Heather Woodhaven - Covert Christmas Twin

Kendra had used the last six weeks to track down leads in an effort to locate their mother, but now she hesitated. She left the phone untouched since it could turn out to be another dead end, and her twin was a lot more sensitive—despite being a genius PhD at Caltech—to disappointment. Instead, Kendra needed to treat this like any other FBI assignment and stifle her emotions to get the job done. No more stalling.

She hauled open the door to find the classroom set up like a theater. Only a few students gave her half glances before they returned to their laptops, typing away notes as Professor Beverly Walsh lectured without missing a beat. Kendra lowered herself into a chair five rows down, in the first open aisle seat to her left, but unlike the students, she had no interest in lifting the retractable desktop. Her interest was solely in the professor with straight blond hair—first strike, as both Kendra and Audrey had curly brown hair. The professor’s face, though, was turned away as she wrote on the blackboard:

Cluster of cues for deceit: hand touching, face touching, crossing arms, leaning away.

Kendra’s neck heated with the instinctive knowledge that someone was studying her. She turned around as if to examine her armrest, but surveyed the students in the seats around her. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.

“Together, as a cluster, these cues—” the professor tapped on the board with the chalk “—indicate deceit. Separately, they mean nothing, unless...” The professor turned. “Anyone?” Approximately in her fifties, the woman was short in stature—second strike—and shorter than Kendra, who stood a little over five foot seven. The brown pants, buttoned, burgundy cardigan and light blue scarf looked classy—third strike—and professional. Kendra didn’t recognize her own style on the professor at all.

Professor Walsh pointed at a man in the front row. The student casually lowered his hand and leaned forward. “Single cues of deceit can be accurate if a previously collected baseline indicates such.” His voice resonated with a deep and soothing timbre.

From Kendra’s diagonal viewpoint, he appeared to be in his early thirties and had thick dark hair, carefully styled, and a relaxed posture that didn’t match the crisp, blue-collared shirt peeking out from the black canvas jacket. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she should know who the man was, but she couldn’t quite place him. If he turned another fifteen degrees, she’d be able to get a better look at his face.

The professor nodded as she stepped back and regarded the rest of the class. Her green eyes passed over Kendra, and both her posture and face stiffened, as if the professor had just smelled something distasteful. She settled into a neutral face a heartbeat later.

Kendra’s stomach churned. She didn’t know how, and couldn’t claim to be a behavioral analyst, but every fiber of her being felt that Beverly Walsh had recognized her. If Kendra hadn’t been watching, she very well would’ve missed it. Her mouth turned dry. She’d found her mother.

“That’s probably enough for today, so I’ll end class a bit early,” the professor said. “Consider it extra study time for your exam on Friday.” She grabbed the books and papers resting on the top of a podium and stuffed them into a leather messenger bag, then slipped out of a side door next to the blackboard.

Students rushed toward the aisle, filling the stairway leading to the public exit at the top. Kendra dodged them, fighting the stream. To her left, the student who had prompted the professor’s smile stepped down from the first row.

Kendra held back a gasp as their eyes met. She recognized the olive skin, the eyes that matched a stormy sky and the soft smile that suddenly disappeared. His name escaped her, but she knew him. There was no time for a reunion to figure out where, though. She darted across the classroom floor and out the door.

A musty hallway lit by only three fluorescent lights assaulted her sinuses and provoked the start of a tension headache. At the far end, Beverly Walsh hustled toward the exit door. “Professor,” Kendra called. She couldn’t yell out “Mom” yet. That would be too weird.

Beverly shoved the crash bar and as the door swung open, bright sunshine flooded the hallway. Then she disappeared from sight. Kendra hesitated for the briefest of seconds, second-guessing her instincts. Logically, how would Beverly know Kendra was her daughter if she hadn’t seen her since birth? Maybe there was another reason she was running away that didn’t have anything to do with adoption.

Kendra bolted forward, pumping her arms, until she burst out the door a few seconds after the professor. She squinted against the sunshine. The Florida campus was dotted with trees so thick it would be easy to hide. She didn’t spot any students so it seemed to be a rarely used exit, although it was the first Monday morning after Thanksgiving, a prime skip day.

Strands of blond hair swung out from behind a tree. The professor’s swinging hair had given away her location. Even if this woman wasn’t her mother, Kendra wasn’t used to people running away from her unless they had something to hide. She broke into a jog, and with long strides, gained on the professor.

“Get down!” a man’s voice yelled from behind.

A shot rang out from above. Bark chipped off the tree and flew into her face. Kendra held up both arms to block the flying bits of wood from hitting her eyes. She dropped to the ground, rolling behind a tree.

She popped up on one knee, facing the direction of the shot, and reached behind to pull out her own gun. The sun made it difficult to see clearly, but she spotted the shadow of a man in an open window on the top floor. A glint of reflection, most likely a scope, pointed her way.

She raised her weapon and aimed. Another bullet sounded before she could pull the trigger. She flinched, remembering all too well what it felt like for a bullet to pierce her flesh. This time, the pain never came.

The man dropped from the open window. Kendra hadn’t shot him, hadn’t had a chance to fire. She whipped her head around to prevent seeing the gunman hit the pavement, only to find the man she’d recognized in class putting away his weapon. His military stance helped the name rush to the forefront of her mind—Joe Rose, FBI behavioral analyst unit officer.

The professor appeared in her periphery, then rushed past her, toward the broken body on the ground. She bent over and searched his pockets until she pulled out the man’s phone. She pocketed it and rushed toward Kendra while beckoning Joe with her index finger. “Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

Her green eyes flashed as she met Kendra’s gaze. “Put away your weapon! You’ve already caused enough trouble walking into my class without warning. Would you like a sign that says, ‘Please kill me’?”

Beverly walked a few more steps, her gait short but unbelievably fast as she rounded another tree. She spun around. “We need to get out of sight now. This place is about to explode with people and law enforcement.”

Kendra blinked, a flood of hurt and confusion threatening to slow her down, but she rushed after Beverly as if on autopilot. Joe reached her side and pointed at a building up ahead, past another set of trees. She wanted to ask him a million questions but held her tongue. Nothing made sense. She didn’t understand enough about what had just happened to even form an educated question. They rounded another building just as sirens reached their ears.

“Someone found the body already. Great.” Beverly shook her head. “We’re on borrowed time, then. Would it have killed you to use a silencer, Joe?”

“It may surprise you to find out I don’t carry one, Beverly. I thought it’d be best to save Special Agent Parker’s life instead.” His voice remained calm and collected despite the professor’s irritated tone. He turned to Kendra and smirked as if the expression could be a form of greeting. “I’m hoping to find out why she’s here.”