One Last Hold (26 page)

She took a breath, tried to calm herself, tried to bite back the tension. She was on a road. A lone car couldn’t do a damn thing to her.

Except speed up, crash into her, kill her.

The car did speed up, and it didn’t appear the driver was being cautious anymore. She frantically searched for her phone, realizing she needed to calm down when she found it where it always was, within an arms distance away. She entered the freeway again. At least he couldn’t do anything too stupid if there were witnesses.

The car followed, closer this time.

*

“What in the hell?” Tim studied his sister’s birth certificate and wondered why anyone would be interested in having a copy, and where in the hell they got it from. A copy of Johnson’s, Wesley’s, and another boy named Jonathan Keegan who, according to the birth certificate, was a few years younger than Wesley.

“Do you know this person?” Tim asked, handing the paper to Wesley.

Wesley took the birth certificate and handed Tim one in return. “Check that one out. I don’t know that name either.” Wesley rolled his shoulders and rounded his neck, stopping when he noticed Keegan’s name. He flicked his finger on the name. “Jonathan Keegan. The only Keegan I know is Dad’s stepson.”

“Look at this,” Tim exclaimed. “The one you just handed me belongs to Jack Forrester.”

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know,” Tim replied, “but he’s listed as the father of that Keegan guy. Shit…” He threw the papers at Wesley. “Your dad had a twin. The birthdays on this one and your dad’s are the same. The time is only four minutes apart.”

*

When Caitlyn called a few minutes later, Wesley eyed Tim and stepped away, out of Tim’s hearing range.

What was she doing calling at close to midnight? He was still trying to wrap his mind around everything he’d just learned and the thought of speaking to her unnerved him.

“Wesley!” His stomach dipped when he heard her frantic voice. He rubbed the nape of his neck as Caitlyn blurted out the reason for her call. “Rayma called earlier to tell me Johnson had a twin.
A twin
. I went to Blake’s office to look over things and found out his twin was killed. His name was Jack Forrester and I believe he’s Keegan’s dad.”

Woah woah woah, she’d gone back to Blake’s office in the middle of the night by herself?

He returned to the living room and found Tim amongst the papers. “Where are you?” he asked again, and snapped his fingers at Tim, mouthing ‘
call your pilot
.’ Wherever the hell she was, he was going after her to make sure she was safe.

“Driving down I-35. Someone’s following me.”

Wesley’s pulse nosedived, his head spinning, limbs heavy. He didn’t want to be paranoid, but…fuck. “Go to the police. Now. Don’t go home. Don’t lead him anywhere except straight for the police department. Call them before you get there and let them know what’s going on.”

“What
is
going on?”

“I don’t know. Make sure they know someone is following you and you feel you’re in danger. Tell them to send someone. And stay there until I get there.”

“Why would I be in danger? Your father’s twin is dead. He died twenty-five years ago. I found the obituary.”

Wesley puffed out a breath and glanced at Tim to make sure he was making that call. Although Tim eyed him warily, he was on the phone.

He turned away. “Caitlyn,” he growled, his voice rough, his body on edge, on fire. He needed to tell her he was sorry. Needed to tell her he wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go.

“I’m calling Rayma–”

“No!”

“She doesn’t know the twin could be Keegan’s dad.”

“You call the police department. I’ll call Rayma.”

Rayma probably should have left Keegan’s house, but she was desperate to understand the lies. Maybe if she was supportive enough, he’d open up to her.

“Let’s go,” he commanded with a gruff and finished tying his shoes.

“Where?”

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

“It’s after midnight.”

Keegan clasped her hands and gazed at her before bumping his forehead to hers. “I know, babe. I have a surprise.”

“You seem frantic.”

“It’s just because I’m nervous. I have something important to tell you.”

Rayma followed Keegan out the door, her footsteps sluggish. Oh God, please, please don’t let this be a proposal.

Was she making a mistake? Going with him after she’d learned some pretty crazy stuff?

He unlocked her side of the car without saying anything then quickly paced to the driver’s side. He started the car, but sat there in silence for a moment, contemplating his next move. He gawked at her almost in desperation and clutched her hands as he pulled her towards him, kissing her.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Rayma’s lips trembled as she forced a smile. She
wanted
to love him, but she wasn’t sure she could after three months.

She nodded. “Of course.”

Keegan seemed to be the right guy for her. They seemed to want the same things: children, a career that didn’t consume their life, time enough to spend together, and a big house with the proverbial picket fence. So what if he hadn’t told her his mom had been a prostitute? It wasn’t his fault, and it was a long time ago.

Some things, though, a woman couldn’t overlook. As long as nothing illegal was going on in his life, or anything that would demean her as a woman, she could overlook many things. But she wasn’t ready for marriage.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

Keegan pulled away from her and tweaked her nose. He slammed the car in reverse and backed out, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating his face.

“My mother was a prostitute,” he began. Rayma sagged against the seat and listened, relieved that he decided to tell her. “She met a man and fell in love, and I was born. Later on, but not at first, this man changed her life, helped her to get away from that life. He’d served time in prison before, and he needed to clean up on his own act before he could help her. He wanted to make a life for himself somehow.

“His mother was a crack whore, which kind of explains why he wanted to help my mom out so much. He never knew his father. Come to find out, he had a twin brother he didn’t know about. She gave one of them up for adoption and for some reason kept my dad. Maybe she thought it’d help her straighten up her life. I don’t know…”

He trailed off in thought.

Rayma didn’t say anything nor let on she found this out hours ago. Even though Esther was a total bitch, Rayma admired her for cleaning up her life like that. People made mistakes.

“Are you talking about your mom, Esther?” Rayma finally asked after Keegan was silent. She knew the answer.

He nodded, stopped at a red light, looked both ways, and proceeded to a place he hadn’t defined to Rayma. “My father helped her get out of the life she led, and he came into a lot of money so we lived well. Only, he eventually got another family and left us on the sidelines as he tried to better himself in a community he didn’t belong to. He didn’t forget about us completely, but we weren’t allowed to know him as we knew him then. My father…you have to know that before that, my father spent a lot of time in and out of prison. He had a hard life, never had a lot of money, but he found an opportunity and took it. Eventually, though, he moved us with him.”

Rayma massaged his neck as he drove, feeling sorry for the childhood he must have had. She wondered if he had ever tasted the sweetness of fixing Christmas cookies with his mother, licking the bowl while he watched them baking in the oven. Small things like those experiences added up to make a person.

“He had a twin brother he didn’t find out about until later, when I was a baby and before he changed our lives. His brother came looking for him. He wanted to meet him. Only, my dad had enemies and some of them wanted him dead. They killed his twin brother, never knowing the truth. They thought they killed Jack Forrester.

“My dad stole this man’s identity and took over his life. And he continues to help people desiring to change their identity by inventing a new one. People who are running or hiding from something. All it takes is careful skill. He creates their driver’s license, birth certificates, and bank accounts. He gives them a whole new life, a career they always wanted. And it’s worked for several people, as long as they stay out of the limelight and away from the law.”

Rayma heard what he said but it wasn’t all sinking in. Her mind was still focused on what he said earlier. They
thought
they killed his father?

“They thought they killed my dad, Jack Forrester,” Keegan repeated. “It was his twin, Johnson Webb they really killed.”

Caitlyn awoke to stifling heat and darkness. Parched throat. Caked eyelids.

Her head felt like someone had taken it off, packed it with rocks, and twisted it back atop her body, only crooked. Her tight chest made breathing impossible and she opened her mouth, gagging at the smell of ammonia and decay.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, but the pain was overwhelming. She placed the heel of her palm on the bridge of her nose and sat a moment, trying to breathe away the pain and figure out where she was.

She was sitting on a concrete floor. A grimy concrete floor. She shook her hands away from her body, then wiped them on her shirt.

Where was she?

She blinked away the gooeyness on her eyes then glanced around. A microscopic light wavered under a door above her, but no steps led up to that door. Besides that light, she faced utter darkness. She guessed this was a basement. A creepy, crawly, soggy basement.

How had she’d gotten here? She remembered being at work, finding the info, being followed.

Johnson…She’d made it to the police department and realized Johnson was the one following her. He’d called out to her, and they stood outside as he apologized profusely and begged her to listen. Claimed Blake was out to destroy him, was using her to do it, and he was worried about Wesley. When an officer came out to ask if she was okay, she’d told him yes and agreed to meet Johnson at a twenty-four hour café.

But…Johnson? Was he responsible for this?

She groaned, but that only stimulated the pebbles of sand that seemed to lodge in the back of her throat. She croaked a “hello?” and crawled along the floor, using her hands to find her way around the cold concrete, wincing when she brushed against something questionable. No telling what her hands would have on them if she could see. Judging from the odor, rodents and possibly cats frequented the area. Probably slithery creatures or creepy crawlies. Her clothes stuck to her, hopefully from the humidity and not from blood.

God, where was she? She tried crawling to the door but a spasm of pain kicked her spine and knocked her to her side. She coughed, rested her head against the concrete, and tried again. If she could get to that door, maybe she’d find hidden stairs.

She reached around for her purse but found nothing. Her hand bumped against a hard wall and she tried to walk her way up it. At least that could keep her upright.

Her legs buckled, even with most of her weight leaning on the wall.

Suddenly, the door squeaked open and a blaze of light followed. A shadow of a person, several shadows actually, followed by a scream. She tried to cry out, but the woman’s screams and men’s hushed voices silenced her and she focused on anything and everything she could. Someone beamed a flashlight, the down strokes making it impossible to see. She heard a screech and a bump before the light was gone and the door closed, imprisoning her once again.

The woman grunted. Caitlyn tried her best to hurry to her but she had to grope around the floor, using the woman’s whimpers as a beacon for which direction to take.

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn whispered. She stroked the woman’s her hair, once probably soft but now matted into tangles. Something about her was familiar, but without light to guide her, she couldn’t guess.

“Caitlyn?” she moaned.

She went weak. “Rayma?” They hugged, and Rayma softly cried. “It’s okay,” Caitlyn tried to assure her, but was unable to believe it herself. “Where are we?” she asked, hoping Rayma got a glimpse before being pushed into this hellhole.

“In…a basement,” Rayma said, having trouble voicing her words. “On Johnson’s…land. It’s under…his barn. Most people would…never suspect.”

“What happened?”

“Oh God,” Rayma said. “Keegan, he pushed me in here. I didn’t take his news the way he wanted me to.”

“What news?”

Caitlyn held Rayma as she told her what she’d learned of Keegan and Johnson. “I should have tried harder,” she said. “I should’ve pretended I took the news graciously. I should have gone along with it. If only I were an actress, I might be able to help you. Now I’m stuck here and there’s nothing we can do.” Rayma started crying again.

“You wouldn’t have known I was in here if you had gone along with his plan,” Caitlyn assured her. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out.”

“They’re going to kill us,” she said. “They’re leaving, they’re probably working on their new identity now and if they don’t kill us, we’re gonna die in here. He offered to take me with him. I should have played along.”

Caitlyn crooned to her, passing on false reassurances. No, Rayma shouldn’t have played along. Her life would have been in danger no matter what.

Johnson wasn’t Johnson?

So Johnson, the real Johnson, had been dead for years? She never truly knew the real Johnson, and neither had Wesley for that matter. He would have only been three at the time.

Had Samantha known? No, no way. She took this man in and thought he was her husband, who had been gone for three years. Wesley said himself she thought he changed, but accepted him. Samantha had never known her husband had a twin brother, had she? She’d wanted her family back, wanted her son to have a father, and was unaware of the evil this man had devised to change his life.

Maybe he did want a better life for himself and saw this as a perfect opening. Maybe he truly did have a good heart but not enough chances to prove it. No, what this man did was wrong, and he hurt a lot of people in the process.