The Imposter Marin Montgomery (rom com books to read TXT) 📖

hidden key anymore, just in case someone wants to ransack the house.

What the . . .

Deborah peers up at the security camera, irked she can’t rely on it to provide her any basic details before she decides whether it’s safe to enter. The recorded images take too long to download because of the spotty reception on the farm and typically appear black and grainy on her phone screen. If anything, it’s supposed to be a deterrent, except in this case . . .

As she waffles on what to do, Robert doesn’t answer, so she shakily dials the emergency number. After all that’s happened, she doesn’t want to assume the identity of her uninvited visitor.

Relieved an operator quickly answers, she doesn’t offer a greeting, just a mumbled string of words.

“I don’t understand,” the male voice says. “Who’s at your house?”

“I’m not sure,” Deborah whispers. “Someone’s here on the Sawyer property.”

“Okay, do you know who?”

“I might know them.”

“Is this the Sawyer farm?” There’s an air of exasperation she doesn’t miss.

“You have to believe me.” She grips the phone in her hand. “I’m not lying. There’s a strange vehicle in the drive, some type of foreign car. A Toyota.”

“No one said you were. Can you describe them?”

She grits her teeth. “I didn’t walk inside yet, but if that’s what you want me to do . . .”

“What do you mean?” The voice on the other end fights to stay calm. “An intruder is inside the house?”

“I haven’t gone in.”

“Wait, hold on a sec!” the man says. “Have you walked around the premises?”

“No,” Deborah says.

“Do you have any spare keys the trespasser could’ve located?”

“I don’t think so.” This should be an obvious question, yet she doesn’t know. Frustrated, Deborah paces the length of the porch, tempted to collapse onto the porch swing, until she notices the curtains are open. Deborah never leaves them open. It might entice someone to take a peek inside the house.

Licking her lips nervously, she wonders if the man is back.

“Please stay out of the house. An officer will be dispatched shortly.” The man on the phone sighs. “There was an escape today at the correctional facility.”

“What?” Deborah almost loses her balance. “Another one?” She tries to act reasonable. “But there’s a car in the drive, so clearly the owner didn’t walk here.”

“Well, people do drive getaway cars.” A keyboard clicks in the background as the dispatcher says, “Expect a policeman soon, ma’am.” And then, “I can stay on the line if you’d like.”

“Please. I’d like that.” Comforted by this, Deborah rests the phone against her thigh, not hanging up, per se, but keeping it there to shutter the conversation, at least for the moment.

Sneaking closer, she peers inside the picture window, spotting a lumpy figure sprawled out on the couch, their silhouette covered entirely by a blanket.

Soren, she thinks hopefully.

Disregarding the dispatcher’s advice and unable to contain her nervous anticipation, she gently pushes the olive-green door the rest of the way open. If it is Soren, she doesn’t want to prolong their reunion any longer, and the white car outside gives her a sneaking suspicion it might be.

Deborah’s met with the annoying squeak she thought she’d become accustomed to. Now it sounds like a brand-new irritation.

“Hello?” She tiptoes into the house.

Her eyes play catch-up, taking a moment to adjust to the dimness from the contrast of outside. A wheezing sound from the living room brings Deborah face to face with the heap on the sofa.

Stunned, Deborah peers at the straggler sawing logs under her roof.

Slowly, she approaches the form tangled up in her mother’s cherished blanket, their back to Deborah.

There’s no mistaking the freckled skin and blonde hair, and Deborah hovers over her. Pushing aside the strap of her tank top, Deborah’s fingers trace the skin, where a small tattoo of a monarch butterfly rests.

The phone slips out of her other hand as if dipped in Vaseline, and Deborah barely catches it before it hits the woman’s chest.

CHAPTER 21

Sibley

Even when I hear a loud gasp, I’m rattled but not fully awake.

The squawking continues, and in my slumber, I assume it’s a hummingbird outside on the feeder.

“Oh my God, it is you!” The voice resonates from above me. “You came home!”

Bemused, I open my eyes, expecting to see my comforter from home draped around me and not a crocheted heirloom blanket.

Disarmed, I’m face to face with big brown eyes and a heart-shaped face that matches mine. The only other trait we share besides our face shape is our fair skin. I used to think I shared similarities with Jonathan, but my mother blew that out of the water.

Her eyes go wide when they see me, squinting as if I’m a mirage.

As she moves her hand to her heart, her skin turns an even whiter shade. “Is that really you?”

We peer at each other. My mother’s hair is now shoulder length, chestnut colored, and tinged with gray. My sudden presence has caused a reaction of sorts. I’m still trying to decipher what kind.

I shift awkwardly on the couch, ready to bolt in case it’s not a positive one. We didn’t necessarily have the fairest of goodbyes.

“As I live and breathe.” Her hand reaches out to touch my cheek. “I thought I’d have to die before I saw you again.”

I try not to flinch at her touch or her morbid comment.

“You feel hot, and look at you, using a blanket in this heat!” She scoffs. “You came from sunshine; you should be used to it.”

Her gaunt appearance is worrisome, skin sagging down to the bones. She looks a lot older than her fifty-plus years, her wrinkles more pronounced in the sunlight.

She tilts her head, as if her eyesight is faulty and she can’t rely on what’s in front of her.

“I don’t like surprises, but this is . . . wow!” She settles back against the edge of the couch, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just don’t believe it. Pinch me, please!”

Dumbfounded, I wish I could feign excitement, but the bitterness soaks my lips