Call After Midnight by Tess Gerritsen

he talked. “The man you married took the name of a dead infant. It’s easy enough to do. You hunt around for the name of a baby who died around the year you were born. Then you get a copy of the birth certificate. With that you apply for a Social Security number, a driver’s license, a marriage license. You become that infant, grown up. A new identity. A new life. With all the records to prove it.”
    â€œBut—but how do you know all this?”
    â€œEverything’s on computer these days. From a few cross-checks, I found out that Geoffrey Fontaine never registered for the draft. He never attended school. He neverheld a bank account—until a year ago, when his name suddenly appeared in a dozen different places.”
    The breath went out of her. “Then who was he?” she whispered at last. “Who did I marry?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Nick answered.
    â€œWhy? Why would he do it? Why would he start a new life?”
    â€œI can think of lots of reasons. My first thought was that he was wanted for some crime. His thumbprints were on record with the driver’s license bureau, so I had them run through the FBI computer. He’s not on any of their lists.”
    â€œThen he wasn’t a criminal.”
    â€œThere’s no proof that he was. Another possibility is that he was in some kind of federal witness program, that he was given a new name for protection. It’s hard for me to check on that. The data are locked up tight. It would, however, give us a motive for his murder.”
    â€œYou mean—the people he testified against—they found him.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œBut he would have told me about something like that, he would have shared it with me….”
    â€œThat’s what makes me think of one more possibility. Maybe you can confirm it.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œWhat if your husband’s new name and new life were just part of his job? He might not have been running from anything. He might have been sent here.”
    â€œYou mean he was a spy,” she said softly.
    He looked at her and nodded. His eyes were as gray as the storm clouds outside.
    â€œI don’t believe this,” she said. “None of it!”
    â€œIt’s real. I assure you.”
    â€œThen why are you telling me ? How do you know I’m not an accomplice or something?”
    â€œI think you’re clean, Mrs. Fontaine. I’ve seen your file—”
    â€œOh. I have a file, too?” she shot back.
    â€œYou got security clearance some years ago, remember? For the research you were working on. Naturally a file was generated.”
    â€œNaturally.”
    â€œBut it’s not just your file that makes me think you’re clean. It’s my own gut feeling. Now convince me I’m right.”
    â€œHow? Should I hook myself up to a polygraph?”
    â€œStart off by telling me about you and Geoffrey. Were you in love?”
    â€œOf course we were!”
    â€œSo it was a real marriage? You had…relations?”
    She flushed. “Yes. Like any normal couple. Do you want to know how often? When?”
    â€œI’m not playing games. I’m sticking my neck out for you. If you don’t like my approach, perhaps you’d prefer the way the Company handles it.”
    â€œThen you haven’t told the CIA?”
    â€œNo.” His chin came up in an unintended gesture of stubbornness. “I don’t care much for the way they do things. I may get slapped down for this, but then again, I may not.”
    â€œSo why are you putting yourself on the line?”
    He shrugged. “Curiosity. Maybe a chance to see what I can do on my own.”
    â€œAmbition?”
    â€œThat’s part of it, I guess. Plus…” He glanced at her, and their eyes met. Suddenly he fell silent.
    â€œPlus what?” she asked.
    â€œNothing.”
    The rain was coming down in sheets and