Look-Alike Lawman

He shook her hand, then crossed the room to retrieve the box of “cop props” he’d brought to show the kids. He paused to pick up a baseball glove that had been kicked under a nearby table, but when he turned to give it to Miss Gilbert, she was no longer in the room.

He glanced down at the kid-size glove in his hand and smiled. He still had his own junior-size one stashed in a box in his closet. The kid who’d left this one behind wouldn’t sleep a wink all weekend not knowing until Monday if it was safe. Memories of the years he and his younger sister and brother had lived in rural Appleton flooded back. Of the times after the woman he knew as Mom died and Dad returned them all to the city and became immersed in medical school. Times when the highlight of his day was when his dad tossed a few balls with him before burying himself in his textbooks.

Gray thoughtfully turned the glove in his hands, noticing a name printed on it with a black felt-tip marker.

C. Lopez.

Cory, whose dad had died in an attempt to serve and protect. He started to toss the glove to a nearby table, but something on the inside edge caught his eye. A label. Cornelio Tomas Lopez.

And a street address.

The boy’s eyes, hungering for reassurance, pierced Gray’s memory—followed by the remembrance of the flashing gaze of his beautiful, standoffish mother.

Miss Gilbert said Cory’s mom loved him. That she did her best to provide for him and give him the attention he needed. He knew from his experiences with Jenna and Michael, though, that it wasn’t easy being a single mom raising a boy on your own.

He tightened his grip on the ball glove, his gaze lingering on the inner label.

No, don’t even think about it, Wallace.

Chapter Two

She’d just stepped out the front door when an unfamiliar silver SUV pulled up at the curb behind her car.

Cory’s Officer Wallace got out.

Elise’s grip tightened on her car keys. What was he doing here? How did he know where she lived? Surely Miss Gilbert wouldn’t share her address with a flirtatious cop of all people. If he’d followed her home to hit on her, he could climb back into his vehicle and head on down the road.

“Mrs. Lopez?” a warm, masculine Texas twang called out as he rounded the SUV and approached. His gaze swept the apartment house and yard in one of those looks she knew quickly—and accurately—assessed the neighborhood. These were her circumstances...and he clearly found them lacking. But his smile nevertheless broadened as he held up something in the hand unfettered by a sling. A baseball glove. “Cory forgot this.”

Thoughtful on the surface, but why had he made such an effort to deliver it personally unless he had an ulterior motive? She gave him an uncertain smile as he came to stand before her. He was taller than she’d originally thought, with a strong, clean-shaven jaw. High cheekbones. Straight nose. His confident, captivating eyes were an unusual light brown, like burnished oak edged with a darker shade. Thick, dark lashes.

Eyes a woman could too easily get lost in.

Nor had she missed that the hand extending from the sling’s edge was ringless—although it wasn’t uncommon for cops on duty not to wear one.

“I’m Grayson Wallace, ma’am. I visited the elementary school today. Met your son.”

As if Cory would let her forget. Or if she could forget her brief, disconcerting encounter with the handsome lawman. “Good afternoon, Officer Wallace. This is a surprise.”

“I imagine so.” Lines crinkled around the corners of his eyes as he undoubtedly recognized the suspicion in her own—telltale lines that signaled this was a man who liked to laugh. Who enjoyed good times. “I didn’t want him to go all weekend without his ball glove. I know when I was his age, I’d have gone crazy if I’d thought I’d lost mine.”

He held out the leather glove, his gaze never leaving hers, but she mishandled the exchange and it slipped from her fingers. His hand brushed hers as he deftly caught it.

“Sorry, ma’am. My fault.”

His gaze trapped hers once more as he again handed it to her. She tucked the glove securely under her arm, then brushed back a strand of hair straying from her chignon. She’d dealt with plenty of men who’d tried to overstep their bounds since Duke’s death. Returning a beloved baseball glove was one more creative ploy to get a foot in the door of her personal life. She could send this one packing, too.

“Thank you. Cory didn’t notice it was missing until we got home. Pretty upset. He wanted to call a policeman to retrieve it because I didn’t have time to go back.” Any excuse to see his Officer Wallace again.

“So it is a special glove.” The smiling eyes sobered. “His father gave it to him?”

Perceptive man.

She nodded. “For his fourth birthday. A few weeks before...”

Her gaze faltered as her voice drifted off. Some days it was still hard to talk about. Especially uncomfortable to discuss with another police officer.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Lopez.” He studied her with a sincere respect, any hint of flirtatiousness extinguished. “I never met your husband, but I knew of him. He was a fine officer.”

“Thank you. He was.”

He broke eye contact. Like many others, he no doubt found it difficult to talk to the widow of a fallen comrade. What can you say that hadn’t already been said? Besides, what cop wanted an in-your-face reminder that some police officers, like soldiers, never come home?

“Officer Wallace! What are you doing here?”

She turned to see Cory dash out the front door, eyes aglow with curiosity and excitement. He jerked to a halt beside her, an eager gaze fastened on their visitor.

“He brought you this.” She reluctantly handed him his baseball glove, not thrilled to elevate the police officer any higher in her son’s estimation than he already was.

“Oh, man. Oh, man.” Cory thrust his hand into the glove, mixed emotions warring in his eyes. He took a step toward the uniformed man, hesitated, then moved in closer to wrap his arms around the startled officer for a hug. “Oh, man, thank you. I thought someone would steal it.”

Officer Wallace’s hearty laugh rang out as he returned the enthusiastic embrace, his gaze flickering to hers and holding it longer than necessary. “You’re welcome, Cory. I know what a favorite glove can mean to a guy.”

Flustered, she glanced at her watch. “Thank you again for going out of your way for Cory. But he needs to get to his homework, and I need to get back to my job.”

He smiled down at her son. “Can’t slack on the homework, mister. Wannabe police officers have to keep up their grades.”

Cory groaned, then lifted a hand for a parting high five before trotting back to the house, the glove held high in triumph.

Still smiling, the officer turned to her, his probing gaze setting loose a truckload of battering rams in her stomach.

“You’ve got a good kid there.”

She shot him a grateful look. “Most of the time. He’s had his moments lately.”

“It’s not easy on a boy, losing his father.”

“No.” Nor was losing a husband easy. Or discovering he wasn’t who you’d believed him to be. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Mr. Wallace, but if you visit the school again I’d appreciate your not indulging his obsession about becoming a policeman. He talks about it nonstop. It’s not healthy for him.”

Or for me.

He squinted one eye and offered a hint of a smile. He probably thought her overly protective. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, ma’am. He’s six, right? Today he wants to be a lawman. Tomorrow it will be a veterinarian. Or an astronaut. Or a cowboy.”

“I can hope—and pray—that’s so.”

For a moment she thought Cory’s cop was going to say something else. Make an observation. Ask a question. But he merely motioned to her vehicle at the curb. “I’d better let you get on your way.”

“I am cutting it close. Can’t afford to be late.” With a polite but dismissive nod, she moved toward her car. To her dismay, he kept up with her stride for stride.

“Where do you work?”

“Not too far from here. At a medical clinic down the street from that big used-car dealership. You know the one?”

“I do. So, you’re a nurse? Therapist?”

She noticed he didn’t ask if she was a doctor—the neighborhood alone answered that question easily enough. But the assumption that she’d have a degree beyond high school stung. Becoming a physical therapist had long been her dream. But Cory had arrived shy of a year of marriage and Duke had insisted that education take a backseat until the kids—however many came along—were in school.

“No. I’m a receptionist, medical records manager and general go-to gal.”

“So on your feet all day.” A smile tugged as he glanced down at her strappy, high-heeled sandals, the wisdom of which his amused expression questioned.

“Right.” She took a slow breath as she reached her vehicle, unwilling to get too chatty with the undeniably attractive man. No, he hadn’t crossed the lines of propriety as a few had done. He hadn’t boldly hinted that a woman alone might appreciate some male companionship. He hadn’t asked her out. Nevertheless, she kept up her guard. “Thank you again, Officer Wallace, for making a little boy very happy.”

“The name’s Grayson. Or Gray.” He held out his hand.

“Elise,” she offered reluctantly, as his big hand swallowed hers. She didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with this cop.

“Pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

He released her hand, his brown eyes again questioning—as if still attempting to gauge the level of her interest. She braced herself, preparing to share too-often-practiced words to decline coffee. Dinner. Dessert. Or other more presumptuous propositions.

But to her surprise he merely fished momentarily in his uniform shirt pocket, then handed her a business card. Was this the latest strategy in the dating game realm? He thought he’d made a good enough impression that she’d call him?

Arrogant man.

He stepped back. “Good to meet you, Elise—and Cory as well. Hope you both have a great weekend.”

With an absurd prick of disappointment, she watched him stroll to his SUV and climb in, lift his unencumbered hand in a parting gesture and drive away.

She glanced down at the business card and shook her head. Talk about egotistical. But he did have beautiful eyes and was polite.

And speaking of polite, where had her manners gotten off to? He’d gone out of his way to bring the baseball glove and she hadn’t thought to ask how he’d injured his arm. How long he’d been in law enforcement.

Or if she would ever see him again.

* * *

Grayson pulled up in front of the Colby Ranch’s sprawling main house just short of midnight. With considerable effort, he shoved aside the nagging thoughts of Elise Lopez and her son that had followed him as each mile stretched westward from Fort Worth. He could admit that if it weren’t for the romantic debacle with Jenna months ago and the severed relationship with her son, he could see himself being drawn to the attractive single mom. Maybe even offering to mentor Cory. But he’d been burned. Badly. Did Jenna’s boy feel the void of his abrupt departure as deeply as he did?

He turned off the ignition and, still gripping the steering wheel, sat staring at the two-story brick home, a few of its windows faintly aglow even at this late hour. The distinctive sweet, dry scent of western Texas wafted through his rolled-down window. The occasional low of distant cattle teased his city-accustomed ears, reminding him of his earliest boyhood years in another small rural town.

Had it been only a month since he’d returned from his undercover assignment to emails and frantic phone messages from his sister? He’d thought she’d lost her mind—Dad missing, a biological mother deep in a coma and an identical twin for both him and Maddie. But one look at their twins last weekend had settled any doubt about the blood connection. They were kin, all right. Maddie’s wild stories were true, but unfortunately Dad hadn’t been located despite his and his siblings’ best efforts.

“Lord,” he whispered, absently massaging his injured shoulder, “you’ve gotta help me out here. Every fiber of my body wants to head straight back to Fort Worth. I don’t want to deal with this.”

He squared his shoulders as he exited the SUV and stretched his stiff legs. His newfound family was counting on him to locate Dad and find answers to the thousand and one questions they all had about their heritage. Questions no one but Dad or the woman going by the name Belle Colby could answer.

But that was another worm in the apple. Belle—he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as “Mom”—lay unconscious at Ranchland Manor, a care facility a few miles away in Grasslands.

Having retrieved his duffel bag from the backseat, he’d barely headed toward the house when Maddie, Violet and Jack stepped onto the front porch to offer a warm welcome. All they needed was their baby brother, Carter—a marine on overseas deployment and still unaware of all the family drama—to make their homecoming complete.

“Grayson!” Maddie’s breathless voice warmed him as he approached. His city-gal sis sure had taken to the country life since she and Violet had stumbled across each other in Fort Worth last July. A God-engineered coincidence for sure. “We were starting to get worried. Thought you’d never get here.”

“Got a late start.” No point in telling his nosy sister that a beautiful woman had been the cause. He’d never get a moment’s peace.

Under the dim porch light, his brother Jack hung back, snatching uncomfortable glances in his direction as Violet and Maddie—both mindful of the sling—enveloped Gray in exuberant hugs. Jack’s hair was longer than his, grazing the collar of a Western-cut shirt, and it appeared he didn’t keep at that pesky five o’clock shadow as diligently as did his cop brother.

Clear, too, that he and Jack still shared an awkwardness despite efforts to get beyond the unnerving situation last weekend when they’d first met. Maddie and Violet didn’t seem to have that problem. You’d have thought they’d grown up together. They even had similar mannerisms and could finish each other’s sentences.

But he and Jack, while polite and friendly enough on the surface, were strangers. On guard. Uncomfortable with the whole situation.

When the sisters’ lively welcome calmed down, Gray’s twin thrust out his hand. “Good to have you back.”

“Good to be back.”

But from the wary look in Jack’s eyes it was apparent he, too, recognized both were parroting expected pleasantries.

Inside the house Gray again sensed, as he had at his first visit, an emptiness in the home of his birth mother. He could detect a subdued, almost reverential hush in a place he’d been told that a few months ago she’d filled with love and laughter. It was evident, too, that Jack and Violet were out of their element in her absence and grieving her tragic situation.

Out of a sense of obligation—and curiosity—he’d joined his siblings in a visit to Belle at the Grasslands care facility last weekend. It had been another surreal moment as he’d stared down at a still-beautiful woman in her early forties, auburn hair spread across a pristine white pillow.

He’d been denied the opportunity to know the woman who’d cradled him and his twin side by side in her womb for nine months, who had given birth to them so many years ago.

Why?

From all he’d picked up on since the revelation of the family’s state of affairs, she loved Jack and Violet with all her heart. Treasured them. Had she not felt the same way about him and Maddie? How could a mother choose between children?

“Gray?” Jerked from his inadvertent reverie, he turned to Maddie as they entered a spacious, warmly lit kitchen. “Kendra—I mean, Keira—and I are bunking together in the same room, so you can have mine like last weekend.”

Keira was Jack’s fiancée, a savvy blonde who’d landed on the Colbys’ doorstep last month after a car accident left her without memory. They’d called her Kendra since she didn’t have any ID on her. Thankfully, her memory eventually returned and they’d learned her real name was Keira Wolfe and she was a veterinarian. Jack had promptly staked his claim.

“I don’t want to keep putting you ladies out.” It was a five-bedroom place, but the master suite—Belle’s—remained unoccupied. “The couch in the den would suit me fine.”

His sisters made identical sounds of protest.

“It’s just for tonight.” Violet linked her arm through his uninjured one and once again he found himself staring in disbelief at her very existence. She looked amazingly like her twin, but with a country freshness all her own. A sprinkling of freckles. Auburn hair caught up in a long ponytail, she exuded a comfortable confidence no doubt born of a lifetime of ranching. “Jack’s moving out to his new place tomorrow.”

Jack had taken on a seventy-year-old house known to locals as the old Lindley place, the spread it sat on now part of the Colby Ranch.

He glanced at his brother. “That a fact? I imagine you’re considerably more motivated to complete that renovation than you might have been a month ago.”

Jack’s eyes lit up and he offered his first grin. “A little lady will do that to a man. Get ready, Grayson. Your time’s coming.”

“Don’t know about that.” He ducked his head, wary that his perceptive sis might read his mind—pick up on an image of the beautiful Elise who’d filled his thoughts in recent hours. “I’m kind of attached to a bachelor life.”

“Oh, Gray,” Maddie blurted, placing her hands on her hips, “you’re still wallowing in the after-effects of that breakup. Give yourself time.”

He shot her a warning look. He didn’t want to discuss his old girlfriend tonight. Certainly not in front of his newfound siblings—although he suspected from the way Violet nodded knowingly that Maddie had already filled her in. Dealing with one sister was challenging enough. Now he had two.

“Jack’s been there, done that.” Violet looked to their brother for confirmation. “He was crazy about a gal before she dumped him. But now that Keira’s come along, he can barely remember Tammy’s name. God knows what He’s doing, Gray. He closes one door and opens another.”

Gray managed a smile in Jack’s direction, figuring he didn’t much care for the sharing of his personal business any more than his twin did. Poor guy. He’d been dealing with two sisters for months now, but how long would it take to get used to the double-barreled powerhouse pair they’d become?

Leaning against the kitchen countertop, Gray accepted a cold glass of water from Maddie.

“You don’t see me sweating it. No rush. God can take all the time He needs.” What a lie. Sounded good, but didn’t have much substance. He was ready to settle down. Start a family. But his profession of choice was proving to be a detriment. “Besides, there are enough weddings in the works for one family.”

Not only was Jack engaged, but Maddie recently pledged herself to the Colby Ranch’s foreman, Ty Garland. And Violet had caught the eye of one of Maddie’s old beaus, Landon Derringer. A lot had happened during the months Grayson had been on his undercover assignment.

Jack held his gaze with a knowing one of his own, probably seeing through to the reality of Gray’s marital protests, his allegiance to the bachelor way of life. A guy had his pride, after all.

“Always room for one more wedding, bro.”

What his brother didn’t mention, though, is that the siblings had come to the same conclusion. Until their dad returned safely—and Belle recovered—no one would be tying any knots. As much as Gray didn’t like to think about it, how long would they stick with that vow if the weeks and months drew out? Belle had been in a coma since midsummer, with no sign of rejoining the world. Maddie and Landon had journeyed to south Texas in August to look for their dad. Keira and Jack tried again in September. Would their father turn up at Thanksgiving as he’d originally planned—or not?

While he couldn’t do anything but pray for their mother, Gray could continue the search for his dad. He’d already filed a missing person’s report and put his law-enforcement channels to good use.

But would his efforts be enough?

With so many issues about their parentage in turmoil and Belle so badly off, he needed to deliver to his family a positive outcome for their dad’s situation. That would be one step in the right direction for a happily-ever-after on all counts.

And in spite of protests to the contrary, meeting a certain pretty brunette had him admitting he wouldn’t mind settling down with a happily-ever-after of his own.

Chapter Three

“Hurry up, Cory.” Elise glanced back at her lagging son as she walked briskly to their vehicle in the dimly lit grocery-store parking lot. Purse secured. Keys in hand. Her gaze alert to their surroundings.

Normally she shopped for groceries on Saturday morning, especially in the fall and winter as days grew shorter and didn’t allow much time for after-work errands. Thank goodness for daylight savings time, but it would expire in another month. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten until this evening that she’d promised to make a red velvet cake for their youth pastor’s birthday potluck after church tomorrow. She couldn’t find a single drop of red food coloring in the kitchen cabinets.

“Mom?” Cory crawled into his seat and she locked the doors. Started the car.

“What?”

“When’s Officer Wallace coming to the school again?”

As the overhead interior light faded, she looked into her son’s hopeful eyes. He’d talked nonstop about Officer Wallace for the past twenty-four hours. How cool his badge was. How he’d brought him the ball glove. How he knew Daddy was a hero and said it was an honor to meet his son.

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Career day is once a year. It’s doubtful he’ll be back anytime soon.”

The glow in his eyes faded momentarily, then brightened. “Maybe he’ll come to visit anyway, to say hi to the kids.”

She didn’t want Cory to get his hopes up. The likelihood of Officer Wallace’s return was slim. Yes, he’d made a memorable impression on them both, but it didn’t take long for reality to set in. For her guard to go up. It was best for all concerned that Officer Wallace keep his distance. Unless she called the number on his business card, she suspected he would.

But she wouldn’t call him. Not even for Cory. Especially not for Cory. Another cop in his life was too risky.

She smiled again at her son as she put the vehicle in gear and backed it out of the parking place. “He has an important job, sweetheart, so it’s doubtful he could stop by even if he’d like to.”

“I wish he would.”

Heading into the darkened street, anxious to get home, she almost caught her own wishes echoing her son’s.

But that was stupid.

And she wasn’t a stupid woman.

* * *

Gazing down at the comatose Belle Colby, hooked up to medical paraphernalia of every imaginable kind, Grayson harbored the same frustration as his siblings at not being able to get desperately needed answers to their questions.

Although his siblings had picked up rumors from a former neighbor of the then still-intact family, what was the real reason Belle and his dad split? Why had they separated Maddie and him from their twin counterparts? The boys had been two, the girls not much beyond six months. Why had his father led him to believe Sharla Wallace was his birth mom?

Grayson gripped the black, leather-bound Bible in his hands. Did Belle know who’d sent these Bibles to him, his twin brother and two sisters? He and Maddie had received them in June, after their dad headed out on his six-month medical mission and not long before Grayson went undercover. No postmark. No return address. Later, Violet had found one on the seat of her car after church and Jack’s had turned up on the hearth of the home he was renovating.

They all held the same handwritten, anonymous note, the words of which were burned into his memory.