Page 43 of Control Line

With trembling hands, Barney broke the seal on his envelope, scanning over all the words until his brain registered ones he recognized.

Releasedto Zamantha Lynn Kessel

It can’t be.It just can’t be. There has to be a logical explanation, there has to be. Mistaken identity. Something.

As he formed excuses, none stuck. Winslow and Zamantha weren’t common names.

Was that why she was here? Wasn’t enough damage done? Did the man who stole his life need to break his heart, because that’s what had just happened? Barney even looked down at his feet expecting to see blood from the damage, but none was there. Invisible wounds always hurt more.

For Zamantha to come here for the real thing after the imitation died was just sick. His heart scolded him for his ill thoughts toward the woman who owned it, but his brain didn’t listen. There was no way it could be coincidence. Why else would she be here if not for Barney? It was the only explanation.

“This can’t be.”

“What can’t be?” Barney spun at the words and saw Zee standing there in a short shirt and boy shorts, looking sexy as she could sipping coffee.

Shit, he’d been so deep in his head she’d snuck up on him. His pain was deafening him to all other sounds.

“You,” he breathed.

“Well, thank you, but the way you said it didn’t sound like the compliment it did last night.” She smiled. Fucking smiled at him. The knife twisted.

“Why did you come here?”

She looked confused, but he rejected the possibility it was genuine. He had to.

“Why here? You could’ve gone anywhere in the world after the Army. You chose here. Why?” His voice had risen, and he hated himself for it. Even with all that was happening, he realized that this was the third time he’d spoken to her in anger. It was the rule at this point and not the exception. He should get a pass this time though. This was different. She knew the man who killed him.

“I told you, my boy—”

“Right, your boyfriend, Billy. But why here?”

She set her cup down and leaned over the counter. “Guilt, desperation, curiosity, you name it. He was raised here and loved it. Hell, he loved it so much he wrote books about it. Made it sound so amazing I wanted to come. We’d talked about it, but he always put it off, so once he was gone. . .” She let her words trail off, but something tickled his mind about what she’d said.

“Books?”

“Yeah.” She went to the bookshelf and pulled one down, passing it to Barney. “Sunny With a Chance series. That’s the first, Sunny with a Chance of Murder.” She indicated the third shelf of the bookcase. “There’s a whole series set in the fictional Sunnytown, which is based on here. Sunny with a Chance of Love, Deception, and on and on.”

Barney looked down at the cover in his hand. “Derrica Morris?”

“Yeah. He was writing mostly romantic suspense and thought a female name sounded better. Said he chose that after his best friend in college, Morrison. You remind me a lot of the guy he described. Said they were close as brothers, but he died, so that was a tribute to him.”

Barney was raw. Every pain receptor in his body exposed to the air, like a rotten tooth. He didn’t even know how to ask or even if he wanted confirmation, but he had to.

“Picture.”

“What? Barney, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?”

He threw the book across the room and sank to the floor. This wasn’t random, it was personal, and that he didn’t know how to digest. “A picture, damn it. Show me a picture of Billy.”

“I don’t. . .wait.” She grabbed another book from the shelf and turned to the back, handing it to him. “There.”

All the oxygen left his lungs.

The man had not only stolen his identity, he’d also stolen his entire life and published it.

“Do you know why they call me Barney?”

“No, I thought it had something to do with nicknames like military call signs. You said something about the dinosaur, so I assumed. . .”

She was kneeling in front of him concerned, but he couldn’t allow it until he had time to think. She reached for him, but he flinched away. He wanted to let her comfort him but no, she may be the enemy and he didn’t know how to comprehend that. Did he send her here as one last fuck you?

He was about to find out.

Raising his gaze to scrutinize her every micro expression when he spoke, he hoped it would tell him a lot.

“Because of my name. . .Winslow William Barnes the third, but I’m sure you knew that, so you can drop the act.”

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