Down and Dead in Dallas, page 17
“Thanks, Jackson.”
He nodded and looked back over his shoulder for Christine. She caught up with him. “When security activates the sirens, you head home,” he said. “It’s the most efficient way for the team to account for everyone quickly.”
By the time they reached the row of cottages, Christine had a stitch in her side. She kept running, straight through to Caro’s cottage. Minutes later, Christine climbed the steps then collapsed on the front porch swing, hot and winded and huffing.
Jackson scooped her up and hauled her inside. “We can’t be outside until Security signals the all-clear.” He deposited her on the sofa.
She crumpled back against the cushions. “Every muscle in my body is bellowing at me.”
“It’s a pretty good run from the path to the cottages. With the heat, you’re probably a little dehydrated.” He moved to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. “Drink.”
She took it. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “Do you mind if I forage? I’m starving.”
“Not at all,” she said, not yet able to muster the energy to move. If her head would stop swimming, she’d feel a whole lot better. “You can bury me after you eat.”
“You’ll live.” He grinned. “But, baby, you have got to start walking more or running or something.”
“I did walk the treadmill every day—except Sunday… and when I got too busy.”
“How often was that?”
“Exactly? I’m not sure.”
“Roughly?”
“Three, maybe four days a week.”
“So you walked four days a week? Or you got too busy to walk four times a week?”
“I guess I walked twice a week.” She’d become a slug.
“How do you look so good, doing so little?” he asked. “You have a healthy appetite.”
She looked good? That helped revive her. “Great metabolism, I guess.”
Jackson pulled out pots and pans and began dicing vegetables and braising meat. The smells enticed her into breathing more deeply. “Whatever you’re making smells good.” Her arm draped over her forehead. She lifted it to expose one eye and peeked out at him. “Maybe you can wait to bury me after we eat.”
“Sure thing.” Jackson didn’t miss a beat. “Can’t expect a woman to face eternity on an empty stomach.”
They’d just finished eating braised beef and vegetables and cleaning up the kitchen when a knock came at the door.
Standing in the kitchen, Christine started to answer it, but Jackson stopped her. “I’ll get it.” Jackson opened the door. Two men from the security team stood on the porch.
“Hey, Jackson,” one of the men said. “You and Caroline okay?”
“We’re fine,” Jackson said. “What’s going on?”
“Perimeter breach.” He glanced at Caroline. “Everything’s good with you?”
She nodded. Had there been other breaches? Had Caroline been through them? Or would this be new and strange and scary to her, too? “Did you find the person?”
“Not yet.” He didn’t look happy about having to admit that. “Stay inside until you hear the all-clear.”
“Thanks,” Jackson said, then shut the door.
Weak all over, Christine leaned heavily against the cabinet near the sink.
“What is it?”
“I’m worried.” She looked up at him, fear burning her insides fire-hot. “The perimeter breach… It could be Martin.” And here she stood unarmed, her weapon in her purse, secured in a bin inside the building near the Park entrance.
Jackson moved closer to her and held his arms open.
She walked into them and, when he closed his arms around her, she rested her head against his chest. The steady beating of his heart calmed her. “Aren’t you worried that it could be Martin?”
“Not really.” Jackson stroked her hair. “There’s nothing to lead him here. He was detained in Even until we were long gone from there.”
Jackson was right. She hadn’t thought, just reacted in fear. She rewarded him by rearing back and smiling up him. “That makes sense.”
“I’m a sensible man.” He smiled and pecked a quick kiss to her lips. He guided her to the sofa and they sat down.
“Do these breaches happen often?”
“Rarely.” Jackson shrugged. “Village visitors know about Little Independence Day and once in a while they get curious about the festivities. Probably some teenagers just wanting to see what’s going on.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “But if everyone here is here because they have bad trouble outside the Park, I wouldn’t assume it.”
“Oh, no one assumes anything. That’s why we’re under lockdown.” Jackson sat back and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. “Lucas is excellent at his job. If he weren’t, Miss Emily wouldn’t tolerate him.”
Christine sat with her back against the arm of the sofa and they talked about everything and nothing. Jackson fascinated her. He exhibited no fronts, no airs, no pretense or party faces, and no monumental ego. The man had been real and genuine and…perfectly comfortable with himself and others. As at home with the formal Mr. Jenkins as with the eccentric Speckles. “So how does a Dallas chef wind up playing white knight to an abused woman and bringing her all the way here?”
He smiled. “I got lucky.”
Cagy response. She called him on it. “You’ve been acting differently all day today. Have I done something, or made you uncomfortable?”
The surprise in his expression proved he hadn’t expected her to be blunt and just ask. “I don’t know, Caroline. Have you?”
Her instincts had been right. Something was off. “Let’s skip the dancing around. Just say what’s on your mind, Jackson.”
“Okay.” He nodded and sat up straight, then leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “At the tree, you said you had something you wanted to tell me I wouldn’t like.” He grimaced. “Heartbreak was involved.”
Two short siren blasts rent the air.
Startled, Christine jumped, a hand to her throat. “What’s that?”
“The all-clear.” Jackson said. “The Park is secure again.”
She breathed easier. “Oh, that’s good. So they’ve caught the intruder, then.“
“It wasn’t Martin,” Jackson said to ease her mind. “If it had been him, Lucas would have had someone come and tell you.” Jackson walked to the front door and looked outside. “No additional security guards have been posted. It definitely wasn’t Martin.” He made his way back to the sofa and sat down. “Now, tell me what you have to tell me. I’ve been trying to be patient but my mind is spinning with possibilities. Put me out of my misery.”
She wished she could. “I’m afraid what I have to say is going to make you more miserable, and I really don’t want to do that.”
“So you’ve realized I’m crazy about you and you don’t feel the same about me. Is that it?”
He was crazy about her? Her emotions rioted. “No, I’m kind of crazy about you, too.”
“Thank God.” He clasped her hand. “Then tell me. Whatever this heart-breaker is, we’ll work it out.”
She’d lied to him, to his family, his surrogate family. And she still hadn’t found Caro. Did she dare tell him the truth?
Looking at him, she didn’t dare not to—and if she didn’t, Mr. Jenkins would. Hearing this from someone else would be ten times worse.
He could shun her. Boot her out. He would definitely be angry. Would he get over it, or would she lose him?
“Out with it, Caroline.”
“Okay.” She swallowed hard, blinked fast. “Jackson, I’m not who you think I am.”
His jaw clamped down, his expression faded, and shields slid down to guard his eyes. “Who are you?”
Chapter 25
“My name is Christine Branch.” She stiffened, unable to see a way this ended well. “Caroline is my sister. My twin sister, actually.” She paused to try to gauge his response, but noted no change. Was that a good sign or a bad one?
“When Caro left Martin and came to Dallas, she was so broken, Jackson. Just terrified of him and what he would do.” Christine took in a breath, shuttering the memory of her sister bruised and battered. “She needed time and the space to heal. Of course, Martin wouldn’t give her that. Not twenty-four hours after she arrived, he had goons outside my ranchette, trying to intimidate her.”
Christine couldn’t sit any longer. Jackson hadn’t said a word. Not a word. That couldn’t be good, but at least he wasn’t hauling her to the Park exit by the scruff of her neck. “I concocted this plan, Operation Switch and Bait.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean Bait and Switch?”
“No, we had to switch identities first, and then I had to act as bait, to keep Martin away from her,” she explained. “I became Caro and she became me. Martin knew better than to mess with me. The objective was to give Caro that time and space she needed and, on that front, the operation was successful. Caro worked with a counselor in Dallas and, I hoped, she would divorce Martin—which she did do, though it took her a while—while I convinced Martin and his henchmen I was Caroline and kept them busy chasing me.”
She paused for breath and to glance at Jackson, but other than that one brow lift and question, he buried his reaction. Definitely not good. Her insides knotted and she paced, front door to the far end of the sofa. “That went on for months and months. Then Martin showed up at the ranchette, and Caro got fired up. She was sick of it and of him. As me, she stood up to him—at least, according to Nell—Dr. Nell Richmond, her counselor. As soon as Caro booted Martin off the ranchette—again, according to Nell—Caro realized he’d come after me to get to her. That hadn’t occurred to her before then, and I certainly wasn’t going to point it out.” Flustered, Christine shook her hands. “The bottom line was she figured then he would hurt us both. Hurting either of us would hurt her. And we both deserved our lives back.”
Christine paused to collect her thoughts and tried to calm down. Her heart strummed like a revved race-car’s engine. She inhaled three deep breaths, then checked Jackson again. He hadn’t moved. His face was still without expression, though he followed her every move with his eyes. How he was responding to her confession internally only God knew. Before she’d started talking, he’d seemed about to boil over. What she was saying couldn’t be making things any better.
Clueless and without any insight, she went on. “Then Caro called me on Christmas. She was with you at Rose’s. I know that now, though I didn’t then. All she told me was that a chef from Dallas was helping her. In Even, I figured out you were the chef helping her. Thank you for that, Jackson.”
No response.
Totally neutral. Dangerously neutral. “She also told me she was leaving Even within the hour for Sampson Park.” Christine tilted her head. “I spent weeks looking for it but couldn’t find anything. When you told me it was a private estate, that’s when I discovered why I hadn’t been able to find it.” Christine paced the path of fifteen steps to give him time to process what she’d said. With any luck, it would also give him some perspective. “That was the last time I talked with her.” Christine’s nose burned, and tears threatened. “Caro stopped calling. Every Saturday, I wake up hoping I’ll hear from her, and I pray so hard she will call and say she’s okay, but… she hasn’t.”
A fist-sized knot lodged in Christine’s throat. It took her a second to get it down so she could talk again. “I didn’t know what to do about her being missing. Martin’s people were still dogging my heels so I didn’t think he had Caro—though I wondered if maybe he did and he was still hounding me to keep me from being certain he had her. That could’ve gone either way.” She lifted a hand. “I’d flip back and forth on it, sometimes a hundred times a day. I still do.”
A chill slithered through her body. She shook it off. “I had one lead. Caro had been in Even, Georgia. So I finally accepted she wasn’t going to call, and if I wanted to know what had happened to her, I had to find her. I worried I’d lead Martin to her, but that was a risk I had to take. What I know for fact is that if Caro could have called, she would have. So I went to Even to find her.”
Christine plucked up a pillow on the far end of the sofa and squeezed it to her chest. “I got a job at Danny’s Diner to come into contact with as many residents as possible. But for eight days, no one I asked knew Caroline or had ever heard of her.” And every negative response had pushed Christine a little deeper into the despair of ever finding her. “I have to say, I was losing hope. But then you and Rose showed up and I looked through the window and saw Martin standing across the street.”
Choking tears and fear had Christine’s throat thick and the back of her nose burning like fire. She swallowed hard, cleared her throat. “I didn’t know what to do. Then Rose told Billy Joe Baker that Martin was my abusive ex. To know that, she had to have known Caro. And you said you’d protected me before…” Christine pursed her lips, blew out a short burst of air. “I guess, that’s it. You’ve been there for the rest.”
Pausing in front of him, she forced herself not to curl her hands into fists. “Jackson, please. Say something.”
He looked up at her. She’d hurt him; pain and betrayal burned in his eyes.
“I didn’t intend to deceive you. Really, I didn’t. It’s just that I was Caro all those months and I had to keep being her to give her time to get away and to look for her. I was afraid to not be her. I didn’t expect you to come along and, when you did, and Rose—you knew Caro. If I’d told you I wasn’t her, I feared I’d lose my one chance to find her.”
Waiting. Calm. Still. And silent.
Why wouldn’t he say anything? Good grief. “Jackson, I know us connecting on a personal level complicated everything. Under the circumstances, I didn’t want more complications, but it just happened. You happened. I didn’t really get a choice. My head said, don’t get personal. My heart said, the minute we met, it was already personal.” A tear trickled down her cheek. She pretended it wasn’t there. “Maybe this combustion type attraction happens to you all the time, but it was a first for me. I didn’t expect to feel this way. Who could have expected to? I didn’t know anyone could feel this way.”
Watchful but silent. Still nothing. No reaction. Not a sound.
Fear of his reaction fell to anger that he had no reaction. Enough was enough. She’d stood here and faced the music, fessing up—and she’d poured her heart out, and he says nothing? That was just wrong. “I know you’re ticked off at me, but it’s only fair to at least acknowledge what I’ve said.” She frowned. “Just so you know, I’m getting pretty ticked-off myself. You better say something, Jackson.”
A muscle tic started throbbing in his jaw. “You should have told me, Christine.”
That’s it? All this, and that’s all he’s got to say?
“When? At the funeral home when everything was in an uproar about Carl Wooten’s flowers? On the way to Sampson Park—a place I’d failed to find a single mention of on my own? Would you have brought me here anyway? I doubt it.” She shrugged. “When exactly should I have told you, Jackson? In my shoes, when would you have told me?”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I didn’t have the luxury of trusting you. I didn’t even know you.” She calmed her voice. “But I do trust you now.” She met his skeptical look with a firm one. “I do, or I wouldn’t be telling you anything.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Why now?” He frowned. “You’ve acted deliberately since Caroline arrived in Dallas. “So why did you pick now to tell me?”
She could say Mr. Jenkins knew the truth and she wanted to tell Jackson herself first. That was true, but it was actually a secondary reason, and probably best kept to herself. “Because I know you now and I trust you, and because we’re here and I still can’t find my sister. And honestly, because I’m scared. Really scared she’s running and in danger.” Christine revealed the primary reason for her revelation. “She’s not cut out for it. If she had been, I wouldn’t have had to switch lives with her in the first place.”
“Maybe she wasn’t cut out for it then, but clearly she is now or she’d be here.” Jackson sat back. “Caroline told me she had a sister—when I was bringing her here. She didn’t tell me you were twins or that you had been posing as her, or about your Operation Switch and Bait. You could have been killed, Christine. What were you thinking, taking on those kinds of risks?”
“I was thinking I had to help protect my sister from a monster.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t wake up dead.”
“I won’t lie and say there weren’t hairy moments where I feared exactly that would happen. There were.” Jackson was angry. Upset. Maybe even furious. But he was still totally in control. How could he do that? Sitting where he was, she’d be screaming like a banshee. Something was definitely off. “Caroline didn’t tell you anything about Operation Switch and Bait.”
Jackson shook his head, confirming it. “On the way down, we made a pit-stop and an attorney took care of all her legal needs.”
“Legal needs?” Christine asked.
“She wanted to make some arrangements, in case she had to start over fresh with a new identity.”
Christine stilled. Not liking where her mind was going at all. “So you were attracted to her from the start?”
“Good grief, no. I wasn’t at all attracted to her.” He shot Christine a look that showed how far off-base that assumption had been. “That’s exactly why I thought I was losing my mind at the diner in Even. I took one look at you, and it was like being zapped by a thunderbolt. I should have known right then you weren’t the same woman.”
A thunderbolt. That sounded pretty good. Oh… Oh wait. Christine went statue-still. “Are you saying you knew all along I wasn’t Caroline?”
“I should have known it, I said.” He rubbed at his neck. “I guess I knew it, but I didn’t really know I knew it… until yesterday.“ He reasoned through it all, then added, “You look alike but your personalities are different. You don’t react the way she would.”
