, of course. The whole thing is surreal and I’ll probably have nightmares for weeks, but I’m just grateful to be alive.” She took another sip of the steaming brew. “How is the woman who was brought in?”

“Still alive when I left an hour ago, but critical.”

Sonya leaned her head against the back of the couch. “I don’t understand people who can do that kind of thing,” she whispered.

“I don’t, either, and I don’t want to.” Missy paused. “So who was the good-looking guy who followed you here?”

Sonya felt the flush creep up into her cheeks. “That’s Brandon.”

“And? You haven’t talked about him at work.”

That wasn’t her style, but she didn’t say that. “I hired him to look into something I found going through my mother’s things after she died.”

“What’d you find?” Missy turned serious, her brow creasing.

So Sonya spilled her story. Missy stared wide-eyed, her flavored coffee forgotten. Sonya finished with “The shooting happened just across from Brandon’s office with Finding the Lost. He heard the shots and came running.”

“That’s just crazy. And this Heather Bradley was kidnapped twenty-eight years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And Brandon works for this company.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more about Brandon. You blushed when I asked you about him.”

Sonya groaned and gave a half laugh. “I can’t figure Brandon out. On the one hand, he’s kind, concerned and obviously very good at his job. On the other, he comes across aloof and—suspicious.” She’d been aware of his intense scrutiny while she’d been on the phone with Missy, but had pretended not to notice. He’d walked her back to the park and waited while she’d retrieved her car. Very serious, very businesslike. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Which meant it was time to change the subject. “I think I’ll grab some sleep. What time is your shift tomorrow?”

“Seven A to Seven P.” Meaning seven in the morning to seven at night. “What about you?”

“The same, but I’ll have to go home and change before I go in.”

“I have some clothes and scrubs you can use if you want to borrow them.”

She almost took her friend up on the offer. Instead, she said, “I’ll just go home early in the morning and get ready. My house is on the way to the hospital, so it’s no big deal. And besides, I have to feed Chaucer.”

Chaucer, her cat, independent and aloof until it was time to eat, but she’d filled his bowls before her run earlier and he would be physically fine for the next few hours. His temperament would leave a lot to be desired, but she’d deal with that later.

Missy shrugged and yawned. “Okay. Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask or browse.”

Sonya smiled. “Thanks. Shampoo and conditioner are all I need for now.”

“All right. See you in the morning.”

Sonya sat on the couch for a few minutes after Missy padded down the hallway to her bedroom. She stared at the clock on the mantel and listened to it tick.

Each click of the second hand felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Now that she was alone, the thought that she could have died today ate at her. “I don’t know why You left me here, Lord, but I thank You for that,” she whispered. She knew she’d die one day, and she was ready for when it happened. Meaning she knew she’d go to heaven, but until that time, she wanted her life to count, to mean something.

She saw death on a daily basis, but coming face-to-face with the fact that a bullet could have so easily taken her out made her shudder.

And made her all the more determined to find out what had happened to little Heather Bradley. To find out if Brandon’s hunch was right and she was Heather. Because if she was, her entire life had been a lie.

* * *

From his deck, Brandon sat in the darkness, ignoring the humidity that caused sweat to bead across his forehead. He stared at the half-moon and allowed his mind to process the day. At two in the morning, he sipped a soda, a rare drink for him, but one he enjoyed on occasion.

Living in the middle of downtown had its advantages, one of which was proximity to both of his offices. When Jordan Gray had looked him up after his last tour in Iraq, at loose ends and grieving the death of his brother, who’d recently died of an overdose, Brandon had offered him the spare bedroom.

And now Jordan was getting married to Katie Randall this summer. A June wedding Katie admitted she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl, but never really thought would happen. They’d bought a small house about fifteen minutes away and Katie was moving in tomorrow.

After the wedding, Jordan would join her, and Brandon would be left alone. He could afford the payment, but had to admit he’d be a little lonely. Not that things would be much different than they were now. Jordan spent every spare minute with Katie, coming home only to sleep and shower.

First Erica and Max had tied the knot, now Jordan and Katie. Brandon wondered if he’d ever meet someone. Someone real, someone who didn’t want to be with him just because the media had labeled him a hero.

His jaw tightened. Then relaxed as Sonya came to mind. She seemed so likable and genuine. He hoped that was the case, but would keep his guard up. His ex-fiancée had seemed quite likable and genuine—until she’d met someone who didn’t come with as much baggage attached to him.

Brandon knew he had issues that stemmed from his family situation—and he was working on them. It had hurt when Krystal had decided she didn’t want to work on them with him.

Brandon turned to head back inside. The lamp in his den went out. He stopped. Looked at his kitchen window. The light over the sink was off, too.

For a moment, he stood silent, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The town house to his left had power. So did the one to his right.

A blown fuse?

Maybe. But in his line of work, he wasn’t going with that assumption.

Brandon set his drink on the small table next to the chair and reached for his weapon. The one that wasn’t there because he’d left it on his kitchen counter. Next to his cell phone.

Wary, Brandon slipped to the edge of the deck and waited. Watching through the French doors. Even though it was dark inside, the moon offered a bit of light, coming through the open blinds and into the den.

His patience paid off when a thin shadow moved into his line of sight. The person paused, then moved to his desk. A thin beam of light came from a small penlight. Who was it?

Itching to confront the intruder, Brandon held still, waiting and watching. A weapon appeared for a brief moment, and the large barrel on the end said this was no random break-in.

His gut twisted as he mentally moved into battle mode. His right hand twitched, wanting the comforting feel of his Glock against his palm.

The town house had two levels. Right now, they were on the bottom level. Upstairs he had three bedrooms. One for him, one for Jordan and one he used as an office. The antique desk in the living area simply served as decoration.

But his intruder didn’t know that.

Did the person not realize he was home?

The weapon said yes. The leisurely search of the desk said no. Or he wasn’t worried about it.

Brandon waited for a lull in the traffic, then slid the glass door open and slipped inside. He closed the door with a quiet hiss.

The figure at the other end of the town house paused. Lifted his head as though listening. Brandon stayed still, his only thought to get to his weapon. The person moved toward him, his weapon held expertly in front of him.

Brandon took note. Weapons training. Breaking-and-entering training. What else? Not wanting to be caught unprepared and while the element of surprise was still on his side, he moved on silent feet through the darkness to the kitchen.

The intruder’s gun popped, flashed. The bullet slammed into the wall next to Brandon’s head.

So much for being quiet.

He dived for the kitchen and rolled as another bullet burned a hole in his newly laid tile floor. Anger fizzled. His back hit the cabinets. He lifted his hand and snagged his Glock from the counter, keeping his head low.

He’d been shot before. He had no intention of letting it happen again. With his other hand, he reached up and grabbed his phone.

“Come around the corner and you get shot. Tell me what you want and you might keep breathing.” He kept his voice steady. Controlled. He didn’t want to shoot anyone. Not even this person intent on killing him. He did, however, want to know who it was. But he wasn’t going hunting blind.

Brandon listened as he punched in 911 and pressed the phone to his ear.

Silence from the den. The 911 operator’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded incredibly loud. He lowered the phone.

A whisper of movement from the living area reached him. Brandon stilled. Moving closer or moving away?

Brandon tried again. “Get out while the getting’s good.” He pressed the phone back to his ear and whispered his address.

“Yes, sir. I got it. What’s the emergency?”

He didn’t answer, just listened.

Still the intruder said nothing and made almost no sound. Brandon waited, nerves bunched, muscles quivering with his tension. A low voice finally came to him. “Stop looking for Heather Bradley.”

And then the quiet snick of the door shutting.

Brandon stayed still, ignoring the adrenaline rush racing at fever pitch through his veins. Was it a trick to get him to show himself? He moved and peered around the kitchen cabinet, into the den area. No movement, but it was so dark, someone could be hunched down and he’d never see him.

Brandon flattened himself on his belly and kept his weapon in front of him. Army crawling, he moved toward the den, eyes probing the darkness.

He could see nothing. He heard nothing. He turned the volume down on the 911 operator frantically trying to get him to answer.

The sirens in the distance caught his attention and he figured they were headed for him. If the intruder was still in his house, he was going to be trapped.

No one spoke. No more shots came his way.

Brandon’s adrenaline ebbed as he finally decided he was alone. He stood, still cautious, watchful. He flicked on the small light above his sink, not wanting to turn on the bright kitchen light after being in the darkness for so long. He needed to let his eyes adjust slowly.

Still keeping himself protected from anything that might come from the den area, he waited to make sure.

Then slowly, methodically, he swept each and every room, weapon ready.

The place was empty.

Only now he knew someone didn’t want him looking for Heather Bradley. The question was: Why?

That someone had just made a very bad mistake because now Brandon was more determined than ever to get answers to all of his questions. All of them.

THREE

Somehow Sonya made it through her twelve-hour shift without collapsing. She didn’t like working on Sundays, but it was part of the job. She was fortunate she had to take only one Sunday a month.

Now she had one more thing to do before she went home to collapse.

She knocked on the door to room 412.

“Come in.”

Sonya stepped into the room and saw the woman in the bed. “Hi, Dineen, my name’s Sonya Daniels. I was in the park when you were shot.”

“You’re the one who saved me,” she whispered and held up a hand.

Sonya took it and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”

“I am, too.” She coughed and winced. Sonya handed her the cup of water by her bed. After Dineen took a small sip, she set it aside.

“Is someone staying with you?”

“My husband. He went downstairs to get something to eat. He’ll be back soon.”

“Good.”

“Did they catch him?”

“No, not yet.”

She nodded. “I figured I would have heard something if they had. It’s still all over the news.”

“They’ll catch him.”

Her lids drooped. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stay awake very long.”

“It’s the pain medicine. I just wanted to check on you. Go to sleep and heal.”

“Thank you.”

Sonya smiled and left. Exhaustion swept over her. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into bed. Even the thought of her empty refrigerator couldn’t tempt her into stopping at the grocery store. She would make do with peanut butter and crackers and a bottle of water. Sleep was all she craved.

“Hey, Sonya,” Missy called.

Sonya turned. “Yes?”

“Are you going home? Do you need to stay another night at my house?”

“I think I’m all right.” She’d managed to dodge the reporters this morning. Security had kept them from her while at work. She wondered if they’d be waiting for her at her car. The thought made her grimace.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. Just let me know.”

“Thanks.” Sonya gave her a small smile. It was all she could muster. However, she decided Missy was the real deal and hoped they could build their friendship. She missed having a close friend.

“I’ll see she gets home all right.”

Sonya turned at the deep voice and found Brandon standing in the small foyer. He looked as tired as she felt. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

Sonya felt the heat in her neck start to rise and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. How are you?”

“I’m just teasing. I thought I’d stop by and see if you could use a bite to eat?”

Sonya was amazed to feel energy start to seep back into her tired body. His mere presence jump-started her pulse and made her heart pound. She swallowed hard. “I could eat.”

“Great. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t mind me. I was just leaving,” Missy said.

Sonya felt her flush deepen and she shot Missy a look that said to stop. Missy grinned, waved and headed out the door.

Sonya rolled her eyes and turned back to Brandon, who smiled, his eyes dark and mysterious. She wished she could read him.

“Come on. I’ll drive and bring you back when we’re done.”

She hesitated. “Do you mind if I just follow you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He walked her the rest of the way to her car. She slid into the driver’s seat and clicked on her seat belt.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself sitting opposite Brandon at one of her favorite cafés about a mile from her mother’s home.

Brandon rubbed his coffee cup between his palms. Sonya took a bite of her chicken panini. With food in her stomach, the strong black coffee racing through her veins and the handsome man across from her, she felt as though she’d just had eight hours of sleep. Her watch said it was pushing eight o’clock. If she was in bed by eleven, she would be good to go for tomorrow’s shift. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Heather Bradley.”

“What about her? Did you find out if—” She bit her lip, unable to voice the question.

“If you’re her?”

“Yes. I can’t even believe I’m asking. It’s just too bizarre.”

“Unfortunately, bizarre stuff happens all the time.” He smiled. “I’ve talked to Mr. Bradley once. He’s open to meeting you. Would you be interested in taking the baby stuff to them?”

Sonya paused midbite. “Me?”

“Well, it was in your mother’s house where you found the stuff. Mr. Bradley said they’d love to have the bag and other items back.”

“But...but...” she sputtered. “Won’t they think my parents had something to do with their daughter’s kidnapping?”

“He asked what I thought about your parents and how they might have come by the items.”

“What did you say?”

“Just that you had come to me with this story and the items and were as confused about them as everyone else.”

Sonya took another bite, chewed and swallowed. The distraction gave her time to think. “I’m okay with returning the stuff, then.”

“Good. He wants to talk to you. Said he had questions for you.”

Sonya shrugged. “I feel sorry he’s lost his daughter, but unfortunately, I won’t have any answers to his questions.”

“I told him that. He wants to see you anyway.”

She paused. “Did you tell him we were pondering whether I might be Heather?”

“No. But I think the thought crossed his mind when I told him about you.”

“I see.” She thought for a few more minutes then nodded. “Well, then. When do we go?”

“As soon as you get off your shift tomorrow night? Or will you be too tired?”

“I’ll be tired, but I still want to go. The sooner we get this resolved, the better I’ll feel. And I’ll ask if I can leave a couple of hours early if that would help.”

“It would. So around 5:00?”

“Okay. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Yo. Brandon, my man, what up?”

Sonya jerked at the voice to her left. She turned to find a tattooed young man with more earrings in his ears than she had in her jewelry box.

Brandon stood and held a hand out to the kid. “Spike. Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Hanging, dude. Just hanging.”

“Staying out of trouble?”

“Of course.”

Sonya almost had to laugh at his attempt at an innocent look.

Brandon rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips was genuine. He turned to her. “Sonya, I’d like you to meet Landon Olsen, aka Spike. Landon, this is Sonya.”

“Pretty lady, dude.” He elbowed Brandon and winked. Sonya could feel the flush inching its way up her neck and into her cheeks. Brandon gave a gentle slap to Spike’s head. The boy laughed and said, “Sorry. I’m kidding you.” He made a formal bow in Sonya’s direction. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Well, thank you, Spike. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She shot a glance back and forth between the two. “So how do you guys know each other?”

Spike stuck out his well-muscled chest. “I’m one of his more successful projects.”

Sonya lifted a brow at Brandon and he groaned. “He’s a pain in my side most of the time.”

Spike grinned. “Dude, you know you’re my hero.” He looked at Sonya. “I’m gonna be a detective like him one day.”

“That’s a wonderful goal, Spike,” she said. “I have a feeling you’ll be one of the best and brightest.”

Spike’s eyes lit up and she could see he took her compliment seriously. Just the way she meant it. He turned to Brandon. “I like her, man. Don’t mess it up.” Before Brandon could say anything, Spike announced, “Hey, I gotta go, dude. See you Saturday?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’m going to beat you so bad, you’re going to need a doctor to put you back together.”

“Don’t count on it. Your head’s getting so big, it’s going to weigh you down.”

Spike barked his laughter, gave a two-fingered salute and slipped out the door.

Sonya sat back. “What in the world? Beat you?”

Brandon blew out a sigh. “I help out at Parker House. It’s a place that takes in young men who’ve had some brushes with the law and rehabilitates them. Or at least tries to. It’s part that and part recreation center. When he said he was going to beat me, he meant he was going to win our game of three-on-three this weekend.”

“Basketball?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He studied her. “You like basketball?”

“Love it.”

“You want to come watch?”

She did. “What time?”

“Nine o’clock.”

She groaned. “As in a.m.? On a Saturday morning?”

He laughed. “Not a morning person?”

“Not in the least. I mean, I have to be for work, of course, but on my days off...”

“You almost smiled.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You don’t smile much.”

“I haven’t had much to smile about lately.” She tried to force her lips into one and he shook his head.

“I’m not talking about a fake smile. I’m talking about a real one.” Before she had a chance to respond or even try to find a “real” smile, he said, “But you’ll come?” His voice softened and he leaned forward. She caught a look in his eyes that made her gulp.

“Sure. I’ll come.”

He nodded and looked away. She wondered what he was thinking, but couldn’t tell. Did he regret asking her? He cleared his throat. “Anyway, tomorrow after your shift, we’ll go see Heather’s parents.”

So it was back to business. “Yes. That’s fine.”

* * *

Brandon studied Sonya and wondered what had come over him that he would invite her into a place that he kept as his. His home was his haven. Parker House was his escape, his passion. And he’d just invited Sonya to come. He must be more tired than he thought. “I wanted to talk to you about something else. Someone broke into my house last night.”

She gaped at him. “Broke into your house?”

He nodded and told her what had happened.

“But why?” she asked.

“To tell me to stop looking for Heather Bradley.”

She paled and sat back. “What?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “I think it’s extremely weird that you were shot at yesterday and then someone breaks in my house the same night. It could be just a crazy coincidence, but I’ve been in this business a long time and I’m just not sure I’m going to buy that theory.”

“I don’t know, Brandon. The shooter wasn’t really going for me personally. He was shooting at others in the park, too.”

“True. I’ve thought about that. And maybe I’m just grasping at straws trying to link the two things.”

“What else did the person say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Whoever it was didn’t get to stay long enough. When he realized I had a weapon, he took off. The cops got there and we searched the area, but came up empty.”

He saw her swallow. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“I think a better question is, do we have any enemies in common?”

“But we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks.”

Brandon lifted a brow. Had it been such a short time? It seemed as if he’d known her a lot longer. “Exactly. The only thing we have in common is your case.”

“Heather Bradley.”

“Yes.”

“So someone doesn’t want us looking for her? But who would even know?”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, but it’s the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. But most likely you’re right. The two incidents probably aren’t connected.”

“You don’t have an alarm system?”

“I don’t.”

“I’m surprised.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I never really felt the need for it. I don’t have anything worth stealing and I have a gun on my nightstand and know how to use it.” He paused. “After last night I might reconsider, though.”