I'll Find You by Nancy Bush Read Free Book Online Page B

did.”
    Callie narrowed her gaze at him. “You know I’m not this Teresa you’re looking for.”
    “Then you’re her twin.”
    “Fine,” she snapped.
    He made a sharp movement with his arm, closed her wallet, and dropped it back into her carryall. “I could almost believe you if I didn’t know better,” he said. “That lost and miserable act is hard to resist.”
    “I think you’re the kind of person who can’t admit they’re wrong.”
    He inclined his head. “Probably. But you have the bracelet.”
    “I’m not Teresa.”
    “Where’s your son?” he demanded.
    Her gut twisted. Carefully, lest emotion got the better of her, she said, “The only son I ever had is dead.”
    His head jerked up and he gave her a sharp look. “Dead?”
    “Don’t worry. He’s not the boy you’re looking for.” Her voice was brittle. “He was my son. He has nothing to do with you and this Teresa person. He only mattered to me.” She swallowed hard, sensing she could break down if she wasn’t careful.
    He was watching her with a mixture of fascination and horror, as if he couldn’t turn away.
    “I don’t know you,” she insisted. “I don’t know the boy you’re looking for.”
    “Why did you come here with me, then?”
    “Did I have a choice?” She was outraged. “What are you talking about?”
    “You haven’t tried to call the police. You didn’t want me to go to your place, and you took me all the way to this particular hotel.”
    “Don’t put this on me,” Callie said, slightly alarmed.
    “You’ve got some agenda going. If you’re not Teresa, you’re involved at some level, so start telling the truth.”
    “I am telling you the truth! I’m Callie Cantrell.”
    “Okay.”
    Callie stopped short. “Okay?”
    “If you’re Callie Cantrell, tell me about her. Convince me you’re not the woman who married my brother and had a child with him. You’re not the woman who took off after Stephen’s death, with the bracelet, maybe to avoid questions about his death.”
    “What?”
    “You’re not Teresa DuPres Laughlin, even though you look just like her.”
    Callie suddenly understood West Laughlin’s smoldering anger. Shaken, she said, “I’m not her. I was married to Jonathan Cantrell. We had a son. Sean. Jonathan and Sean both died in a car accident on Mulholland almost exactly a year ago. I have a series of scars down my right side from the same accident that killed them. I’ve been told I was lucky I survived, but I don’t feel lucky. I feel miserable. And lost. And sometimes—most times—I wish I’d died with them.” They stared at each other. She could tell her words got to him and added, “I’m sorry about your brother, but I don’t know Teresa.”
    “I just want to find Stephen’s son. I want to make sure he’s safe.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “What?” He was taken aback.
    “I think you’re the one with the agenda.”
    He put his face within inches of hers. “I cared about my brother, and I care about his son.”
    His voice had lowered to a whisper, but that took nothing away from its intensity. On the contrary, every syllable seemed to hammer into her brain. Callie held his gaze with an effort. The pain in her jaw from the fall had created an overall headache and she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked suddenly.
    “Nothing.”
    “Don’t give me that. You look terrible.”
    Was that a news bulletin? Of course she looked terrible. He’d frightened her— terrorized her—chased after her and scared her. How could she look any other way?
    “Your jaw?” he asked, frowning.
    “Yes, my jaw. My whole head hurts. Everything hurts.” When West made an impatient gesture, she embellished, “It’s killing me,” then lifted a hand to cup her chin, wincing a little.
    “It’s your own fault,” he said tersely.
    “It’s your fault. You tackled me and I went facedown.”
    “You ran away. I never meant to hurt