fought back tears. “What big city would you recommend, Cain? I can’t remember ever setting foot in a city, any city, until two weeks ago. And since we’ve moved from one small town to another for the past twenty-two years, what city or town do you suggest I call home?” She tapped her index finger on the file folder lying on his desk. “Besides, this report was done by big-city cops. Your old stomping ground, as a matter of fact. The Charlottesville police discovered the documents I had were fake.”
The quiet desperation underlying her words filled him with empathy. Cain offered a silent prayer for wisdom on how he could help this woman.
“Do you have anything else that might indicate your father’s true identity? Maybe an entry in a family Bible or a name on the back of a photograph? Anything at all to give me a place to start?”
She shook her head.
Thoughts ricocheted like pinballs through his mind. “What about the cottage?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “You said it had been in your family for years. There must be legal documents to prove it. A real estate title, for one.”
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe. Like I told you, we’ve owned it for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if there are any papers to prove it. I just figured possession is nine tenths of the law.” She held up an object in her hand. “I have the key.”
A smile danced across her lips and Cain’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, a vulnerability hidden beneath resilience, a shyness buried beneath determination, that drew him to her.
He’d promised himself never again—never get emotionally involved with a woman on one of his cases. He’d learned his lesson the hard way and vowed never to repeat it. This unexpected empathy he felt was unsettling.
She needed his help. And he needed a new client. So he’d help her, despite the fact that fake documents would make it an uphill battle all the way. He’d just have to make sure this time that he used his head, kept things strictly professional between them. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to have any feelings for her…not even empathy. He had no intention of walking down that treacherous path a second time.
Cain crossed around the desk, plopped in the leather chair beside her and clasped his hands between his knees. “I know how hard this must be on you,” he said, leaning forward and locking his gaze with hers. “And I’ll do what I can to help. But I’ve got to be honest here. You’re probably throwing your money away. Fake identities usually lead to dead ends.”
She stood and offered him her hand. “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.”
He clasped her hand in his. He couldn’t bear the look of defeat in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He stood. “Leave me your address. I’ll see if I can locate a real estate title on the property. And I’ll include it in the consultation fee you just paid so it won’t cost you any more money. Meanwhile, I want you to go home and look through anything and everything you own for a name, an address, a picture. Anything you think might give me a place to start looking. You find something and we’ll talk again.”
“Thanks.” She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper she pulled from her tote bag and handed it to him.
“Wait a minute,” he called as she crossed the room.
Sophie turned and paused in the doorway.
“At least let me take you to Holly’s for a welcome-to-Promise lunch.”
Yeah, that’s professional. That’s keeping your distance. Invite the client to lunch because she looks at you with lost puppy dog eyes. Are you crazy?
“Taking a client to lunch counts as a business deduction on my taxes. So, believe it or not, you’ll actually be helping me out.” The words tumbled from his mouth even though his brain kept screaming, Idiot! Let somebody else feel sorry for her.
“Just let me know what day is good for you,” he continued. “My sister makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”
Sophie smiled and when she did it lit up the room. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”
Cain crossed to the window and watched as Sophie exited the building. She stopped to help elderly Mrs. Gleason, whose grocery bag had split open. Sophie was chasing oranges along the sidewalk when a movement out of the corner of Cain’s eye caught his attention. A man stood in the shadows of the alley a block up the street. From this distance, Cain could only see the man’s silhouette and the tip of a lit cigarette but something about his stealth caught and held his attention. As soon as the man spotted Sophie, he threw his cigarette to the ground and hopped into a car parked beside him.
Cain glanced back to Sophie. Her hair blew across her mouth and she laughingly wiped it away as she handed the last of the runaway oranges to Mrs. Gleason. With a smile and a wave, Sophie turned to step into the street.
The car barreled out of the alley.
“Sophie!” Cain banged on the glass to get her attention but she was already stepping into the street.
The car accelerated.
Lord, help me, please.
Cain raced for the door.
TWO
A freight train slammed into Sophie’s back. At least it felt like it, as an unexpected force knocked her off her feet and propelled her forward into midair. As she stretched out her hands to break her fall, she felt two arms wrap around her middle, spin her around, and then someone slid beneath her, cushioning her slide across the asphalt.
When the momentum stopped, Sophie found herself staring up at the clouds and wondering what had just happened. Before she could move a muscle, the ground beneath her shifted, someone clasped her waist, lifted her and then gently lowered her so that she was lying on the street.
“Sophie, don’t move. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”
She shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and tried to identify the hulking form leaning over her.
“Cain?” She shifted her weight and a groan escaped her lips when she tried to sit up.
A crowd began gathering around them.
“Cain, are you okay?” A man, older but strikingly similar in appearance to Cain, placed a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “I called it in. Help should be here in a minute.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mrs. Gleason, the woman Sophie had helped with her groceries, stood beside them wringing her hands and saying, “I can’t believe it. I saw the whole thing. That car missed you by inches. You could have been killed.”
“Car?” Sophie tried again to sit up.
“No. Don’t move until the ambulance gets here,” Cain said.
“Ambulance?” She glanced at the faces looming over her and then pushed Cain’s hand away and sat up. “No. Please. I don’t need an ambulance.”
When he saw she was determined to stand, he helped her to her feet.
“What
