Trace - Part Two Read online

  TRACE

  Part Two

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  Deborah Bladon

  Copyright

  First Original Edition, February 2015

  Copyright © 2015 by Deborah Bladon

  ISBN: 9781926440217

  Cover Design by Wolf & Eagle Media

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  The Obsessed Series

  The Exposed Series

  The Pulse Series

  The VAIN Series

  The RUIN Series

  IMPULSE

  SOLO

  The GONE Series

  FUSE

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Thank You

  Subscribe to Deborah’s Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  "Charlotte?" Garrett repeats the name for the third time. "This isn't Charlotte. This is Vanessa. She's a friend of mine."

  "A friend?" Connie's gaze slides over me. "What do you mean a friend?"

  I should be the one to respond but my voice left me the moment Garrett Ryan walked into my field of view. The man is married to my long lost sister? He's the husband who isn't going to let me get away with whatever sinister plot Connie thinks I'm here to hatch? I've never lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Maybe when you step over the threshold of one of these ridiculously over-priced townhomes, you walk into an alternate universe. It wasn't even two nights ago that Garrett was buried deep inside of me pushing me from one orgasm into another in a plush bed in an apartment he claimed was his. Now, he's the spouse of a woman I once shared a mother and father with? I didn't sleep a wink last night. Maybe this is my mind playing tricks on me.

  "We spend time together," he offers in a smooth and controlled tone.

  I haven't known my sister for all of five minutes and I already know that's the wrong answer. The moment she realized I was Charlotte, she almost tore my arm off. I presume that was so she could beat me over the head with it. I can't even fathom what she's about to do now that she knows that her husband has been fucking me. I take two heavy steps back towards the door hopeful that when she lunges at me, I'll be able to slide out of the townhouse and make a mad dash for it.

  "Spend time together?" Her index finger waves past my nose. "What does that mean?"

  I scrub my hand over my face. I knew when I walked into this space that my life would change. It was inevitable. I had visions of my birth mother pulling me into her warm embrace and telling me how she always knew that I'd find my way back to her one day. That dream shattered and has now been replaced with the cold, and unexpected, reality that the man I'm sleeping with married into the family I lost so long ago.

  "Vanessa." His hand reaches out to me as he steps in my direction. "Did my office tell you I'd be here? Is something wrong?"

  I shake my head meekly not able to draw any words to the surface that could begin to explain the path that brought me to this house.

  "She's Charlotte." Connie steps between us. "She has the bracelet."

  "What bracelet?" Garrett's eyes dart down to my wrist as he loosens his navy blue necktie. "I've never seen her wearing a bracelet."

  "It's in her hand." Her hands leap to my right hand, which I’ve pulled, into a tight fist. "She showed it to me."

  "She showed you what?" he shoots back. "You're obviously upset right now, Connie. I think you should go back to the study and wait for me."

  "I'm not going anywhere." She straightens her back. "You're going to tell me right now what is going on between you and Charlotte."

  "Connie? What are you screaming about?"

  I jump at the sound of a man's voice in the approaching distance. I follow Garrett's head as he turns towards the hallway to where an average height, gray haired man is walking. He's old enough to be my father and the fact that he's holding his index finger to the bridge of his nose to keep his glasses in place, adds an unusual charm to his otherwise unexceptional face. I didn't take the time to read far enough into any of the newspaper articles to gather details about my dad. I stare at his face, trying to pull any resemblance to myself from it.

  "My friend Vanessa is here." Garrett signals towards me. "Connie thinks she's Charlotte."

  The knowing glance that the gray haired man throws Garrett suggests that there's a hidden meaning within the words that I can't quite grasp.

  "I'm Leif," he says softly as he extends his hand towards me. "I'm sorry for this. We just suffered a tremendous loss. We're all on edge."

  "Don't touch her." Connie's hand darts out to slap Leif's in mid-air. "Why would you touch her?"

  I clear my throat. I doubt that there's ever going to be an opportune time to jump into the madness of this conversation, but I'm not about to let my sister treat me like I have the plague. "I'm Vanessa."

  "She's not," Connie hisses. "She's Charlotte."

  Leif nods towards me. I catch a glimpse of what looks like veiled compassion in his expression. "Charlotte is gone, Connie. We have been over this dozens of times. She's never coming back."

  "Don't treat me like this," she protests. "I'm telling you both that this is Charlotte. She has Charlotte's bracelet."

  His eyes fall to my hands and I know he's surveying my wrists for the bracelet, just as Garrett did. "We should leave Garrett and Vanessa alone. He'll come back to the study when he's done."

  Garrett nods in agreement. "I need a few minutes here and then the three of us can finish up."

  A few minutes aren’t going to be nearly enough time for me to adequately explain to Garrett how I really feel about men who cheat on their wives. If you add the fact that I'm his missing sister-in-law, the impending discussion is going to take at the very least a couple of hours. A few minutes won't even be enough to lightly scratch the surface of this twisted mess.

  "You both know that Charlotte had a bracelet when she disappeared." Connie stands firmly in place. "This woman has it."

  Leif rubs both sides of his head with his index fingers. "You don't know what you're talking about. A month ago you thought the woman who worked at the bakery was Charlotte. Last year it was that woman who you passed in Central Park. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

  I know that I should step in and correct this man. My mind realizes that the right thing to do is to tell him who I really am. I'm still gripping tightly to the bracelet and to the knowledge that I once lived in this beautiful home and that Connie and I shared a mother and a father. I glance at Leif again studying the curve of his nose and the plane of his forehead trying to find any hint of similarity to my own face.

  "Garrett, you believe me don't you?" She turns abruptly towards Garrett. "You went out and found her, didn't you? Why would you do that
and not tell me?"

  I don't know Garrett Ryan well enough to gauge anything from his demeanor. His arms are crossed over his chest. There are small pellets of perspiration on his forehead. If he's panicked because I'm standing in the doorway of his home within inches of his wife, he's not giving any of that away. If anything, he looks, at most, slightly uneasy.

  "Connie." He leans forward so his face is hovering close to her. "Vanessa is my friend. She came here to see me. Give me five minutes with her and I'll be back in the study and we can talk about this."

  "What do you need to talk to her about?" Her head tilts to the left in my direction, even though her eyes never leave his face. "Just do it now. Say what you need to say to her in front of me."

  "Let's give them a minute." Leif rests both of his hands on Connie's shoulders. "We'll go back to the study."

  "I'm not going anywhere." She tries to pull free of his hands, but he only firms his grasp. "I want to hear what he says to her. I have a right to hear it."

  I've heard of the concept of open marriage but I've never been witness to one in the reality of my life. This woman may think she has a right to listen in on our conversation, and maybe she does. I, for one, just want out of this madhouse.

  "I need to go," I say because it's the only rational thought running through my mind.

  "You think you can just leave?" Connie pulls on the arm of my sweater. "You can't just walk out of here."

  "I'm sorry I bothered you and your wife." I ignore the incessant yanking on my arm and look directly at Garrett. "I won't bother you again."

  Garrett's brows pop up just as he opens his mouth to speak.

  "You're not bothering us at all, Vanessa," Leif says quietly. "I apologize for my wife's behavior. Please stay and talk to Garrett. Connie and I will give you some space."

  Chapter 2

  I scratch the back of my neck as I watch Leif try and guide Connie down the long hallway back to wherever they came from when I first arrived. That moment was only mere minutes ago in tangible time, but it feels as though I stepped over the threshold and into a den of confusion. I knocked on the door to this townhouse with a hope filled heart and now I'm standing alone with Garrett Ryan, unsure of why he's here or what he actually knows about my past.

  "You thought I was married to Connie?" he asks quietly. "Why would you think I was married?"

  I knew he'd bring it up. I can't look at him. I feel like I'm breaking apart inside.

  "Vanessa." He traces his index finger over my jaw line before bringing it up to settle on my bottom lip. "Do you think I'm the kind of man that would cheat on a woman?"

  It's an unfair question since I don't really know the man. I know that he's an accomplished lawyer judging by what I found online after he essentially dared me to confirm his claim that he's the best probate attorney in the state. He's left little doubt in my mind, or within the now ever present ache deep in my body, that he's a skilled and generous lover. I have no idea, beyond that limited knowledge, of who he is or what he's capable of.

  "She called to her husband." I motion down the empty hallway. "You came around the corner."

  His green eyes float over my face and I wonder, for a brief moment, if he's going to see Connie within my features. "I heard her yelling. Leif was on a call so I came to see what was going on. I don't cheat on women. I would never marry a woman and then be unfaithful to her."

  The sincerity in his words would be immensely reassuring if the entire scope of what I'm feeling was directed towards his supposed infidelity. It's not. I'm still reeling from Connie's reaction to my showing up on our mother's doorstep. There wasn't a single note of joy in her voice. My sister doesn't want me here and right now, I don't want to be here either.

  "I think I should go." I nod towards the door and the solace that I know is waiting for me in the car within Zoe's arms. "Zoe is waiting for me outside."

  He brushes past me to gaze out one of the curtained, rectangular windows that run parallel to the heavy wooden door. "Why did you come with Zoe? Has something happened?"

  "It's my mother, "I half-lie as I twist my hands together. "I came about my mother."

  "Is she okay?" He turns quickly on his heel. "Did something happen to her?"

  Yes, I want to say. She died before I had a chance to tell her that I thought about her every day and wondered what she was like.

  "I shouldn't have come here." I push my hair behind my ear, my eye catching on my watch. "I need to get to work."

  "Vanessa." He doesn't move from his place directly in front of the door. "I need you to tell me why you came here to see me."

  "Why are you here?" I ignore his question in favor of one of my own. I admit I'm relieved that he's not married to my sister, but I'm still confused as to why he's standing in my birth family's home.

  "Here?" He points at the polished marble floor. "Are you asking me why I'm here?"

  He's a lawyer. He's trained to twist words around into a knot of confusion but I'm skilled with people who dance around the truth. I lived with one my entire life.

  "Why aren't you at your office?" I push because I want a clear understanding of his connection to my sister and her family. "It's the middle of the day."

  A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I'm working. The woman you just met, Connie, her mother died recently. I'm handling her estate."

  Of course he is. It's so obvious that I feel foolish for thinking his presence was tied to anything but the legalities of Francesca's death. It's expected that he'd be taking on the task of steering her will through probate given the fact that he's so in demand in high profile cases like this.

  "I'm sorry I bothered you here," I say quietly, wishing I had taken a deep breath and counted to ten before I'd left Zoe's apartment. I hadn't given myself any time to process what I'd read in the newspaper clippings I found in my Rowena's storage locker. I'd just jumped, head and heart first, without a safety net, into that car to come here to see my mother.

  "I got to look at this beautiful face in the middle of my day." He leans down and brushes his soft lips across mine. "Never apologize for that."

  I reach up to touch his face before I stop myself. I need to tell him. I should confess that I didn't end up inside this space because I was desperate to see him.

  "I'm coming to see you late tonight at work." He kisses the tip of my nose before pulling back. "Will you tell me then what's going on with your mother?"

  I nod, not because I have any intention of telling him that my mother took me from Francesca when I was too young to remember. I nod because I know that if I don't offer him the promise of an explanation for why I'm standing in the townhouse of one of his clients, he'll never let me walk out of here.

  "I'm glad you tracked me down here." He grazes his hand over my hair. "It reminds me why I can't stop thinking about you."

  I close my eyes briefly before I pull them open to look directly at his face. This is a man who could mean everything to me. I see it in his eyes. I feel it when he kisses me and touches my body. I should feel my heart volleying with the promise in his words but all I feel is emptiness. The emptiness of knowing that the secret I carry in my heart, and in my hand in the form of the small rope bracelet, is enough to change everything that is happening between us.

  Chapter 3

  "You're actually telling me that Garrett was inside that house?" Zoe motions behind us as the car speeds up the street.

  "He was there," I say softly as I stare down at my lap. "My mother wasn't there."

  I hear the heavy sigh that escapes Zoe's lips as she reaches to cover my hands with one of hers. I haven't been able to look directly at her since I got in the car and blurted out that Francesca had died. I've seen Zoe carry other people's emotions as if they were her own. I know it broke her heart when I told her the news. I know that if I look into her face, I'll see the same sorrow I feel.

  "I'm sorry that she's gone." Her voice cracks slightly. "I can't believe she died just a few weeks ago."
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  It's irony at its cruel best. If I had taken Zoe's advice and forged ahead with my plan to find my birth mother months ago, I may have had the chance to see her before fate took her away. I might have heard the joy in her voice and saw the love in her eyes when she realized that I had built a life for myself. I wanted to know that she was proud of me for becoming a nurse. I needed the validation that only a mother can provide.

  "I can't believe it either," I offer back sullenly. I truly can't. Francesca Tomlin wasn't the type of woman to openly advertise her age. Last night, when Zoe and I had frantically searched online for any fragments of information we could find about her, the pictures all spoke of a youthful woman. If I had to wager a guess based on a trio of images I saw of her from last spring at a benefit dinner, I would have pegged her to be in her late fifties or early sixties. My medical training has taught me that nothing is impossible, but when a person that age dies in their sleep, there are definite questions that need to be answered. I'm just not in a position to ask anyone in the family for any explanations.

  "You said you have a sister?" The delight woven into the question is grossly misplaced. I know that she's trying to find the silver lining to this depressing cloud, but from where I'm sitting, there isn't one.

  "Connie," I say her name with little emotion. "She wasn't happy to see me."

  "Why not?" She pulls softly on my hands. "Did you tell her who you were?"

  I finally look up at her face. I can see the hope that is there, within her expression. She wants this to be like those reunions that you see on daytime television when the host of a show surprises their guest with a long lost relative. They awkwardly embrace with the promise that they'll forge ahead with a relationship. No one ever bothers to ask any of them if having their past come barreling into their present, is actually what they wanted.

  "She saw the bracelet." I motion down to where my hands are still tightly curled around the rope bracelet. "When she saw it, she knew who I was."