Taken Identity Page 6

  “Not dignifying that untruth with an answer,” she said, then realized her contradiction. “Oh well, I’ll shut up. Let’s get this spreadsheet started.”

  She was as good as her word. “Right. I’m going to start listing where I was and when. So, then if Sean gives us any info, we can incorporate it. That should help us see if we cross over anywhere.”

  He watched as her fingers flew over the keyboard, compiling and annotating rapidly growing columns.

  “Wow, Jules, do you want a job?”

  She looked up from the screen. “What?”

  “I could do with you in any number of positions.”

  Her lips twitched. Dare she say back at you? Maybe not.

  Luckily, he either hadn’t noticed—or chose not to notice—his double entendre. “If you ever get sick of writing stories, there are a fair number of my executives who would give their right hand to have a PA as efficient as you.”

  “Rubbish. If their PA isn’t efficient, tell them to get one who is. Easy!” She could see her outspokenness had astonished him, as he blinked twice and cleared his throat.

  “You think so?”

  “Well, come on, Gray, if you can’t take the heat and all that. Don’t you employ on a probationary period? Have a get out clause, so if someone’s PA decides his or her boss is going to be the next Mr. or Mrs. PA, you can reassign him or her? If you don’t, well, you deserve all that you get.”

  “Succinctly said. We do, and I will make sure it’s used when I deem necessary. However, some people feel it is a personal slur against them if their handpicked staff does not live up to expectations. I, however, do not. People change, their situations change, attitudes change. Therefore, circumstances will change.”

  “Mmm. Well, mine certainly have. Look at this.” Jules waved a hand in the direction of the computer screen.

  He peered over her shoulder, then seemed to change his mind and pulled a chair up.

  “Show me,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing to do with now,” Jules said. “Just a perfect display of how, as my income grew, so did my love of traveling. I mean, the love had been there, but I began to have the means to indulge.”

  “How did you transcribe all that so quickly?” He looked interested.

  “Indexed diaries. I tell you, I’m anal about them. So see, after my first book was accepted, it was cultural trips. Rome, Venice, Athens. Then farther away, both for culture and sun.”

  “By yourself? Or…?” He raised one eyebrow delicately.

  Grr, Jules wished she could do that with such devastating effect. Instead, she replied in kind. “Or?”

  “Or with a companion?” He growled the question.

  “Oh! Why didn’t you say? Of course, with a companion. Not really much fun alone. To say nothing of the safety aspect. Young woman on her own…not a good idea.”

  “Exactly.”

  She could almost hear his teeth grinding.

  “So, where is he now?” he asked.

  “He?” Jules parried, amused.

  “Your companion.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t the same one all the time, Gray. We’re talking about seven years here. A long time.”

  Jules watched the emotions as they chased across his face. So, a man could change from partner to partner, but not a woman? Double standards? Not in her life. However, she decided to take pity on him and on herself. The last thing she wanted was for Gray to think her promiscuous.

  “The only male I’ve been away with is Alasdair, my brother. Other than that, it’s been Mum or various girlfriends. That is, friends who are girls, not girlfriends as in a couple. Strictly heterosexual, that’s me.”

  “Glad to hear it, all of it.”

  “Good. Well now, you can see I got my new passport here.” She indicated something on the computer. “Before that, I had a photo of me in my teens that was just not…well, me in later years. I think I was going through my Goth period when I had that photo taken. So, I think if my passport was cloned, it’s from about five years ago or less. If it was earlier, then no one would have thought to use me as a double, because the photo was so different. Black hair, kohl around my eyes and a nose ring. Well a fake nose ring, I didn’t dare defy Mum too much. I reckon she was a Domme. She wielded a mean double ruler on my ass many a time. Mind you, I deserved it. I was a brat. And don’t say I still am.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, but you know what you are…”

  She sniggered. “Yeah. Me who knows, you to find out.”

  “I look forward to showing you that you might not know yourself as well as you think you do,” Gray said cryptically. “Now. Back to this passport.”

  Jules thought that might be a good idea. “Okay, so we concentrate on anything that looks unusual, or I remember in the two years before you met her. Yes?”

  Gray nodded and sat next to her as they skimmed through the notations she had made.

  There was silence in the room as they read, apart from the odd clunk and rustle as the coals shifted in the fireplace. Jules felt herself losing concentration. All she wanted to do was to move sideways into Gray’s arms. Unfortunately, after the revelations from earlier in the day, she knew there was now even more reason not to. Instead, she blinked several times to try to relieve the dryness in her eyes and lubricate her lenses. The action brought back a very hazy memory.

  “Hold on a minute.” She scrolled back, to nearer the beginning of the spreadsheet. “Now, where…? No, not then, but somewhere near… Dammit, hold on. Lemme look.”

  She was muttering under her breath, oblivious of Gray. When she looked up, he was watching her with what looked like enjoyment.

  “Aha. Got it. I knew there was something. Look here. See?”

  Gray bent his head to get a better view of the screen and brushed her shoulder. Electricity arced between them and Jules wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks. She rubbed her shoulder and the tingles spread downwards.

  Not. The. Time. Stop it.

  Jules pointed to what she had found.

  Dropped my bloody bag all over the foyer of the hotel because I’d brushed my contact lens out by accident. A very helpful man gave me a hand to pick everything up and even asked for the bag to be lodged behind the reception desk whilst he helped me on a lens hunt. We eventually found it by a chair leg, but without him, I’d have given up much sooner. Thank you, man.

  “I remember that now,” Jules said slowly. “It was windy, and my hair had blown into my eye. While I was pushing it out of my face, someone nudged me, and I dislodged the lens—I wore hard ones then, not the soft dailies I use now, so I couldn’t lose it. I dropped my bag. It was a bit like the one I have with me today, so stuff went everywhere. My passport was in the bag and fell out. I saw the man pick it up, and thought no more of it, but it was a good twenty minutes before I rescued the bag from the receptionist.”

  “Plenty of time,” Gray said. “Was the passport in the bag when you retrieved it?”

  “Yes, but I seem to remember I thought how crumpled it had got, from just being on the floor.”

  Gray considered and looked at the screen again. “Hotel Apollonia. Where, exactly?”

  “Sicily. Oh, bugger, Gray. Sicily. She wasn’t Italian, was she?” A variety of scenarios flash through Jules’ mind. None of them good.

  “No, she wasn’t, and don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

  His words sounded so incongruous for one who usually spoke so correctly.

  They made her laugh and lightened the atmosphere. Exactly what she supposed he had intended.

  “She’s as English as you or I.”

  “Oh, well, that’s fine then—not. Because I’m not English. I’m Scottish,” she retorted, and Gray groaned.

  “All I need, a rabid nationalist. Sorry,” he said in a placating tone. “British, then.”

  That made her smile. “If you have to generalize, much better. We Scots are a wee bit touchy about being called English. Just like you English don’t like
being called French, or Irish, or—”

  “Okay, okay, point taken. I won’t make that mistake again.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Julia was English. Estuary English, I think you would call it, but cleverly educated out most of the time. Elocution. Taught how to speak the Queen’s English. Nevertheless, it slipped occasionally. And she was a wicked mimic, but no, before you ask, definitely not Italian. So get all those horse head in the bed scenarios out of your head. No Mafioso, Dons, Godfathers or whatever in the picture. At least, I don’t think so.” He was studying her diary again, a frown on his face.

  She groaned inwardly. What had she written that he was reading now?

  “Um, Jules? Why, if you were in Sicily, do you say the plane from Heraklion to Glasgow was two hours late leaving? Isn’t Heraklion in Crete?”

  She knew she must have turned the color of the dark red roses on the side table.

  “What?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Show me that.”

  She snatched the book from his hands. “Oh hell. Hotel Apollonia. Not Hotel Appalonia. Not Sicily. Crete. I was in Crete. Same year, different holiday. Lost my lens in Crete. What was I thinking? Crete, Gray. Crete, Crete. Crete.”

  How mortifying to make a mistake like that, especially in front of a man who’d captured her interest. Where was the proverbial hole in the floor to sink into when you needed it?

  “Hey, easy mistake,” he said in a soothing voice. “Calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay. I know you’re right. It’s just… I’m ashamed I don’t remember what happened where, okay? It makes me feel old.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry, but really, it’s fine. And before you ask, no, Julia wasn’t Greek, either. All right?”

  Jules nodded.

  “So,” Gray continued. “That could have given anyone time to get all the gumph needed to apply for another passport. I’ll give Sean a ring and see if it helps. Let me just jot down timings.” Taking a piece of A4 paper from her pile with a glance at her, she presumed, to ask her permission, he made a few notes then took out his mobile phone. He was watching her as, once the phone was answered, he spoke quickly into it. Jules tried to make sense of a conversation she only heard one side of. And that was the side she knew. Eventually, he clicked off and turned to her.

  “You did say you weren’t busy at the moment, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Good, well, I’ll run you home so you can pack your case, then.” He seemed as if he was waiting for her query, and he wasn’t going to be disappointed.

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think? To go to Crete. I’ll just ring Anton, my PA, and get him to make us flight and hotel reservations. Then, we’ll get your stuff, head to London for mine and fly out as soon as we can.”

  “What good will that do? It was years ago. Who is going to remember such a trivial incident as that?” Jules argued. “Anyway, it might not have been then.”

  “True,” Gray agreed. “However, it might have been, and someone somewhere may have some information for us.”

  “I think it’s a screwy idea.” She could see he was far from convinced by her admittedly weak argument.

  “Are you scared?”

  His tone, she felt, was patronizing. She did stare at him then, as if she thought it was he who was screwy. “Scared? What of? I’ve been back since then, more than once.”

  “What?” His voice was loud and astonished. “Why on earth didn’t you say so?”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “When would you like me to have fitted that bit of information in? While you were on the phone? Giving me or Sean orders? Shouting loud enough for the people in the next village to hear? Get real, Gray. Suck it up and realize there’s more than just you affected by all this crap.”

  Her disgust was obvious, and she didn’t care. Outside, someone was whistling Flower of Scotland. At least there weren’t bagpipes as well, or she would scream.

  “I know I said I wasn’t busy, Gray, but that doesn’t mean I sit on my backside all day drinking coffee and eating biscuits. I do have commitments, have a life here. I can’t just shoot off to Crete for however long it takes without some warning. You know, cancel the papers and get someone to feed the cat, everyday things like that.”

  It was obvious Gray was baffled and couldn’t understand why on earth she was being so snippy.

  “You don’t have a cat,” he said in a falsely patient tone that set her teeth on edge. “Papers?” he went on, oblivious of the steam metaphorically coming out of her ears. “Ring up and cancel them, easy.”

  Jules could tell that as far as he was concerned, there was no problem.

  “Why are you staring at me as if I have two heads? Truly, Jules, you have me baffled.” He shook his head slowly as she glared at him. “What? What have I said now, Jules?”

  “You really do not get it, do you?” Perhaps, if she gritted her teeth, she wouldn’t scream at him like a fishwife.

  Funny, she had never realized you could talk through gritted teeth until that moment. She knew she was managing admirably.

  “Obviously not,” he replied stiffly. “As far as I can see, there is nothing to get. It is a simple progression. We cancel your papers, pack, fly, ask questions, hope we get answers and then continue from there.”

  Jules shook her head. “Then all I can say, is I am truly sorry for you, Gray, if your life is so empty you can do things like that.” She hoped the look on her face showed she was sincere in her regret. “However, I, on the other hand, cannot just take up and go. I have commitments, promises I’ve made and a family who would be incredibly distressed if I went abroad without giving them details of my travel plans. Oh, bloody hell,” she finished explosively. “You’ve even got me talking like a stuffed shirt now. What is it with you?”

  Whoever said discretion was the better part of valor was correct. Jules decided that at one time, Gray had listened to that person and followed their advice. She reckoned he had also judged that now was not the time to answer what he probably hoped was a rhetorical question. He stayed silent, just watching. What on earth was going through his mind? She couldn’t even begin to imagine. She knew she had an expressive face, and as her thoughts crossed her mind and were discarded, she couldn’t help but show them. He, however, was the epitome of stone-faced—like a statue, or someone who had an excess of Botox. Or, she admitted with a hysterical giggle, Dom-like.

  “Okay, I admit what you said was true. I don’t have anyone else to think about. Well, I do have a mum of course, who I Skype every week and email or text most days. But I can do that from anywhere. So could you. Mum’s in Sydney with Ralph, her other half, and reckons I’m big enough and ugly enough to take care of myself. They’re doing a world tour before, as mum says, her pins wear out or she pops her clogs. So as long as I have access to phones and the ’net, I can do all that is necessary regarding my business.” He smiled mockingly. “Do you know, I had never considered my life empty. Now, you’ve got me wondering.”

  It seemed like several minutes, but was probably no more than one, before Jules could clear her voice of emotion and speak calmly again. It sounded a sad and empty life to her. She couldn’t imagine not having people concerned about her and close by.

  In all that time, he just stared at her, his face still blank. She wondered what it would take to get him to lose the mask.

  “If I truly thought going to Crete was the answer, Gray, I would go. Once I had made appropriate arrangements regarding family and so on.” She held her hand up in the universal ‘stop’ gesture as he opened his mouth. “Hold on. I haven’t finished. Then I would go. But don’t you think you’re rushing at things here? The first thing we’ve picked up on, and you’re on it like a…well, rat and terrier. As I would have told you, given the chance, I’ve been back to the same hotel twice since then.” She ignored the hiss of breath that escaped from between his pursed lips.

  “The first time I returned, the m
anager recognized me, remembered what had happened and apologized for not having apologized about my crumpled passport sooner. He said he had trodden on it. Now, that may or may not be true, but you can’t just go rushing in and asking all sorts of wild questions about a something and nothing incident that happened five years ago. Apart from that, when I went back last year, he wasn’t there, and I didn’t recognize any of the staff. He’d moved on, and before you ask, I don’t know to where.”

  Gray absorbed her comments. Sighed. “Okay, I overreacted, and I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  ”I usually am.”

  “Ditch the smug look. I’m in no mood for it.”

  Jules curbed the instinct to stick her tongue out. What next? She soon found out.

  “Well, Miss Know-It-All. What do you suggest now?”

  “Cut the sarcasm, Gray. It doesn’t suit you,” Jules replied with equanimity, her anger gone and her good humor restored. Funny how seeing someone else discomforted made you feel better.

  “Well, bugger me,” he said, sarcasm uppermost. “There I was, thinking I did sarcasm well.”

  “Well, you don’t. You make me want to throw something at you. Something hard.”

  “Sorry.”

  She noticed his eyes twinkle. He was really too sexy to be let out.

  “Seriously, though,” he said, “what do you suggest?”

  “Carry on looking,” she replied promptly. “Also, one of us—or Sean—should try to trace where that manager went. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Somewhere at home I’ll have the hotel details, and I’m fairly sure the handout we got when we registered gave a potted history of the main staff. I always knew there was a reason I was a hoarder. So, do we head back to my place or carry on reading?”

  She held her breath as he considered. She didn’t know about handouts, but she’d quite like to be hands on. But on what was taboo.

  “Let’s head to your place. I’ll keep reading while you see if you can find the stuff the hotel gave you. Then I can ring Sean and let him know what we find out.”