Shadow Lover (3 page)

"It's not your place to decide," she said fiercely.

"It isn't yours, either."

Stalemate. She looked across the table at him, making no effort to disguise her dislike. "I assume you have proof," she said.

"Assume anything you want," he said airily.

"Warren and Patsy aren't going to accept you at face value. They're going to want answers, physical proof. There are fingerprints, dental records—"

"Alex
MacDowell
never had his fingerprints taken, even when he was caught with a bag of pot when he was fourteen. His family was too powerful. And there may be dental records, for all I know, but since I never had a filling before I was
twenty-three I
don't think they'll tell you much."

"You've researched this very carefully," she said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"Look at it this way—at the absolute worst I'm making an old woman very happy, and there's more than enough money in this damned family to go around. They won't miss my share."

"Are you admitting you aren't Alex
MacDowell
?" He rose, graceful, as the young Alex would have been, and moved the table. She didn't flinch, didn't back away from him. She merely wrapped her hands tightly around the delicate cup and sat there, looking at him.

He put his hands on the linen tablecloth in front of her, leaning over her. Too close. She found she was holding her breath, unwilling to breathe in the same air he did.

"Why are you afraid of me, Carolyn?"

He was too close. She could see the streaks of gold in his brown hair, the streaks of green in his blue eyes. He was so close she could smell the coffee on his breath, the melted snow, the faint scent of shampoo. She looked at him, and for a moment she thought of Alex, long, long ago.

"I'm not," she said.

"Are you afraid I'll take your place again? That Sally will love me more than you? That you'll be on the outside again, looking in?"

She let go of the cup, knowing that in another moment she would have crushed the fragile bone china in her delicate hands. She sat back, away from him, and she made her mouth curve in the cool, unemotional smile she'd perfected long ago.

"I'm not worried about a thing," she said, "except for Sally's well-being."

"You weren't so saintly when you were a little girl," he said. "I remember you were always whining, always trying to follow me. When did you get in the running to become the next Mother Teresa?"

"Back off." She couldn't help it; the words came out, tight and angry.

It was what he wanted. His smile widened, and she wanted to hit him. She put her hands in her lap, keeping her back straight, as he moved away from her. "They've trained you well, Carolyn," he murmured. "They did what they could never do with me."

"And what's that?"

"They made you one of them. They sucked the life and soul from you." He shook his head. "Too bad I didn't take you with me when I ran."

"You've forgotten some of the details you should have memorized. I was thirteen years old at the time."

"So you were," he said softly. "That didn't mean you didn't know how to kiss."

She could feel the color drain from her face. There was no way he could know. No way
anyone could
know. "What … what are you talking about?"

He headed for the arched doorway. "I think I'll check on my mother. I hadn't realized how much I missed her."

"You didn't answer my question." She rose, standing at the table, holding on to the surface so he wouldn't see she was trembling.

"No, I didn't." He smiled sweetly. "Better call Warren and Patsy and have them get up here. Maybe they'll do a better job of unmasking the imposter."

And he was gone before she could say another word.

Chapter 2

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^
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"
W
hat the hell is going on here?" Warren
MacDowell
stormed into the small, perfectly decorated library and proceeded to loom over Carolyn.

She closed the leather-covered checkbook with deceptive calm.
Warren
's stuffy, bombastic temperament always had the ability to shake her composure, but she'd learned to disguise it years ago.
Warren
was the kind of man who thrived on other people's weaknesses, and Carolyn had enough sense not to exhibit hers any more than necessary.

"I tried to call you," she said, looking up at him. "But you'd already left."

"Sally called me in the middle of the goddamned night," he snapped, even more bad-tempered than usual, "with some ridiculous story about Alexander returning from the dead. Where is he?"

"I haven't seen him since this morning. I've been working in here."

"He would have to pick a blizzard to come home. It took me forever to drive up here. So what do you think?"

Warren
was not a man who usually asked for anyone's opinion, particularly hers. "What do I think about what?"

"Don't be obtuse! What do you think about the prodigal son? Is it really him?"

"Who else could it be?" she said carefully. "A con man. We all assumed Alex was dead, had been for years. There's a lot of money involved—it would be worth someone's while to try and pull this off. Have you asked him any questions? Asked for proof?"

"I didn't think it was my place. Aunt Sally believes him, and she's happier than she's been in years. I'm not about to tell her that he's a phony."

"But you think he is,"
Warren
said shrewdly.

Carolyn looked up at him.
Warren
was a good-looking man in his late sixties, but then, all the
MacDowells
had been blessed with abundant physical charm as well as money. A perennial bachelor, he cared more about his appearance and his possessions than anything else, and his gray suit was undoubtedly Armani. He was a little too old for it, but he still looked elegant and untouchable.

He had never been one to encourage intimacy and she was in no mood to confide her doubts. "I don't know," she said. Lying.

Warren
shook his head. "I'll have to see the boy. Ask him a few pointed questions—"

"He's not a boy anymore."

Warren
shrugged his dapper, narrow shoulders. "Who is? Where will I find the black sheep?"

"Probably by Sally's beside. That's where he was headed after breakfast."

"How cozy. Sally's a smart woman. She'll see through an imposter easily enough. It shouldn't take much to uncover the truth."

"No," Carolyn said, "it shouldn't." But for some reason she didn't think it was going to be that simple.

"Well?"
Warren
said, growing impatient. "Aren't you coming with me?"

The day was getting stranger and stranger.
Warren
usually treated her as a cross between a poor relation and an upper servant, which, in fact, described her position in the
MacDowell
family fairly well. He'd never sought her opinion or her company in the
past,
he'd simply accepted her presence as he always had.

She rose. "If you want me to."

"You knew Alex as well as anyone. You grew up with him, in a manner of speaking. I want to see if you can put a dent in his story."

It wasn't an enticing thought. The man with Aunt Sally was a liar and a fraud, but Carolyn was in no particular mood to be the messenger of bad tidings. It was up to someone else to unmask him, not her. The most important thing was to protect Aunt Sally now that her failing health made her unable to protect herself. The
truth, and the money, were
only secondary issues.

But
Warren
was standing by the door, practically fuming with impatience, and now wasn't the time to finally stand up to him. That time was coming, with Aunt Sally's impending death. But it wasn't here yet.

Sally's room was bathed in gentle shadows. This time Carolyn didn't jump to any macabre conclusions as she saw her dozing peacefully in the hospital bed that had been moved in several months ago. This time she didn't miss the figure stretched out on the green velvet Victorian fainting couch, reading peacefully.

Warren
cleared his throat with awesome majesty, and Aunt Sally jerked into wakefulness. The man pretending to be Alex didn't
move,
simply raised his head to look at them with sublime indifference.

"
Warren
." If Aunt Sally sounded more resigned than enthusiastic, it was only to be expected. She had tolerant affection for her younger brother, but not much more. "Your nephew has returned."

"So it seems,"
Warren
said in a deliberately lukewarm voice. But then, he was never a man to show enthusiasm. "Welcome back, Alex."

"Uncle Warren." Was there a trace of malicious humor in his eyes as he looked at the older man? Of course, the real Alex had always viewed his stuffy uncle with amused disdain.

"Why don't we go into the living room so we don't disturb Sally? As you can imagine, there are a great many questions I want answered—"
Warren
said smoothly.

"No!" Aunt Sally's voice was surprisingly strong.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sally,"
Warren
protested. "I just want to ask the boy a few questions. Arrange for a few medical tests. Just a formality, of course, but it's only reasonable to be cautious. After all, it's been eighteen years, and while I will admit there's a surface resemblance, we should have some form of proof. Papers, answers—"

"No," Sally said again, more calmly. "I won't have you cross-examining him. Do you think I don't know my own son? It could have been fifty years, and I'd still recognize him, with my heart if not with my eyes."

"Your eyes aren't any good,"
Warren
interrupted tactlessly. "And I doubt your lawyers are going to find this acceptable without some form of proof."

"Fuck the lawyers," Alex said in a calm voice.

After a shocked moment, Sally laughed. "Yes,
Warren
," she said, a little short of breath. "You heard what my son said. Fuck the lawyers."

"Sally!"
Warren
protested, clearly shocked, but Sally ignored him.

"Come over here, Carolyn," she commanded with her usual high-handed charm. "I haven't seen much of you today."

"I thought you might want some time alone with Alex." She didn't even hesitate—she was proud of herself—that she could swallow the lie so easily.

Her reward was Aunt Sally's bright smile. "We'll have dinner tonight, the four of us. I'm feeling quite wonderfully strong right now, ready to take on the world. Why don't you take Alex to his room and make sure he gets settled? He hasn't had more than a moment to himself since he arrived last night."

She'd already anticipated it, but she stalled. "What room shall I put him in?"

"Don't be silly, Carolyn. His old room. It's been waiting for him all these years." She turned her head to the imposter. "I had it redecorated when the house was enlarged, but I think you'll still like it. If you want anything changed, just let Carolyn
know
and she'll see to it."

She could feel his eyes on her, an unpleasant sensation. "What does Carolyn do nowadays? Besides see to any changes?" His mother wouldn't hear the faint mockery in his voice. Carolyn couldn't miss it. And couldn't stop from bristling.

"She takes good care of me," Sally said. "She's been wonderful, Alex. She insisted on quitting her job to take care of me when the cancer came back this time. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter."

His eyelids drooped over his mesmerizing eyes. "I can imagine," he said. She knew what he was thinking, even without him saying anything. He thought she'd come back for the money. Left her apartment in
Boston
, her career as a school social worker and come back to nurse a dying old lady during her final days. A very rich, dying old lady.

After all, that was why he'd appeared, wasn't it? And it was a waste of time to insist she had nothing to gain but some sort of peace of mind.

"You're very noble," he said. And for some reason Carolyn suddenly remembered the real Alex, his voice laden with sexual innuendo.

There was nothing sexual going on here, she reminded herself belatedly. Just a con man, out to bilk an old lady out of her fortune, and the only thing that stood between them was her loving family. But the
MacDowells
had never seemed particularly loving, and even now
Warren
was surveying the interloper with surprising acceptance.

"Go along, then, and get settled,"
Warren
said expansively. "We'll talk later. I'm sure Carolyn will take most excellent care of you." He hesitated. "Good to see you back, my boy."

Sally reached up her gnarled hand and patted
Warren
's approvingly.

"It's good to be back," Alexander
MacDowell
said. And Carolyn must have imagined the faint undertone of mockery in his low, husky voice.