Why did I wait this long? Why? Strategy? Fuck strategy. I don’t care about any of that shit any more. I just want her. I want to be with her. I want to be inside her. I want her to stay with me forever.
I barely manage to stop myself from telling her I love her right then and there.
Why not? Why not just tell her right now? Yeah, sure—it’s considered bad form to tell someone you love them right after sex, but dammit, I just don’t care.
I make stupid, post-coital small talk about the quilt on her bed, but it’s a stall tactic. I just want to find the right words. I should tell her how I’m feeling, shouldn’t I? I’m about to open my mouth and spill it all when I hear my phone go off.
Fucking hell.
Somehow, I know it’s Antony even before I head into the living room, grab the phone, and see his name on the screen. I consider throwing the phone into the sink and turning on the garbage disposal, but it’s only a fleeting thought.
Antony O: We got a problem boss.
“What else is new?” I mutter under my breath.
What?
Antony O: Im at the house. Where you at?
What’s going on?
Antony O: Better you hear it in person
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Can’t you just spit it out?” I mutter softly.
I’ll be there in a bit.
I drop the phone and head back to the bedroom to get dressed. Cherry’s gaze drops to the floor when I tell her I have to leave, and I hope soft, gentle kisses will make up for it in some way.
“You could come back.” The look of disappointment on her face burns through my soul.
I continue to apologize on my way out the door, promising to call her in the morning. As soon as I say the words, I regret them. They sound absolutely trite and awful. Again, I have to stop myself from telling her not to worry because I’ve already completely fallen for her.
I’ll have to get back to her soon just to make sure I haven’t screwed everything up.
Chapter 17—Surveillance
Driving back from Cherry’s apartment, I can’t stop smiling. I feel positively elated and even turn up the volume on the radio and sing along with some goofy pop song. I think about my recent trip to the jewelry store, the extravagant purchase I made, and wonder if I should return it and get a bigger diamond.
No, Cherry wouldn’t want something too outlandish.
I can see it in my head. Next weekend is the last day of the Maple Syrup Festival, and I know exactly where I want to be when I drop down to one knee and ask her that momentous question. I can see the expression on her face as she smiles and accepts my proposal. I can hear the cheering from the townsfolk all around us.
When I get home, Antony is standing in my office, leaning over some documents spread out over my desk. He glances at me, his expression grim at first, but then I see a slight smile emerge.
“Well?” I ask as I toss my jacket onto the couch. “What’s going on?”
“You know your shirt isn’t buttoned right.”
“Fuck you.” I glance down at the misaligned buttons. I can’t help but grin a little when I think of the reason why, so I don’t do anything to correct them. “Don’t give me that shit. Why did you call me back? What’s up?
“If you remember, you asked me to follow up on Cherry’s doctored documents.”
“Did you finally find something?” The idea of being able to tell Cherry we made progress on finding her parents makes me smile even more. I can imagine how excited she’s going to be if we have names to give her. Maybe her parents are even still alive and here in town.
“It took a lot of digging, but yeah—I found out a couple of things.”
“What?” I move to Antony’s side.
Antony pushes a document across the desk, and I lean over to look at it.
“What is this?” I ask, frowning.
“This is the original original birth certificate,” Antony says. “This is the birth certificate used as a template for the one we found in the records office.”
I look over the paper, trying to understand what it means as I read the name.
“Cherice Montgomery? Is that her real last name?”
“No. Check the date. Cherice Montgomery was born in 1946 and died back in the seventies. I did check out her records, and it looks like the social security number Cherry has on file matches Cherice Montgomery’s.”
“So, who was this woman?” I wonder if Cherry might have been named after her grandmother. “Was she related to Cherry’s aunt?”
“Not as far as I can tell. Virginia Bay doesn’t have any siblings who lived to adulthood. Her father had one brother, and her mother was an only child. Father’s brother had a son, but he died from some heart defect as a child. No living relatives as far as I can find.”
“What about great aunts or uncles?”
“Well, I went back a bit, and there are always distant relatives, but no one I can find had any contact with Virginia Bay and no one who’s related to Cherice Montgomery. My guess is that she was just a random dead person the forger picked out to use for the documents. We do that all the time when we’re giving someone a completely new identity.”
“Any indication of who altered the records or why?”
“The only thing I know for sure is that it wasn’t us. If we were going to doctor up official records, we’d do a good job of it, not this bullshit.”
“So, who else could it be?”
“My gut tells me it’s got to be
