Undercover Sheriff

Chapter Two

Rachel blinked away all the suspicions and paranoia and focused on Zane, telling herself again not to be intimidated by this abrasive version of her town’s sheriff. “I was going to check out that postcard.”

He held it up. “The one that has your name on it? Logically, it seems to point to you, so interviewing you would be the next step, except you claim that you had nothing to do with Alex’s disappearance. Therefore, this card is a dead end, so why bother taking it?”

Rachel felt even more heat flood into her face. Before she could answer, he continued, “I’ve been watching you, Miss Smith. I believe that as soon as you found that postcard, you realized that you might be implicated in my brother’s disappearance, which prompted you to try to dispose of it. In fact, I believe that was your sole reason for coming here. To remove any incriminating evidence because you’re involved somehow.”

“That’s not true!” Rachel swallowed, realizing too late that her outburst wasn’t such a good idea. “You should be asking the deputy why this room hasn’t been searched.”

“I intend to, and since we have already established that Mrs. Shrankhof trusts you—”

Rachel tried her best to look knowing. “She’s an excellent judge of character.”

“I disagree. You’re a thief. You stole this card. Since you clearly have Alex’s landlady in your back pocket, we will have to consider her a biased witness and disregard any statement she might make in your defense.” Zane took a step toward her as his gaze flicked up and down her frame.

Rachel tipped her head up, something she rarely had to do with men, thanks to her height. She studied Zane. She didn’t remember seeing the tiny creases between Alex’s eyebrows, but Zane had them. He also seemed a whole lot more canny than his easygoing twin. How did he know so much about biased witnesses, statements and such? Was he also in law enforcement?

“You have all but admitted that you have another motive rather than the noble one of finding three people,” Zane asked.

Rachel pulled herself together. “You know this because...”

“You call Alex by his first name.”

Normally, Rachel wouldn’t be so improper as to call the sheriff by his first name, but Alex had insisted on Christian names once he’d learned of her ministry, saying he valued her work. She’d appreciated the friendly personality, but had kept her encounters with him as brief and as few as possible, not wanting the women she helped to believe there was more between the sheriff and her than there really was.

Alex had understood that. He was easy to get along with, candid even, unlike this brother, who currently looked travel worn and testy, as suspicious as that postcard.

Despite knowing why she kept her distance, Alex had been quite companionable, often greeting her in the street. This twin appeared to be the exact opposite. Rachel folded her arms. “What of calling Alex by his Christian name? We had exchanged them.”

“Really? He’s not in your class.”

Rachel bristled but refused to answer. Although her mother had always tried to instill in her the importance of staying within one’s class, Rachel knew, even years ago when the Lord had changed her young life, that all were equal at heart. Wasn’t that a founding principle that made the United States? She remembered the celebration when Colorado had joined the union. Hadn’t the mayor commented on that? It didn’t matter. She knew enough not to argue with this man. Not today, anyway.

“As for another motive, it’s nearly noon,” Zane commented abruptly, “and judging by the freshness of the rouge on your cheeks and the powder under your eyes, I would say that you have only just completed your toilet.”

“How does that indicate another motive?”

The corners of Zane’s mouth rose slightly. “I can tell that you retired very late last night. What exactly were you doing until all hours? Whatever it was, I wonder if it’s making you feel guilty,” he speculated.

“Not in the least.” She threw back her shoulders and tugged on the sleeves of her jacket. “The hours I keep are none of your concern.”

He was being ridiculous, she told herself. Staying out late did not cause her to feel guilty. Was he goading her?

“And how do you explain these?” He lifted her left hand and indicated her rough knuckles before turning it over to expose the dry, hard calluses. “Are you a washerwoman by night?”

She yanked back her hand, regretting that she’d removed her gloves upon entering this room. “That’s none of your business.”

“I would say it is. You are full of contradictions, which imply that you’re hiding something. Something that I believe is making you feel guilty. I saw it on your face the moment I walked in here.”

Rachel felt her mouth thin. “Very observant of you.”

“Alex isn’t the only lawman in the family.”

She narrowed her gaze, knowing that if he was like most lawmen, he would not give up until she admitted that he was correct. They stared each other down as she fought the urge to blink. She fought every fiber in her body that screamed to tell Zane everything, to pour out all the guilt that ate at her.

That would be a very bad idea. Just because he looked like his twin didn’t mean he was as understanding as Alex.

His stare continued.

Finally, needing to say something, anything to end the accusatory silence, she blurted out, “Fine, then. I didn’t want anyone to think I had something to do with Alex’s disappearance. I came here for any clue to help find him, and hopefully Rosa and Daniel, but as soon as I saw this card, I was afraid that if Deputy Wilson discovered it, he would focus on me, to the exclusion of all other suspects. I want him to find Rosa and Daniel because their disappearance must be connected to Alex’s. But I’m not responsible for what has happened to any of them!”

Even as she blurted out her words, she knew Zane didn’t believe her. As his stare continued, a shiver ran through her.

* * *

Not for a minute did Zane believe Rachel’s words. He glanced down at the postcard in his hand. A painted picture of Castle Rock? Why would his brother have a postcard from another town? And why waste a good postcard by writing only Rachel Smith’s name on it?

In fact, when had he written Rachel’s name on it? Before or after Rosa’s disappearance?

There was also another on that list of hard questions. How was it that he could so easily see the lies on Rachel Smith’s face, yet he had not seen how his own staff back in the little town of Canaan had conspired against him?

It was hard to believe Rachel could deceive anyone with a face that open and expressive. It was clear the woman was nervous, an emotion so tangible he could nearly taste it in the air. But did that mean she was involved in his brother’s disappearance? Could she be telling the truth about that?

Maybe her nervousness was simply because he’d startled her. And just being an identical twin to a missing man might unnerve another person. Enough to make them look guilty?

Perhaps, but that didn’t explain the postcard. Neither he nor Alex had anyone to send postcards to, aside from each other. They had lost their grandparents to old age a few years back, and parents to a flu outbreak last winter. At their parents’ shared funeral, Zane and Alex had decided never to lose contact with each other. That was how Zane knew exactly where to go as soon as he’d stepped off the train. In his first letter from Proud Bend, Alex had given him detailed directions to his home and office. Zane would have preferred to go straight to the sheriff’s office for an update, but since this room was on the way, he’d stopped here first, just in case his brother had returned.

It was a good thing he’d chosen this detour. Now it looked like he might be taking Miss Rachel Smith in for questioning. He latched on to her elbow. Firmly.

She immediately stiffened. “Let me go! What’s the matter with you?”

Zane saw shock flare in Rachel’s eyes, but he had no intention of releasing her. Just because a woman was indignant, didn’t mean she wouldn’t knock him over and bolt the second he released her. This Miss Rachel Smith looked healthy enough to get a good head start on him while he was scrambling to stand. She was taller than most women and if she hiked up that fashionable skirt of hers, she could race out of this room at a fairly good clip.

“We’re going to the sheriff’s office,” Zane ground out. “I want to see if the deputy has heard from my brother.”

Rachel dug in her heels. “You don’t need to handle me like a wayward child!”

“I think I do.” His grip wasn’t hard, but firm enough to ensure her compliance. “I want to question you in a professional manner and that means at the sheriff’s office.”

“You have no authority here.”

He was about to reply when he was cut off by a deep, booming voice. “What’s going on here?”

Zane turned. Standing in the open doorway was a large, well-dressed man, middle-aged, with extra weight around the middle. An even older woman, wearing a worn cotton skirt and blouse, with a flour-dusted apron wrapped around her wide girth and a heavy shawl draped over her shoulders, stepped out from behind him. Some of her gray, wispy curls escaped her white maid’s cap. Her eyes were wide, taking in every action.

“Who are you?” Zane asked, hearing impatience pepper his tone. He was here to find his brother, that’s all, not to confront every townsperson.

The older man drilled him with his own harsh glare. “I believe I should ask that question.”

“Don’t you recognize our new sheriff?” the older woman answered, peering up at the man. “You wanted me to tell you when he got back. As soon as I saw him pass my kitchen window, I sent my grandson.” She drilled Zane with a blatantly nosy stare. “He growed himself a beard, he did.”

The man shoved the old woman behind him and puffed up further. “Don’t be foolish, Mrs. Shrankhof. I spoke to Sheriff Robinson only eight days ago. He couldn’t have grown that thick a beard so quickly.”

Zane lit upon the man’s confession. According to the telegram, Alex had disappeared a week ago today. Could this man have been the last person to see him before he went missing?

“But he did, Mayor Wilson!” She pointed at Zane. “Look at him.”

Zane felt his jaw tighten. Mayor Wilson? The deputy who’d telegraphed him had the same last name. Were they related? Probably. True, it was a common name, but this was a small town. People hiring relatives and cronies into positions of power happened very frequently in these small, isolated towns. This man’s young relative didn’t sound experienced enough to be voted in as sheriff, but hiring him as deputy was probably as easy as pie.

“Go back to your kitchen,” the mayor growled to Mrs. Shrankhof. “I’ll handle this.”

At the man’s order, Alex’s landlady reluctantly retreated.

Tugging her arm free, Rachel stepped forward. “This is not Sheriff Robinson, Your Worship,” she explained. “This is his brother, Zane.”

Zane fully expected Rachel to add that she was also being mistreated by him, but she said nothing more.

Wilson shut the door. After turning, he studied Zane. “The resemblance is remarkable. Discounting the beard, of course.”

“They’re identical twins.” After a moment of thoughtful silence, Rachel took the opportunity to glance back at Wilson. Zane noticed immediately that her expression had changed. Because she had an ally in the mayor? “I believe,” she began, her words slow and careful, “that we have a unique opportunity here.”

Zane tossed her a cool glare. Rachel’s demeanor had switched from defensive to calculating. She now looked far too comfortable, and he automatically bristled. “A unique opportunity for what?”

Rachel glanced out the window before answering, probably to ensure that Mrs. Shrankhof had indeed returned to her kitchen. “Mr. Robinson, our town needs a sheriff because ours has gone missing. Perhaps we can come to some kind of agreement? A temporary one, that is, until you find your brother. If I remember correctly, you said you are also a lawman.”

“And you want me to work here so you can make me disappear, as well?”

If he was expecting Rachel to be ruffled at the accusation, he was disappointed. All she did was color slightly. “Alex is missing. You want to find him as much as we do. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

There she went, calling his brother by his first name again, despite her assertions that she wasn’t intimately involved with him. Curious, and not something a well-mannered gentlewoman would be expected to do.

“What did you have in mind, Miss Smith?” the mayor asked.

“It’s not the most ideal situation, but it’s the only one I can think of. Mr. Robinson can adopt his brother’s identity.”

Zane studied Rachel. What kind of town was this that a well-dressed woman could suggest such subterfuge to the town’s mayor with the expectation it would be accepted?

Was it a crooked town, where deception and manipulation were common? It wouldn’t be the first. In his town, Canaan, he had seen the wealthy bend the rules regularly. Was he expecting something different in a town where his brother had mysteriously disappeared?

Rachel met his gaze with only a hint of reluctance. “You mentioned that Alex wasn’t the only lawman in the family. Are you a sheriff, also? If so, where?”

Zane paused. He didn’t want them to know that his latest employment hadn’t ended well. If they questioned his competence or honesty, they might not let him participate in the efforts to find his brother, and Alex needed him. Zane’s disgrace in Illinois didn’t compare to his brother’s safety, and, right now, for full access to Alex’s files and belongings, he would need to convince this pair he was trustworthy. He would just have to take the chance that they would not ask more than the most rudimentary of questions. “I was the sheriff in Canaan, Illinois.”

“Will you take your brother’s place?” There was a hint of desperation in Rachel’s quick words. “It could lead you to Alex.”

Automatically, his lips tightened. “Are you in such a position to offer that to me?”

“No, but I am,” the mayor answered, puffing up more.

“Mayor Wilson wants this town to know that his main priority is their safety and well-being,” Rachel added.

Ah. That’s it. Zane nodded, understanding the situation. “So, it’s an election year?”

“Yes.” Suddenly, a small smile pulled up the corners of the woman’s mouth, one that stated quite bluntly she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by the stratagem. “Our good mayor wants to keep his job. When our old sheriff passed on several months ago, he immediately hired your brother. Like any frontier town, Proud Bend needs a good lawman, and after you find Alex, he can return to his duties, you can return to yours and the rest of the good citizens will remain none the wiser of the switch.”

Zane watched Rachel blink at him with affected innocence. Should he take this curious offer? It did tempt him. Taking the sheriff’s position would give him access to resources he would not otherwise be able to command. If he didn’t take it, what would that do to his chances of finding his brother?

Pare them down to nothing, that’s what, for surely one word from the older Wilson to the younger one and Zane would be punished for not coming on board with the mayor’s—no, wait, Rachel’s—idea of switching identities. He’d probably be run out of town or, at the very least, be denied access to his brother’s office, the one that held the information on the investigation into Alex’s disappearance.

Oh, how he hated politics. All that sly scheming and manipulation. When he’d refused to bow to Canaan’s mayoral pressure to suspend a recent investigation that pointed the finger of guilt at the mayor’s son, Zane had been the one accused of the theft. He’d tried to fight back, only to be framed and forced out of office.

Zane pinned Rachel with another sharp look. “I’m not interested in Proud Bend’s politics, Miss Smith. Nor should you be. You can’t even vote.”

She straightened her shoulders. “My suggestion benefits both you and this town.”

“So why are you so interested? How does this benefit you?”

She blinked, her jaw tightening ever so slightly as she glanced at the mayor. “I have my reasons.” She cleared her throat. “You need to find your brother. What better way than to follow his movements but as his replacement?”

“As his replacement, or acting as him? I don’t do undercover work.” It smelled too much like what had already happened to him, when those on his staff had bent to the mayor’s subtle threats and gone undercover to plant evidence that implicated him.

Rachel studied him. “Or is it that you just don’t care for lies?”

Zane stiffened. Miss Rachel Smith was proving to be as good at reading people as he was, with her quirked eyebrow and sharp, blue-eyed gaze. He’d have to be careful.

“Both. I don’t care for lies—nor do I care for undercover work,” he answered stiffly.

Her demeanor softened. Was that a hint of respect forming in her expression?

“I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Robinson,” Rachel said, quickly recovering her cool manner. “But I can’t see you doing anything else. You know you won’t be able to waltz into the sheriff’s office and demand to see all that Deputy Wilson has done in finding Alex. Or read Alex’s file on Rosa and Daniel. The two cases must be related. Two disappearances in a short period of time? You’d need both files.”

“My brother could be working on a covert assignment—he might not be missing at all.”

“You mean, going undercover without telling his deputy?” She looked skeptical. “Does he like undercover work?”

Zane couldn’t say for sure. The topic had not risen in any conversation Zane had ever had with Alex. “I expect he would do whatever is necessary to find your friend.” Even as Zane said that, he heard the hesitation in his words. Did he not believe them? He hated his own doubt.

Rachel must have heard the uncertainty because she frowned ever so slightly. “Perhaps Alex is dallying where he should not be dallying.”

Zane felt his jaw tighten. No. While Alex had often enjoyed life more than he did, his brother would never abandon his job to “dally” with anyone. Rachel’s suggestion was ludicrous, he told himself a bit too fiercely.

Wasn’t it?

“Do you believe your brother would just walk away from a job?” Rachel asked.

Zane paused and swallowed. The Alex he had grown up with would never have walked away. But after Nicola died a few years back, Alex had taken his wife’s early demise hard, even disappearing once for several days and sending their mother into a frantic state. Yes, he’d changed. He’d decided to live more in the moment, he’d told Zane once. Zane knew Alex was running from his grief, but he would say nothing of that aloud, not in front of these people who would judge Alex harshly if he truly had walked away from his life once again.

At his hesitation, Rachel’s gaze sharpened and Zane immediately heightened his efforts to appear calm and in control.

“Of course this is a political decision,” she said smoothly, wrapping up the conversation as if she was the chair of an important meeting. “But, naturally, one must use common sense here.” As she slipped on one of her gloves, she indicated Zane. “One as—how shall I say this?—unceremonious as yourself won’t get much out of the people here.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Zane allowed himself a small smile. If Miss Rachel Smith had tried to be diplomatic with him, it hadn’t worked. If she’d attempted to offend him, it had slid from him like water off a duck’s back. Regardless, he had been “unceremonious” with her. Alex had inherited all the tact, not him. Zane was the more difficult twin.

“If you refuse,” Mayor Wilson added with a slight edge, “I cannot allow you to start your own investigation. It would be too disruptive.”

To your upcoming campaign? Zane asked himself.

“Why not pick up where your brother has left off, as your brother?” Rachel finished, her voice once again as smooth as a silk pillow. “You might just scare someone who can’t believe the sheriff is still around and walking. Scared people make mistakes.”

True, but scared people acted dangerously, too. Zane drew in a thoughtful breath. He wasn’t going to agree to anything simply because it benefited this pair. “So you’re suggesting Alex’s disappearance is the result of foul play?” Scrubbing his face and beard, Zane knew he had to voice another concern, although he hated it. “What if Alex is dead? Don’t you think that his killer would know I’m not my brother?”

Please, Lord, let that not be so.

His words affected Rachel, he could tell. She swallowed and her mouth tightened, obviously hating that they had to consider that possibility. Her answer was soft and hesitant. “Then we shall have to pray that hasn’t happened.” She blinked, looking remarkably sincere in her grief concerning the idea, but he refused to believe it. “You’ll have to shave your beard, too, Mr. Robinson. Alex is clean shaven.”