I'll Find You by Nancy Bush

you.”
    “As I recall it, you said you wanted to kill me.”
    “Maybe you should lie down,” he said, ignoring her jibe.
    “Maybe I should go home?”
    He smiled faintly, then sobered as he witnessed her flash of spirit give way to what he thought was pain. He looked down at the table and she sensed he was indecisive about what to do with her. She had a mental image of what he was seeing and understood his doubts. She probably looked like death itself.
    “If you’re not Teresa, you look enough like her to be her double. And the bracelet . . .” he said, trailing off as the waitress approached their table.
    Callie asked for more tea and West ordered the continental breakfast tray for two.
    As the waitress left, Callie realized how hungry she was. She’d missed breakfast and now it was lunchtime.
    “If Stephen didn’t give you the bracelet, where did you get it?” West asked.
    Tricky territory. “It was—a gift from a friend.”
    “What friend?”
    “Just someone I know.”
    “Who?”
    “Her name is Aimee,” she said, telling a half-truth. As soon as she’d said it she wished she’d come up with something else.
    “Aimee,” he said doubtfully after a long moment.
    “That’s right.”
    He shook his head. “There was an accident on Mulholland last year.”
    “Yes . . .”
    “It just so happens I’m from Los Angeles too.”
    “Really.” She found that faintly disturbing.
    “You just decided to vacation on Martinique?”
    “I came here on my honeymoon. With Jonathan,” she reiterated.
    “When was that?”
    “Five . . . no, almost six years ago.”
    A tray of croissants, jellies, butter, and fresh pineapple rings arrived at that moment. Two more tall glasses of iced tea were put down in front of them and Callie felt her sinking spirits revive at the sight of food.
    West didn’t touch the tray. He was distant and remote, staring moodily across the water toward Fort-de-France. “You never met Stephen Laughlin?”
    “No. I don’t know Stephen—your brother, you said?—and I don’t know you.” Callie plucked up a croissant and began to butter it.
    “Half brother,” West said.
    “Still don’t know him.”
    “There aren’t two women who look like you with that bracelet on this island.”
    “Probably not. But I’m not Teresa. If you don’t believe my identification, then, I don’t know. . . .” She broke off.
    West leaned forward. “What?” he asked softly.
    “You can call William Lister, the Cantrell family attorney. He’ll tell you who I am. He knows I’m here. I’ll give you the number.”
    “Family attorney, huh?”
    “That’s right. He’ll tell you everything about me you need to know. Are you ready to write this down, or put it on your phone?”
    West pulled out his cell phone. “You know your attorney’s number by heart?”
    “Well, yes,” she said.
    “You must have a close relationship,” he said dryly. “I expected you to pull out your cell phone.”
    “I don’t have a cell phone.”
    “Really?”
    “Not everyone does,” she pointed out.
    “Yeah, but you look like the kind of woman who would.”
    “You make a lot of assumptions. What kind of job do you have?” she asked.
    “I’m currently unemployed.”
    “Really.”
    He nodded, apparently unwilling to give her any further information. Callie told him the digits, making certain he repeated them back to her. “It’s William’s office number so his receptionist will probably answer.”
    “Who gave you the bracelet?” he asked again as he plugged the number into his call list.
    “You think I’ll have a different answer if you just keep asking?”
    He lifted his head and half-smiled. But then he said, “That bracelet’s a family heirloom. My grandmother’s. And it’s been missing since Teresa took off.”
    Callie didn’t know how to respond. No wonder he thought she was Teresa.
    Teresa . . .
    Was there any chance Teresa was the name Jonathan had called her when they’d first met? Was that