The Missing Twin. Pamela Tracy

standing next to the boy sharing his cotton candy with a girl.

      All Angela wanted was to look in the faces of women roughly her own age, searching for Marena.

      The zoo was awash in the Christmas lights not yet taken down. A gift shop was just inside the entrance. It was closed. Angela admired that. This town, this atmosphere, she could grow to love. The carousel spun slowly and Angela moved closer to get a look.

      “It’s fairly new,” said a voice at her side.

      Surprised, she stared up at the man she’d seen Friday at the Corner Diner.

      Cop.

      He couldn’t know who she was. Sheriff Salazar was the only one she had to report to, and there would be no need for him to share the information.

      “The owner of this place, Luke Rittenhouse, dreamed of having a carousel. Last year his wife bought him one for his birthday. Me, I always get ties.”

      “From your wife?” Angela didn’t know why she responded. Cops made her nervous. She’d spent almost a year and a half meeting their demands, trying to live up to their expectations, and feeling like a pawn.

      “No, from my friends and family.”

      “I think I’ll go for a ride,” Celia said. “It’s free.”

      “Free? Are you sure?” Angela stood on her tiptoes and tried to see over the crowded line.

      “Tonight everything but food is free. It’s a celebration.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake Farraday. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You moved into the cabin on Jackrabbit and...”

      Her knees buckled. “You know my address. Why?”

      “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He remained calm, seemingly unaware of the panic he’d sparked in her belly. “I’m a forest ranger. I patrol the area you live in. I’m the one you call if you find a rattlesnake outside your back door or if a bobcat or bear comes too close.”

      “Bear?” She hadn’t though of that.

      “You’d be surprised how far into human territory they’ll venture on the quest for food.”

      “You have a card, Jake Farraday?” she queried. He still had that cop look but maybe it was a stance shared by anyone who wore a uniform.

      Not that he was in uniform tonight. Dark tennis shoes were topped by well-worn jeans, a white T-shirt and a brown jacket.

      Her heart still beat fast and she wanted to blame it on her fear of being exposed. No way was she responding because he was a good-looking man with dark brown hair, cut short, thick enough to still be wavy.

      “I do have a card.”

      “I’m Angela Taylor. That’s my daughter. Celia.” She didn’t take her eyes off him. Seemingly unaware of her gaze, he pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to her. “One of the things I wanted to warn you about—”

      “Mom, come ride with me.” Celia, somehow, had made it onto the ride. She sat on a cream-and-red carousel horse and leaned over, saving the seat on the horse beside her. For the first time since the move, the smile on her face was relaxed and genuine.

      “Excuse me,” Angela said. “Looks like it’s time to cowboy up.”

      She hurried to the carousel, mounting a horse that would only take her in circles—no beginning, no end. Sort of like her current life. She didn’t have to look; she was very aware that Jake Farraday was watching her.

      She always knew when someone was watching her.

      Maybe this time it was okay.

      More than okay.

      Except she couldn’t shake the feeling that their meeting was no accident.

      * * *

      JAKE’S PART OF the Santa Catalina Mountains didn’t rate a visitor’s center. His vehicle was more or less his office, and if he needed something he either used his own cabin or drove to Sabino Canyon where they had an office.

      When someone needed him, they usually called. But this early Monday morning, Rafe was waiting at the end of the driveway when Jake exited his cabin.

      “Something happen?” Jake asked. “I still plan on trash collection. We’re getting close. I know—”

      “It’s not about trash collection.” Rafe didn’t move, just stayed leaning against his SUV and watching the road. “Anything you want to tell me?” he finally asked.

      “No.”

      “Funny,” Rafe said. “I got a call this morning from a federal agent by the name of Buck Topher. That name mean anything to you?”

      When Jake didn’t respond, Rafe continued. “I’m talking about ten years ago when you were a cop in Phoenix. You told me you quit because you endangered a civilian. I’ve never asked for details. Maybe you should tell me now.”

      Jake hesitated. “Why? Why do you want to know?”

      “Because, after the phone call I got this morning I did some background checking and your name popped up.”

      “Angela Taylor.”

      “Yes,” Rafe agreed. “I think I know why she’s here.”

      “Not because of me.”

      Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Convince me.”

      It took only twenty minutes to tell the whole story. Ten years ago it had taken five hours, but then he’d been giving witness testimony with every detail being picked apart and double-checked.

      After Jake finished, Rafe straightened. “Then, you’ll want to know this. The federal agent I spoke with this morning seems to think she’s here looking for her twin sister.”

      “If her twin was here, I’d have recognized her,” Jake said. “Unless she came for those few months I worked at the Grand Canyon.”

      Rafe frowned. “Maybe, but I’ve seen the photos of what the Erickson girls looked like before going into witness protection. The change is remarkable. I’m amazed you recognized Angela.”

      Jake didn’t know how to respond. She no longer resembled that long-ago girl on the bus or her high school graduation photo. Maybe it was the fact that he’d never stopped going over her file, looking at her photos, any coverage he could find—dreaming of what he could have done differently.

      “I don’t know why I recognized her, either. It was just something about the way she walked, the curve of her neck, the way she turned her head. Then, when I came in to see you, I knew she’d not been in asking mundane questions.”

      “And you’re sure you’ve not had that gut feeling about anyone else this past year?”

      “No, I’ve not seen her sister. But I’ve worked quite a bit out of town,” Jake reminded the sheriff. “Plus, wouldn’t her twin have checked in with you, too?”

      “This long in the system, maybe she didn’t want to.” Rafe looked serious. “And maybe she had a reason to disappear.”

      A reason to disappear.

      Jake did the name assignments in his head. Ten years ago, Angela Taylor had been going by the assumed name of Hilary Clifton. Her real name was Marena Erickson.

      Her sister, the one who was missing, was Sophia Erickson. Jake had never known her assumed names. Outside of that day on the bus, Jake hadn’t personally seen either of the twins. His impression, after reading about them, was that Marena was the easygoing twin while Sophia was the risk-taker.

      He’d better start thinking of her as Angela because he didn’t want to compromise her cover again with a slip of the tongue.

      Rafe continued. “According to Topher, Angela’s twin moved