A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed him the picture of the ID Anita had sent him. “You recognize this?”

Frank went pale. “I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“I don’t think so,” Liam said with a courage he wouldn’t have expected. But he was scared and tired and, dammit, he needed some answers. “I’ll bet in that room back there”—Liam pointed at the only closed door he saw—“there’s all kinds of things that would interest the police, isn’t there? Maybe a blue screen? A computer? Whatever it is you need to make a fake ID these days. If they’re not there, they’re somewhere around here, aren’t they?”

Frank instinctively looked over his shoulder at the door, which confirmed to Liam he was correct. “Look, I’m just trying to make a living. You think glamour shots and prom pictures are enough to pay the bills around here?”

“I just need some answers.”

Frank considered this, held up a finger. Wait a second, it said. He walked around the counter, locked the front door, and turned the open sign to closed. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did Elise have you make this ID?”

“I didn’t ask. Sometimes they tell me. Like they need to justify it or something. Usually that’s the kids, though. The ones looking to buy booze or get into a club. But she and that guy she was with, they were pretty quiet when they came in here.” Frank squinted and wagged a finger at Liam. “I swear you look familiar. Why is that?”

“What guy?”

“Just some guy. No one special.” There was a pause. Frank seemed to be thinking about something. Then he blurted out, “That’s it! That’s where I know you from. That guy. You must know him.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You have to. He came in here, had a driver’s license and a passport made for you. I’m surprised I didn’t pick you out right away. It was an unusual request. Normally I take the photos, myself. But he came in with a picture of you and insisted I use it. You must know about it, right? You’ve gotta know what I’m talking about.”

There was only one person that could have been. “Jacob.” Liam felt his world shift in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It meant Elise and Jacob had known each other long before Liam had met her at Ava’s. There was no way they were both there by chance. But why were they there? Liam had thought Jacob was helping him because of Ava. Was he actually helping him because of Elise? No, that wasn’t it. But he couldn’t put his finger on what the truth was either. Not right now. Besides, there wasn’t any time to think about it anyway because Frank had already started to respond.

“No, that’s not his name.”

“It has to be,” Liam insisted.

“I don’t think so.”

Liam pulled the fake ID Jacob had given him out of his wallet and handed it over. “This is the ID you’re talking about, right?”

“That’s it!” Frank said, pointing at the ceiling as if he were having a eureka moment. “Richard Hawthorne. Rick. That’s what was so unusual. Well, aside from the fact that he provided the picture.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That,” Frank said, pointing to the ID. “He wanted the ID in his name. But hey, like I said—I don’t ask questions.”

Liam sat on a bench outside Clix. It was cold, but he felt overwhelmed and needed a second to think. He pulled the army jacket tight, then took out his TracFone and searched the web for Richard Hawthorne. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, he just wanted to see what he would find.

The search results were ordinary at first. Google presented a list that included Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. There were also listings that mentioned a failed state senate race, a hot dog eating contest, and an obituary. The remaining results on the first page referenced a Mike Hawthorne, The Hawthorne Foundation, and a site called MyLife that promised all sorts of background information on Richard.

Liam clicked on Facebook first, perhaps simply because it was at the top of the list. Suddenly, the results no longer looked so ordinary. Richard Hawthorne had north of a hundred and fifty friends. He’d reposted memes and jokes; nothing personal. His profile picture was Liam’s—the same one, in fact, Liam now had on his fake ID.

Feeling more overwhelmed now than when he sat on the bench, Liam clicked on the Twitter and Instagram accounts, and discovered a disturbing trend. All three accounts in Richard’s name had Liam’s picture.

But why? There was no obvious answer. The only way Liam could find out would be to ask Rick.

Rick—who had known Elise, who’d bought fake IDs with her, who’d sold him an ID after he was charged with Elise’s murder. . . . Had Rick killed her? Was he trying to frame Liam? The fake ID in Richard’s name didn’t fit that story. But Rick knew something. He had to. Liam had to talk to him.

Getting in touch with Rick, though, was another matter. Liam couldn’t just call him up. If Rick was interested in telling him the truth, he’d have done it already. No, this had to be handled in person. How was Liam going to find him?

He tried the MyLife site, only to be presented with a lengthy list of Richard Hawthornes, identified by age, city, and family members. Refusing to be deterred, he began scrolling through the results. While Liam felt comfortable ruling out anyone over forty, he found several that could be the right age. Two were even from the Chicago suburbs. Then he wondered whether the information on the site was current or even accurate. He didn’t have time to go tracking down one Richard after another, hoping he’d eventually find the one he was looking for.

Fortunately, he realized that wasn’t his only option.

Alice Parker

As David left, Alice wished him luck. Catherine closed the door. She looked