Page 23 of Tracing Her Stolen Identity (Secure Watch #2)

The cursor sat blinking, a reminder that he hadn’t found his man.

How did a person live in the world for thirteen years without any identification?

He glanced at the woman asleep in the recliner and sighed.

He couldn’t give up. Reece had never wanted to be a hero for anyone until today, when he was so hopelessly useless that he would have traded his life for hers.

He couldn’t do that physically, but he would work through the night if it meant finding the jerk who was tormenting her.

Frustrated, Reece flicked to the Facebook tab and checked the comments on the petition page. The first planted comment had arrived.

It takes no brainpower to believe Skylar Sullivan could commit these crimes or hire some flunky to do it. Lord knows she makes enough money on that garbage she passes off as art.

A smile lifted his lips. Mina had played to Miles’s beliefs perfectly but in a way that didn’t feel fake or forced.

He left the tab open to hear when Binate replied to the comment—and he had no doubt he would.

Mina had gotten behind the idea quickly.

She could see they were at a stalemate until they lulled Binate into a sense that someone was on his side.

While they couldn’t stop the organic comments defending Sky, they could make sure to plant enough negative ones to start stroking the ego of a very fragile man.

Maybe they couldn’t prove it was Miles, but at this point, Reece didn’t find it hard to believe he was involved in some way. His money was still on Silas, though.

Staring at the blinking cursor again, Reece ran down what he’d done so far to find Silas.

Had he crossed every t and dotted every i?

Was there a database he’d missed or a program he hadn’t used?

A quick consult with his list said he’d exhausted every avenue to find this guy.

His gut burned with the knowledge that Silas had been abusing her for years and she’d told no one.

He understood why—that was a common situation victims found themselves in, but it still made him feel as impotent as he’d been this morning when she was dying before his very eyes.

The same way he’d felt that night on the field when all he could do was tell her it would be okay even though they both knew it wouldn’t be.

In just a hair over three days, Skylar Sullivan had consumed him again.

When this was over and she was safe, he had zero idea how he would get her out of his system.

Not that he’d had much success with that over the last decade, but he’d managed by simply ignoring the pain of having half of his soul torn away every morning when he woke up.

He filled his life with endless jobs, conferences and degrees to hide how empty it had become.

Now that he’d had a little taste of being whole again and having tasted her, Reece was well aware he’d never return to that kind of life.

When he’d brushed his lips against hers this morning, his soul fractured.

An ache engulfed him, leaving him drowning in sorrow at the time they’d spent apart.

At the same time, he rode a wave of pleasure and completeness at being connected to her that he had never experienced with anyone in his life.

He’d been with women, but no one left him feeling so hopeful and hopeless with a simple kiss the way Sky had.

Then, in a dark moment, he’d taken her in his arms, and it had become clear that there was no way to return to the life he had led a week ago.

When he glanced at the screen, it reminded him that a week ago, Sky had also been living a different kind of life, and if he didn’t figure out who wanted to destroy her, a week from now, she could be sitting in a jail cell.

He set his jaw and refused even to consider that possibility.

Focused again on the case before him, he reviewed everything, only to reach the same conclusion: Silas had fallen off the face of the earth the moment he drove out of Duluth.

That was just a mirage, though. He gave Silas far more credit than Skylar did when it came to his level of intelligence, so there was only one explanation—he had to be using an alias.

His gut told him that her brother was behind this, which meant he was very much alive and living as someone other than Silas Sullivan.

Cracking the code on the alias was the problem.

Extended family. Always start with extended family.

He remembered the lesson from one of his first professors in college.

Spine straight, he put his hands on the keyboard.

The Nebraska grandparents were Skylar’s mom’s parents.

What was her maiden name? He could ask Sky, but he didn’t want to wake her if he didn’t have to.

She was exhausted after their day, and her body needed to recover.

Also, after her soliloquy about the futility of looking for Silas, he didn’t want to bring it up again until he had proof that her brother was alive and well.

He was out there somewhere dressed as Anonymous and spewing hatred for a woman who didn’t deserve any of this.

Reece might not have been able to catch and protect her that night fourteen years ago, but he would do it this time if it killed him.

Pear Pickin’ Farms, where the sweetness lasts year-round.

Tobias and Marlene Pear , he typed into the computer, remembering the long-ago tagline from their orchard. He’d never been there, but he and Sky would tease each other with that line for years. Funny the things you forgot until it was a matter of life and death.

The screen filled with information about the deaths of Tobias and Marlene ten years ago.

They’d passed away together due to carbon monoxide poisoning.

His gaze flew to Sky, who was still slumbering in the chair.

He’d had no idea they’d passed, but such a tragic, preventable way made it that much harder.

He couldn’t help but wonder if her Grandma Barbara was alive, so he quickly googled her name, only to discover there were way too many Barbara Sullivans to weed through.

His attention was back on Silas, and he opened one of his background programs. He typed in, Silas Pear, age thirty-seven United States .

He hit Return and let it spin, not surprised when no one showed up.

That would have been too easy. What was Silas’s middle name?

Joseph, which was his dad’s name. No, he wouldn’t make it that obvious.

If he was trying to become someone else, he’d have to be far more subtle, or the detectives the family had hired would have found him.

He removed the age, and again, nothing came up.

Reece tried several combinations using his first initial, his grandfather’s name and any other combination of his middle name but came up empty.

Maybe he wasn’t using Pear as a last name, which made this a game of finding the needle in the haystack.

A glance at the clock told him it was after midnight and he should get some sleep and tackle this again in the morning, but his mind was far too activated to sleep.

Since Sky was comfortable, he’d keep working.

His mind was tumbling with all the information he knew about Silas.

He was older than them by enough years that he’d been a teenager when they were still in grade school.

Their experiences were vastly different, but Reece forced his mind to calm and methodically think through the conversations he’d had with Silas.

Once Silas became a teen, Reece and Sky had tried to avoid him as much as possible—especially after he beat the stuffing out of him.

Reece stood on the patio with a cold can of pop in his hand and watched Sky doing handstands and backflips in the yard while Silas yammered on about his video games.

Whoopee, so some character in a video game had the same last name as him.

What good did that do if you couldn’t even play the game as that character?

He didn’t understand the fascination with video games.

Sure, they’re fun when it’s raining or you’re bored, but revolving your life around them was a bit much.

With a jolt, he opened a tab and googled video game characters with the last name Sullivan . Before he could take a breath, he had an entire page of results. The first one? Sergeant Tom Sullivan from Call of Duty . That was Silas’s favorite game.

“Got you,” he whispered as he returned to his program and typed in the name.

There would be a lot of hits, but he could whittle them down quickly.

Once it was down to the two dozen within the age range, he added an S as a middle initial just for grins.

Bingo. That brought it down to six. Why not go all the way?

He thought as he typed in Silas as the middle name.

The boy he used to know had always thought he was the most cunning of video game players, and he wouldn’t be able to resist mixing his name with the hero of his favorite fake war game.

Fingers crossed, he hit Enter and waited not so patiently while the program did its work. Then, before his very eyes, a thirty-five-year-old version of Silas Sullivan filled the screen. Without taking his eyes off the picture, he reached for his phone.