29
His stomach already clenched with his deceit, Ethan swore it tightened more as Boone slid into the booth across the table from him in the diner and placed a manila envelope on the tabletop. He stared at it as if it were radioactive. Its contents could spell disaster for his relationship with Zoë and, while still unclear if he was in an actual relationship, he didn’t want it to end. He never should have asked Boone to do this.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” his friend questioned.
He shook his head. Nope, no way. He didn’t want to see what was inside. Before Boone could speak again, Cookie made an appearance, carrying the carafe that seemed omnipresent in her hand, causing Ethan to groan inwardly. He liked her but was in no mood for the friendly chitchat he knew she’d unleash on Boone. She’d tried to engage Ethan in a conversation when he’d arrived earlier and he saw she suspected something was amiss with him. The last thing he needed was her prying, even if it was born of concern.
“Well, hello stranger,” Cookie chirped out and then smiled at Boone. “I haven’t seen you in here for a while.”
“I’ve been working, but I’m in town for a bit now.” His tone was friendly enough and Ethan discerned that only someone who knew Boone as well as he did could detect the slight urgency in it. Boone, too, wasn’t eager to indulge in conversation with Cookie but would be polite. Like Ethan, he wouldn’t want to alert her to the tension at the table. It was palpable, seeming to engulf Ethan to such a degree he found it difficult to take full breaths. He’d rather be anywhere else than where he found himself, and again cursed his decision to enlist Boone’s help.
“Well, it’s always nice to see you. Are you ready to order?”
Boone glanced at Ethan and then, after delivering a broad smile to Cookie, shook his head. “Not quite yet. I’ll have a coffee though.” Ethan could see how Boone’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. The envelope’s contents were damning, he was now sure of it, and his heart began to hammer wildly.
“Of course,” she said as she turned his cup over and filled it, “but you boys drink too much coffee.”
“It maintains this face,” Boone quipped, with a grin.
Cookie laughed. “Well, there’s your coffee then. We wouldn’t want that face to change.” She winked good-naturedly and then moved away.
Ethan stared at the envelope, feeling Boone’s eyes on him. Trying to calm his racing heart, he asked the question he didn’t want to voice. “How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
He jerked his head up. “What?”
“It’s nothing, absolutely nothing.”
“No criminal record?”
“Nope.”
With great relief, he drew in a deep breath, feeling as if he could breathe for the first time in days. “What about her finances? Ex-husband?”
“There is no ex-husband.”
“What do you mean?”
Boone picked up the envelope. “It looks a little thin, right?” He nodded, and Boone slid a few pages out and then laid them on the tabletop before him. As his brow creased at the lack of paper before him, Boone continued. “Those are copies of her birth certificate, driver’s license, health card, and passport. All perfectly acceptable, except that’s where it ends. She’s never had a car accident, ticket, or fine. She’s never travelled on the passport, and she’s never been hospitalized. In fact, according to Health Canada records, she’s never been seen by a doctor. Ever.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Not for a synthetic identity.”
Ethan’s heart dropped. Synthetic identities were always created for unlawful purposes.
“These pieces are good, too, really good,” Boone went on. “It was only the lack of action on them that alerted me to them not being genuine forms of identity.” He slipped the pages back into the envelope and then leaned forward a bit. “There’s more. I ran facial-recognition using this ID and found another identity for her, same pieces, under the name Kathryn Matthews. She worked, had an apartment, car, cellphone, the works, under that name but it was synthetic too. There’s work records for her up to a few weeks ago, then nothing. It’s as if Kathryn Matthews disappeared, but there’s no missing person report on her.”
Boone glanced around the diner before continuing. “Then, she popped up in Edmonton, as Zoë Pennell, and bought her truck and cellphone. She paid cash for both, using an address in Edmonton she’s never lived at.” He shrugged. “Toronto police aren’t looking for Kathryn Matthews so it doesn’t seem like she’s involved in anything illegal but, shit, who the hell gets a synthetic identity in order to work? Especially as a cook? I even ran her picture to see if she’s a wanted illegal alien and nothing came back. Nothing on Interpol either. She doesn’t truly exist under either of those names. God knows what her actual identity is.”
Cookie approached again, and Ethan squashed his desire to sigh deeply at her appearance. She looked between him and Boone oddly, as if she could tell something was wrong. Perhaps she picked up on his mood, he wouldn’t be surprised. He probably looked at devastated as he felt. Everything seemed surreal at the moment and, as if in slow motion, Cookie turned her attention to Boone.
“Ready to order now?”
“Sure, I’ll have a banquet burger with all the fixings, fries, and onion rings.”
She smiled. “It’s always the same. I probably don’t even have to ask you anymore, do I?”
“Probably not,” he agreed.
“How about you, hon?” she asked as she turned to Ethan. “What can I get you?”
“The same,” he managed to get out, certain he wouldn’t be able to stomach it, but knowing she’d question him if he didn’t order.
“You got it. Coming right up,” she chirped and then briskly walked away.
Boone’s brow furrowed. “You know, she always calls you ‘hon’, but never calls me that.” When he received nothing but a stare in return, he leaned forward again, dropping his voice. “Look, the only good news I can offer is that, for whatever reason she obtained this identity, it doesn’t appear to be criminal.”
“Then why get it?”
When Boone didn’t answer, Ethan sighed. “Could she get this on the street?” At the cock of Boone’s head, he elaborated. “If, say, she was running from someone, could she score those pieces of ID on the street?”
“Pieces this good? I doubt it. The driver’s license and the health card, sure, asking the right people, yeah, she could find those. The RCMP has investigated tons of cases of synthetic driver’s licenses and health cards. The passport though, no, not one this good.” He spread his hands on the tabletop. “We could do this, Witness Protection, but I checked and she’s not in the system.”
His mind spinning with the information he’d received, Ethan looked out the window but a low curse from Boone caused him to look back sharply. “I thought you were just banging her, but the look on your face ... you’re falling for her.” He made it sound like an accusation. “How deep in are you?”
“Deep,” he admitted.
Boone swore again. “What’s going on with you? This isn’t like you at all.” Agreeing with that, Ethan had no explanation for why he’d lost a hold on his emotions when it came to Zoë. Unable to offer a reason, he merely stared at Boone. “Shit, well, she has to go. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it can’t be good.”
“She’s not a criminal. She’s running from something, or someone.”
“Okay, let’s say she’s running. She knows you used to be a cop, she knows Myles, and she knows I work for Witness Protection. Why hasn’t she asked for help?”
“She’s scared.”
“Bullshit.” At the sharp look Ethan unleashed, Boone shrugged. “I’m not buying that. She’s done a number on you, that’s apparent, and you have to send her on her way.”
In an attempt to get Boone to understand, Ethan leaned forward. “I agree all of this is strange and yeah, I want answers too, but I’m telling you that you don’t understand the whole situation. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known. She’s so damn strong. Fearless.” Boone didn’t look convinced and Ethan sighed. “She is fearless, but I confronted her a while back when her story didn’t add up to me and, I’m telling you, she was scared. Whatever she’s running from scares the hell outta her.”
“Then why doesn’t she ask for help?”
“I just told you she’s scared!”
He blurted it out louder than he intended to, and Boone sat up rigidly, his expression condemning. Knowing his friend still wasn’t convinced, Ethan tried to get through to him again.
“Look, you don’t know her. I do. She’s scared.”
As Boone’s look softened, his posture relaxed. “Then she needs our help. Maybe I should talk to her. Or Myles even.”
“No. If you do, you’ll spook her, and she’ll run. I know it.”
“It might be for the best.”
Glaring harshly, he could hardly believe Boone had voiced such a thing. “How can you say that? She needs help.”
“And how long are you going to let this go on if she doesn’t ask for help?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if whatever she’s running from catches up with her? What then? What if it endangers your men? Your ranch?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it, but I won’t turn her away if she needs a place to hide. I can’t.”
Boone looked pissed with his answer, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t push Zoë, end of discussion. Turning his head, he looked out the window again. Lunchtime had plenty of people out and about and, as his eyes took in several folks he knew, he wondered how much he truly knew about Zoë.