Chapter 8

eight

PAUL

The kitchen door banged open and Amy ran to the counter. "Uncle Paul! There's a man in the garden."

I frowned. Earlier in the morning, we'd been talking about garden gnomes. Amy's imagination was probably working overtime.

"What does he look like?" I asked with a smile.

"He's tall, but it's not Santa 'cos he isn't wearing a red suit."

"If he has a pointy hat on his head, it could be one of Santa's elves."

Amy frowned. "He wasn't wearing a hat."

I wiped my hands on a dishtowel. "If it's not Santa and it's not an elf, we'd better see who's in our garden."

On the way out of the kitchen, I looked at the counter. Pots and pans, flour, sugar, and dried fruit covered every available surface. For the last two hours, Amy had been helping me make Christmas cakes. The kitchen was a mess, but it was warm and cozy and smelled divine.

"He looked like Jenny's dad," Amy said seriously .

Jenny was Amy's friend from gymnastics. I'd met Jenny's parents many times. They were great people, but I doubted Jenny's dad would be walking across the garden. Especially in the middle of the day when he should be at work.

By the time we reached the hallway, whoever was outside had rung the doorbell. I turned the knob and opened the door. As soon as I looked into the stranger's blue eyes, the smile on my face disappeared.

There was something about our visitor that took me straight back to the night my sister and parents were killed. Unlike the police officer who'd spoken to me, this man wasn't wearing a uniform. But his black trench coat and somber expression were just as telling.

He held out his hand, as if introducing himself would soften what he had to say. "I'm FBI Special Agent Liam Nelson. Would you mind if I spoke to you for a few minutes?"

"Do you have any identification?"

The man's hand tensed, but he pulled out an ID card.

My eyes narrowed as I compared the unsmiling man in the photo with the unsmiling one in front of me. Amy was right. He did look a little like Jenny's dad. Except this man's shoulders were broader and his hair was a deeper shade of brown. "Come in, Mr. Nelson. I'm Paul and this is Amy."

He nodded and stepped inside.

Nothing about his presence reassured me. Whatever had happened must be serious. "We can talk in the living room."

Amy held my hand as we showed him where to go. "Have a seat."

"Thank you." He undid his coat and sat opposite us. "I realize this is unexpected, but I have something I need to tell you."

I glanced at Amy. "Could you go upstairs and find the picture you drew this morning? Mr. Nelson might like to see it."

Amy glanced shyly at our visitor. "Can I bring my picture of the stars, too?"

I forced a smile. "Of course, you can." After she left the room, I turned to the special agent. "You have about three minutes to tell me why you're here."

"Eight months ago, a man called Alex Quinn joined a team of people working for the Department of Defense. Information about the top-secret project they're working on was leaked to a terrorist organization. At least half the team and their families have received death threats. Two days ago, Alex was shot. He's still in the hospital but expected to make a full recovery."

I was confused. "I'm sorry that happened, but what has his shooting got to do with me?"

"The FBI believes your life could be in danger."

"Because someone I don't know was shot?"

"It's not as straightforward as that. The FBI thinks you're Alex Quinn's brother. So does the terrorist organization who shot him."

I frowned. "You've got the wrong person. I don't know anyone called Alex Quinn."

The special agent handed me the folder he was carrying. "This might explain a few things."

I didn't open the folder. I knew why he was here and I wasn't impressed. "Sarah sent you, didn't she? She keeps telling me she's going to set me up on a blind date, but I thought she was joking. I don't know what she thought would happen, but this isn't funny. "

"I can assure you, Mr. Stevens, this isn't a practical joke. I really do work for the FBI and your life is in danger."

Amy ran into the living room. "Found them," she yelled as she waved two pieces of paper in the air. Without hesitating, she headed straight toward our visitor. "This is the drawing I made last night. It's the stars in the sky. I like stars."

The special agent studied the drawing. "It's very nice."

Amy tilted her head to the side. "Do you like stars?"

"I do. When I was little, my dad used to tell me about the different constellations."

"What's a constatation?"

"A constellation is a group of stars that make a picture in the sky."

I knew what Amy would ask next. "I'll show you some pictures of them this afternoon."

"Okay." Amy showed the special agent her second picture. "This is Santa with his elves. Do you like Christmas?"

If I thought Liam Nelson was grim when I'd first seen him, he was worse now.

Amy must have seen his expression change. "Not even a little bit?"

He took a deep breath. "I like the snow and the smell of gingerbread."

Amy grinned and leaned over the arm of his chair. "Guess what?"

His eyebrows rose. "What?"

"We made gingerbread men yesterday," she whispered. "Do you want one?"

The special agent's gaze connected with mine.

I looked at Amy's excited face, then back at our visitor's permanent frown. "You must have a lot of work to do. "

His gaze didn't waver. "I'm right where I need to be."

"You've got the wrong person."

"Read the report, then tell me what you think."

I frowned. He was stubborn as well as delusional. There was no way I had a brother. My mom and dad would have told me about him. Even if it was a huge secret, someone in my extended family would have mentioned something about another sibling.

"Please, Uncle Paul," Amy begged. "Mr. Nelson would really like our gingerbread men. They're yummy."

I looked at the report. The sooner I read it, the sooner I could tell the special agent that he definitely had the wrong person. "I guess that's okay."

"Come with me," Amy said. "The gingerbread men are in the kitchen. We made Christmas cakes today, too."

I sighed and followed my niece and our visitor. Maybe once he saw the mess, the special agent would leave before he was handed a dishcloth. But instead of running in the opposite direction, he looked as though he would happily stay with us for the rest of the day.

Amy pulled a chair away from the table and grinned. "You can sit here, Mr. Nelson."

"Thanks. It looks as though you've been busy."

Amy rushed across to a cupboard and took a big orange container off a shelf. "Uncle Paul bakes cakes for people. You should have seen the dragon cake he made for Corey. It was amazing." She placed the cookie container on the table. "Would you take off the lid? It gets stuck."

"Sure." He opened the container and stared at the decorated cookies. "You're right. The gingerbread men look delicious."

"Try one," Amy said. "I like the ones with the red noses 'cos they're like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. "

He bit into a crunchy cookie and sighed. "This is exactly how I like gingerbread men."

I sat on the opposite side of the kitchen table. "The recipe came from my grandmother. We used to make all the Christmas cookies for our family."

The special agent stopped chewing. His gaze dropped to the folder.

I looked down at my hands. If what he'd said was correct, the report could change everything I'd been told about my family.

"Okay. I'll read it."

Amy handed me a gingerbread man. "Don't worry. It'll be all right."

I smiled at my niece. Whenever I felt unsure about where our lives were heading, all I had to do was look into her trusting face. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Yes, but you can tell me lots more 'cos I love you, too."

I gave Amy a big hug. Regardless of what was in the folder, we would always have each other.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the report. My gaze skimmed along the story of my life. Each major milestone was documented. Where I'd worked, the people who were important to me. I kept reading then stopped, re-reading the words I'd almost missed.

My heart sank. This couldn't be right.

I turned to the next page and looked at the special agent. "Where did you find these adoption papers?"

"They were in a closed file at the Milwaukee County Clerk's Office. Your biological mother gave you up for adoption as soon as you were born."

"None of this makes sense. There must be someone else with the same name as me. "

"The FBI has investigated every possibility. You're almost certainly Alex Quinn's brother."

I turned to the next page of the report. The names and dates meant nothing to me.

Someone had definitely made a mistake.