Identity
Table of Contents
- Other Bella Books by Nat Burns
- About the Author
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
Copyright © 2012 by Nat Burns
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
First published 2012
Editor: Medora MacDougall
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN 13: 978-1-59493-281-6
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Other Bella Books by Nat Burns
House of Cards
The Quality of Blue
Two Weeks in August
Acknowledgment
Many thanks to editor Medora MacDougall for keeping my facts and words in line. And thanks to Carol, who listened to endless plot ideas and to Chris, who read numerous versions of the manuscript. I also want to thank my Aunt Jean and my sister Valinda—they’ve always been in my corner.
I’d like to dedicate this book to dog lovers everywhere. You are unique and fascinating individuals.
About the Author
Nat Burns’ past work experience has included:
-Ten years as a staff reporter (with three Virginia Press Association Awards)
-Three years in tourism promotion as a media coordinator in Virginia
-Five years in technical support for a software development company
-Five years as the editorial systems coordinator for a Washington DC publishing firm.
-Teaching and supporting in local school systems
-Serving on the boards of Literacy Volunteers of America, Nelson County Education Foundation, Golden Crown Literary Society and SPWAO.
Nat lives in New Mexico, writing and editing full time. Bella Books has released five of her novels and has three more under contract. Nat is a book reviewer and is the music editor for Lesbian News, writing a monthly column called “Notes from Nat”. www.natburns.com.
CHAPTER ONE
Sunlight was playing peek-a-boo along the top of Kerry Ridge when Eliza Hughes decided she’d had just about enough peace and quiet for one day. She peered into the white fiberglass cooler resting next to her and studied the mass of wildly thrashing small-mouthed bass. They eyed her accusingly.
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “I’ll let you loose in a minute.”
She stood slowly, arching her back and stretching. She’d been sitting in this one place for hours, woolgathering as much as fishing, and her muscles had stiffened. It had been a beautiful afternoon though. She loved to sit, still as a statue, and watch as nature moved busily around her. The splendor of a black-speckled, red-eyed loon had captivated her for more than an hour as he complacently munched on baitfish.
She turned her attention back to the cooler of bass. “You guys will never learn, no matter how many times I tell you. It’s a hook in there. Nothing that comes that easy is without a price. Get it?”
She reeled in and wrapped the fishing filament around her pole with an expertise born from years of practice. After wiping wet hands on her bib overalls, she hummed idly to herself as she moved to cross the narrow dirt lane to stow the pole in the white pickup she’d parked on the other side of Dooley Drive.
Without warning a moving mass of woman slammed into her. The pole went flying away and she tumbled backward. She didn’t see where her pole landed, but she ended up sprawled in cold water with fish spewing from the tipped-over cooler.
“Holy crap!” a husky voice cried out, and suddenly Liza was looking into the largest, richest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Oh my gosh, are you all right?”
Liza hated to pull her gaze away but glanced around at the wildly flopping fish and pondered her physical condition. There was a dull ache where she’d slammed into the cooler, but besides being wet through her midsection and legs and smelling a little like a pond, she was okay.
“Yeah, I think so,” she answered. “The fish, though, we gotta get them back into the water.”
Liza carefully extricated herself from the spill and reached to grab a handful of bass. The fish thrashed from her grasp and she lost her balance anew, falling onto the now muddy earth and soiling her entire right side. She glanced up, embarrassed, and saw that the woman was laughing at her. Liza rested there longer than intended as the woman’s appearance washed over her.
Too thin, and fragile as dandelion fluff, the woman captured an onlooker’s attention by the huge number of pastel freckles that dotted her unusual paleness. Her skin had the smooth texture of white alabaster, and the sun slanting against it made her glow with blue radiance. The glow was framed by a thick shock of auburn hair, pulled back into a ponytail but with strands escaping to frolic around her lean face. She smelled like coconuts. The scent filled Liza’s senses, bringing them acutely awake. The woman’s uncontrolled laughter finally penetrated and stirred Liza back to the matter at hand.
“The fish!” she muttered, scrambling to her feet. “Can you help me get them into the pond?”
Some of the fish had already flopped themselves to the bank and into the water with soft splashes. The others were totally beached, gulping air that provided them no oxygen, and they needed human intervention. The redhead set her MP3 player and phone aside and moved to help Liza. She promptly slipped and landed on her bottom in the middle of the growing mud bath of fish and water. Blushing, but laughing easily, the woman leaned to rescue the fish with her hands and toss them into the pond. Liza, on her knees, followed suit, scooping fish into both hands and ladling them toward the water.
The redhead’s laugh was infectious. Soon Liza joined in, laughing even harder when she slipped again and fell backward, the two fish she was holding falling onto her chest and beating at her face with frantic paintbrush tails. The smaller woman plucked the fish from Liza’s chest and struggled to her feet. She staggered to the bank, the fish jumping in her arms like popcorn in a popcorn maker. Knocked off balance by the effort of catching the uncooperative fish, she stepped too close to the edge and within moments had disappeared from Liza’s sight.
“Oh no,” Liza said, scrambling to her feet and carefully making her way to the edge.
The redhead sat in shallow water that reached to her shoulders and to the top of her bent knees. Dark rust-red hair, littered with pondweed, swept across and obscured most of her features. As Liza watched, she spat muddy vegetation from her mouth and uttered a groan of disgust.
The scene was too much for Liza. She laughed so hard her sides ached, the laughter issuing from her in huge guffaws. This lasted for almost a full minute before she could compose herself. With gasping breaths, she knelt and leaned forward, offering her hand.
“Here, let me…help you out,” she gurgled, trying to catch her breath.
She glanced at the smaller woman and was surprised to see that the smiling blue eyes had changed into dark, swirling thunderclouds. The sweetly curved lips had pressed into a thin, stressed line. The woman ignored Liza’s hand, cold blue eyes glaring at Liza amid the miasma of anger that surrounded her.
“Whoa, now,” Liza began. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t...”
The woman stood, sweeping the thick mane of hair from her face. Water raced from her sagging shorts and sweatshirt in small rivers. She wriggled her arms, trying to shake off the heavy water.
“Just move,” she said, stumbling toward the bank.
Liza stood back and felt coldness rush across her. This woman was fierce.
“Look, hon,” she began, spreading her hands helplessly.
“I am not your ‘hon,’” the woman snapped. “My name is Shay. Now move.”
Liza stepped back, daunted by the woman’s meanness. “What I’m trying to tell you is, you can’t get up that bank there without some help. It’s steep and the roots twist all the wrong way. Hymie Clark stayed in there the better part of two days and a night until someone came along to help him out.”
Shay seemed to finally understand Liza’s words. She turned slowly and studied the banks of the large pond. Liza followed her gaze with her own. The pond, called Dooley’s Folly, was steeply concave all the way around the shallows, the water level several feet below an overhanging ledge. The water Shay stood in wasn’t but a few feet deep, but Liza knew that several hundred feet out toward the middle the depth was considerably more. Trying the other side would be fruitless, as the banks there were just as concave.