Thank God for Jem. And Lacey. Levi seemed like a perfectly normal, happy kid.
“It’s so great of you to do this,” Lacey said as she led Mike to the home office she shared with her husband. “I know you’re crazy busy—hence a house call after eight at night...”
He shrugged. Work was a high to him. He was the best at what he did. “Saved me from dinner with Charlie and her brood,” he said, though, truth be told, he generally enjoyed dinner with his sister’s family. Unless she was being overprotective—which was about half the time.
Lacey was booting up her computer. “She’s got a little one Levi’s age.”
“That’s right. Bella.”
“I saw her hugging you after the Christmas pageant. I was heading over to say hi, hoping maybe you’d introduce us to your family, but you’d already left.”
He’d seen Kacey and bolted before things got awkward.
The kids weren’t in the same class, just the same grade. And he and Kacey hadn’t communicated via text or email almost every day back then. He hadn’t been aware of her plans, or even known she’d be in town unless she happened to show up at the Lemonade Stand when he was there.
Well...he’d always known about Fridays, of course, because of her class. And because, for a long time, that was when they’d meet to talk about her struggles living a cleaner lifestyle in LA. After her class. In the small private office he still kept in the rear of the computer repair shop that was on the street backing up to the Lemonade Stand. The whole block had shops with secure entrances to and from the Stand.
And was owned by the Stand’s benefactor, Brett Ackerman. All proceeds from the shops open to the public helped to support the women’s shelter. Mike had spent a lot more time there when they’d first been setting up the computer repair shop than he did now.
“Here you go,” Lacey said. “Have at it.”
He glanced at the screen. Emails were still coming in. “You want to take a look and move anything you’d rather I don’t see?”
She shook her head. “I want to know who’s using our email account. Look at anything you need to...”
He was an IT investigator. He knew the kinds of things that could be found. Not that he expected Lacey—or Jem—to have anything illegal on their machines. But...private...was conceivable.
“What about confidential work files?”
She shook her head. “Not on that machine. I log in to my work computer—”
“Which answers my next question. The two computers are connected sometimes?”
“Yes.” She was frowning.
“And do you ever email Kacey with your private account from work?”
“I don’t remember specifically doing so, but I’m sure I have. I’ve never made it a point not to.”
“Can you hide files and do whatever is necessary so I can get a look at that machine tomorrow?”
“You do investigations for the local police, don’t you?”
“I have. On occasion. They have their own IT investigators.”
“If you have clearance with them, you’ve got clearance with us. It’s a city-wide thing.”
He’d known he had clearance, just not that she wouldn’t have to go through extra red tape.
He was already sitting in her desk chair, clicking through screens.
“You’re doing that so quickly, how can you even know what’s there?”
“I’m searching for something very specific. I know where it will be...” He looked at back-door computer information all day, every day. “It’s like any foreign language.” He often told ladies at the Lemonade Stand the same thing. “Once you learn it, you don’t have to think about it. You just recognize it.”
Not that he taught computer forensics to the residents at the Stand. With them it was more basic programming for career training...
He took a couple of screen shots, emailed them to himself and then stood up. “I’m done here,” he said, as eager to be gone as he’d been to visit.
This urge he’d had to get to know Lacey a little better—more of a curiosity, really—because she and Kacey were so tightly intertwined, wasn’t good.
And he most certainly didn’t need to see where Kacey stayed when she was in town any more than he’d ever have cause to see her place in Beverly Hills.
“You want a cup of coffee?” Lacey asked. “Or a beer? Jem’ll be out in a couple of minutes and I know he’d share a beer with you. I can’t stand the stuff, so he’s always looking for an excuse to have one with someone.”
Mike was already shaking his head. “I should be getting back,” he said, filled with even more eagerness to go when he realized how tempted he was to stay.
“You sure? I baked cookies with Levi last night. There are still a bunch left.”
She’d led him to the kitchen rather than to the front door and took the lid off a cookie jar that was shaped like a teddy bear. He didn’t want to be rude.
But he couldn’t stay. Dipping his hand in the jar, he came up with a chocolate chip cookie that could rival his mother’s.
That made him think about the home-cooked dinner he’d missed at his sister’s. About the home Lacey and Jem shared. The ones both of his sisters and their husbands shared. The one his parents shared.
His younger brother Dennis stayed with Mike on the rare occasions Dennis was in town. And as soon as he graduated from college in May, he’d be back even less. Dennis wanted to be a professional fisherman and spent up to three months at a time out on one of the big boats in the middle of the ocean.
Escapism, Mike termed it.
“This is good,” he said, taking a second bite and closing his mouth so he could chew and swallow. Closing his mouth so he didn’t say something he’d regret.
Like accepting that cup of coffee. Or a beer.
He hadn’t finished his bourbon.
Lacey grinned. Offered him another. And smiled. Her mouth...it curved just like Kacey’s did. But there the resemblance ended.
He liked Lacey and found a curious kind of peace in her company.
With Kacey, he buzzed. Like he was fully alive. Sexually, of course, that was a given, but intellectually, too.
“What?” Lacey asked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re staring at me. But don’t worry, I’m used to it. It was rude of me to say anything...” She turned her back, put the cookie jar in the corner of the counter.
“I didn’t mean to stare,” he said. “It was rude. And you have every right to say something.” He knew all about the struggles between the identical twins—about Lacey’s feeling she was always living in Kacey’s shadow, settling for second best.
Until Jem, of course. She’d been his first choice.
He could tell her all that. Tell her that he’d been noticing how, in spite of their identical appearance, she looked so different than her sister to him.
But, of course, he wouldn’t.
“I should get going,” he said instead. Way past time.
“I’m sure Kacey’s paying you, but I’d be glad to make the first installment, since she’s in LA.” Lacey reached for her purse. “I can write you