Dead Ringer Page 3

  “Browsing through your press clippings?”

  She jumped and swung around to face the man.

  Thomas leaned against the doorframe, his expression a mask of stone. “I guess I should thank you. There has been no notoriety for months. I’ve kept Daniel secluded here on the island to shield him from such unsavory publicity. I never want him to see you as you are. A woman without honor, pride, or morals.”

  4

  Wallace Island, Aegean Sea

  Saturday, May 6

  After the confrontation with Traci, Thomas stood at the window overlooking the beach. Electric blue surf pounded the sand, leaving behind starfish and an occasional turtle. Seagulls perched on large rocks jutting up from the sea and on driftwood along the shore. Past the beach, palm trees with heavy, verdant leaves swayed in the wind.

  The view from the window was serene, unlike the emotions churning in his gut. He’d overheard the meeting between his wife and Nanna in the hallway.

  Traci had never shied away from a screaming match with her grandmother. Yet she seemed...what was the word...almost gentle. She’d never shown a compassionate side since he’d known her. Why the change?

  He shook his head. People didn’t make a one-eighty turn in temperament. Not a woman like Traci. She was a chameleon who adapted to her environment, sticking a finger in the wind to see which way it blew. What was her game this time?

  She’d made a hefty income before their marriage as one of the top fashion models in the world. Not enough to support the lifestyle he’d provided, but well into six figures. After she disappeared, her face vanished from the covers of magazines and the other fashion rags. He’d checked with her modeling agency when he learned of Daniel’s heart problem. The agency was also looking for her.

  Appearances suggested Rossellini hadn’t contributed to her support in Bermuda. The bungalow was far below either of their expensive tastes. Whatever her scheme, it had to be about money. With Traci, it was always about money.

  He stopped mid-pace, something he hadn’t done since she left. The woman was home less than a day, and his blood pressure had risen twenty points.

  He snatched up the satellite phone and checked in with his office in Edinburgh. Had to let his assistant know he wouldn’t be in until next week. When they finished, he asked to speak to his father. He answered after a short wait. “Dad, I’m going to be away from the office for a week. Traci and I are going to devote some uninterrupted time to Daniel.”

  “Traci’s back?” There was a chill in his voice.

  “Yes, just until Daniel is well. He was asking for her, so I brought her home.”

  At the mention of Daniel, his father’s tone softened. “Fine, son. Nothing here we can’t handle until you get back.”

  A couple hours later, Thomas had cleared his desk. He stood and flexed his muscles to ease the stiffness. He punched his hands into his pockets and moved to the window.

  Traci and Daniel came into view, stark against the white sand, strolling hand in hand, picking up seashells. Daniel let go of her hand and rushed ahead as if he’d spotted a prize specimen.

  Must have finished her jog, something else he’d never known his wife to do. Exercise had always been limited to lifting a glass of sangria.

  For a long moment she stood, staring out at the sea. What was she thinking? Already bored with the island and missing the nightlife?

  Daniel dropped an object into his pail and skipped back to slip his hand into hers.

  Finding his wife had cost him. From this distance, the look on his son’s face was worth everything he’d paid, and more.

  Thomas’s gaze moved on to Fergus, standing on a bluff watching the pair. He would keep a watchful eye on them. His old friend distrusted Traci more than Thomas did. The old Scot had argued about bringing her back. “Let sleeping dogs lie,” he’d said. Fergus doted on the boy, and he knew Traci’s ability to hurt the vulnerable child.

  With a shake of his head, Thomas proceeded to the kitchen and hailed the housekeeper. “Edda, have someone prepare a picnic basket for me.”

  The housekeeper greeted his entrance into her domain with a smile. A slim woman in her mid-forties, Edda Hoffman’s stiff personality lacked warmth, but she was efficient at her job.

  “Certainly, Mr. Thomas. Stella made some nice fried chicken, potato salad, and an apple pie for lunch. I’ll have her see to it right away.”

  Thomas couldn’t suppress the smile that creased his face as he hurried upstairs and changed into shorts and sandals.

  Whenever Traci came home to the island, fried food and rich pastries appeared on the menu. The household staff detested her, for good reason. They sabotaged her diet in every way possible. It would cost them when she retaliated, but they fought with the only weapons they had.

  Ah, home, sweet home.

  Lunch in hand, Thomas headed across the terrace and down to the beach.

  Traci and his son watched his approach and waited.

  “Anybody hungry?”

  Daniel ran over and placed one hand on the basket. “Me, Daddy. Want to see my shells? We found some shiny gold ones.”

  “Great, you can show me your collection while we eat.” He spread a blanket on the sand and placed the food on top.

  Thomas reached inside the container and handed Daniel a chicken leg. He grabbed a plate and added potato salad and a slice of pie for the boy.

  He turned to Traci. “What will you have?”

  She looked into the well-laden container. “Whatever’s handy. It all looks good. Your cook is quite an accomplished chef.”

  He tilted his head, glad she couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, filled a plate, and handed it to her.

  Mockery? If so, she hid it well.

  Daniel spread his shells out on the blanket for Thomas’s approval.

  “Nice specimens, son. They’ll be great additions to your collection.”

  Daniel refilled his pail and wandered nearby to build a sandcastle

  “Have you been ill?” There was more than a little sarcasm in the question, but she gave him a startled glance.

  “How did you know?” She raised a hand to her hairline. “Ah, you noticed the scar.”

  He scrutinized her brow. A thin, white line began just at the hairline and disappeared into a thick mass of blonde waves. Invisible unless pointed out. “What happened?”

  She lifted her right shoulder, shrugging off the question as if it was unimportant. “An automobile accident. That’s why I was in Bermuda. The doctor ordered rest.”

  “Where did it happen? The accident, I mean?”

  “In Houston. The other person’s fault, or so the authorities said. Lucky for me. His insurance paid all my medical bills, including the rehab in Bermuda.” She stared into his eyes. “What makes you so sure I’m Traci?”

  “You mean aside from the airport’s SDK system?”

  “You mentioned that before. What is it?”

  “In layman’s terms, it’s software that almost all airports have since 9/11. A photo is loaded into the system, usually those of criminals or terrorists. Facial measurements are taken, width between the eyes, length of the nose, hairline, etc. It then snaps pictures when passengers come through customs and makes a comparison. You were a match.”

  “And it’s infallible?”

  “Close enough.”

  “If your wife disappeared—”

  “You are my wife.”

  “Whatever—six months ago, why did it take so long to find me? Why didn’t it pick me up months ago when I left Houston, or when I first arrived in Bermuda?”

  “You were only programmed into the system two weeks ago. My last ditch effort to find you.”

  Perception dawned in her brilliant blue eyes. “That would have been when I returned from Houston after filling out personnel forms for Sabine Oil.”

  Thomas lay back on the blanket and propped his head on his elbow, keeping an eye on Daniel. “Why Sabine Oil? Why not modeling?”

 
; She scoffed. “Because I’m a trained geologist. I really need that job. What happens after two months? You take me back to Houston, and I join the ranks of the unemployed?”

  He shook his head, deciding not to play the game. ”How’s the outing going?”

  “Don’t change the subject. I want to know what happens when you discover I’m not who you think I am. And how do I get my cat back?”

  He threw his napkin down, feeling the hot flush of blood rushing to his face. “When Daniel is well, if you want a job, I’ll see to it. I already told you I’d take care of the blasted cat.”

  She nodded and looked out across the water that almost matched the deep color of her eyes. “Daniel...he’s very intelligent for a six-year-old, with an active imagination. But he’s too serious for a child his age. It’s like talking to an adult. When’s he’s better, he needs children to play with. Are there other families on the island?”

  She should know the answer, although to be fair, she rarely left the villa when in residence. “Only the staff who works for me and their families live here. They have housing, but I’m not sure how many children there are. There’s a small makeshift village, which isn’t much. A ramshackle pub for the men and a few fruit and vegetable stands. My pilot and Daniel’s tutor live in apartments behind the villa.”

  “Is there a church?”

  “Of sorts. A padre who has a small chapel. Father Paul is older than dirt, but he still holds services every Sunday morning. He came with the island when my grandfather bought it after my dad was born.”

  “Do you attend?”

  This was a discussion he didn’t want to have. Especially not with a secularist like Traci. “I did once, but I gave it up. Too much evil and pain in the world for a loving God to let it continue.”

  Her blue gaze searched his face. “Evil and pain aren’t new. They’ve been around since the beginning of time. Does Daniel go?”

  “He and Nanna attend regularly. Why all this sudden interest in religion? As far as I know, you haven’t set foot inside a church since you were a child and Nanna made you go.”

  Before she could answer, Daniel ran back and plopped into her lap. “Know something, Mummy? You seem different since you came back. You smile more.” He scooped up a shell from his plastic bucket and examined it carefully. “I didn’t use to think you liked me, and I wondered why I made you mad all the time.”

  She smoothed the hair from his brow and turned his head so he had to look into her eyes. “There would have to be something very wrong with anyone who didn’t like you, Daniel. You are the smartest, sweetest, most handsome little boy I know.”

  Thomas’s throat constricted at the glow that seemed to settle on Daniel’s face. That one compliment from his mother did more for his self-esteem than a thousand from someone else.

  God help her if she ever did anything to crush his spirit again.

  

  The long day finally over, Mercy retired to her room to follow her usual routine. Shower, brush teeth, and slip into her pajamas.

  All the comforts of home. Who was she kidding? Her home had never been anything like this.

  She stepped into the tiled enclosure, turned on the rain-shower head full force, and stood there, letting the water run from the top of her head down over her face.

  Everything that had happened to her since yesterday seemed bizarre. One minute she was walking down a Bermuda street, the next minute whisked in a private plane to a lush island, told she was the wife of a man she’d never seen before and mother to a six-year-old boy.

  Would anyone believe it? Even she didn’t believe. What could she expect going forward? So far, he had treated her well. Royally, in fact. Perhaps she should be afraid, but somehow she wasn’t. She had the impression Thomas Wallace no longer found his wife desirable. He’d probably moved on. Who could blame him?

  Thomas Wallace didn’t appear to be insane. Somewhat delusional? Yes. But not crazy. He appeared to have good reason for his delusion. She wondered about his wife. Of course, with his looks and money, he would have no trouble finding women to share his affection. He probably had to beat them off with a stick.

  She was here for Daniel’s sake. Nothing more.

  Water therapy didn’t help her confusion. She reached for the shampoo and washed the sand from her hair and then pulled on a thick, white robe. Standing in front of the elaborate dressing table, she towel-dried her hair.

  Should she go say good night to Daniel?

  Of course. He thought she was his mother.

  She slipped into blue silk pajamas and a matching robe and went next door. She knocked. “Daniel, may I come in?”

  No sound came from inside the room. As she turned to go, the door opened. “Mummy?”

  “I didn’t wake you, did I? I just wanted to say good night. May I come in?”

  He smiled, nodded, and dashed back into bed.

  She followed and pulled a chair close to the bedside. “Are you feeling well?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you say prayers before you go to sleep?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Would you like me to listen while you say them?”

  In answer, he jumped to the floor and knelt beside the bed.

  She joined him on her knees.

  He peeked through his fingers and began. “Thank You for the world so sweet, Thank You for the food we eat. Thank You for the birds that sing. Thank You God for everything. And God, thank You for Mummy coming home. Amen.”

  She swallowed, waiting for the tightness in her throat to loosen. “That was beautiful, Daniel. Thank you.” With a kiss on the top of his head, she tucked him in.

  Back in her room, she flipped off the lights and slipped between the cool sheets. She tossed for an hour, unable to shut off her thoughts of the little boy. Outside the open French doors, the incoming tide pounding against rocks on the shore called to her. She put on her robe and slippers and walked out to the balcony. She stood at the rail, arms crossed in a body hug.

  The moon was huge, hanging low just above the sea, making the tips of the waves silver in its brightness. The island was an oasis in a world gone mad, filling her with the illusion nothing bad could ever happen here. Safety was important. The memory of why wasn’t clear, but darkness frightened her.

  The sound of breaking glass startled her introspection, and she peered through the shadows around the pool, its waterfall hidden in the darkness of palm trees. Seeing nothing, she turned back into the bedroom and knelt beside her bed.

  God was in control. He always had been, always would be.

  She didn’t believe in happenstance. There must be a purpose for her presence here.

  

  Thomas sat in the study in his oversized lounge chair and poured two fingers of brandy into a snifter. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass and then downed it. What was wrong with him? Traci had lost her hold on him years ago. Ever since he’d found out about Rossellini. She’d tried to entice him back into her bed, but he refused, unwilling to share his wife with another man. He splashed another drink into the snifter, empting it in one gulp.

  He grabbed his glass and the brandy bottle and headed for the pool. Fresh air would clear his head. He weaved his way to a deck chair, filled the glass again, and placed the bottle on the cool stone deck.

  In the east wing, second-floor bedroom, a light flicked on. Traci’s room. She came out on the balcony and stood in the moonlight. An old familiar ache washed over him. Why was he finding himself drawn to her again? Still the same Traci, and yet she wasn’t. She reflected innocence, a vulnerability that had never been part of her complex personality.

  He had to avoid her. Stay out of her way until she left the island. Before he did something stupid.

  Seizing the snifter, he hurled it against the rocks at the waterfall’s base. The sound echoed in his ears, and glass shards gleamed in the dim lighting.

  He dipped his head under the fall, letting the cool liquid run down his face, w
etting his shirt. Drunk as a barfly. But not so intoxicated he didn’t realize he’d have to have someone clean up the glass in the morning. The waterfall was one of Daniel’s favorite places to play.

  5

  Wallace Island, the Aegean Sea

  Saturday, May 13

  The next to last day of the proclaimed holiday in her honor, Mercy dressed for breakfast.

  There had been unusual activity on the island yesterday. The plane left early and returned late last night. Perhaps a trip for supplies. Somehow, taking a plane to do the grocery shopping seemed a little extraordinary. But this was not a normal household.

  She stepped into the downstairs entryway.

  Nanna waited for her. Dressed in a pale shade of lavender, she smoothed an imaginary strand of silver, perfectly coiffed hair and pulled Mercy close, whispering. “Do you know what’s going on? The men have been acting strangely since yesterday, and Thomas told me not to come to breakfast until I was summoned.”

  Mercy shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. It’s not your birthday, is it?”

  With a throaty laugh, Nanna shook her head. “Not unless my memory has gotten worse than I thought.”

  Thomas appeared in the dining room entrance, a boyish grin on his face. “Good morning, ladies. You may come in to breakfast, now.”

  An elaborately wrapped package sat in front of one of the chairs, which Thomas hurried to hold out. “Nanna, this is the place of honor.”

  She gave him a regal nod, raised a brow in Mercy’s direction, and stared at Thomas. “OK, what’s the occasion? I know it isn’t my birthday, and it certainly isn’t Christmas.”

  He motioned for everyone to take a seat. “In America, they set aside one day a year to honor mothers, always on Sunday. However, since I must return to work tomorrow, we’re celebrating today.”

  Nanna removed the bow, tore away the paper, and pulled out a beautiful, silver and gray Hermes scarf. “Thank you, Thomas. As always, you have excellent taste.”