Call It Business ( Book 3 of 'Call It' Series )

Chapter 46 | Off the Records

"So," Macy breathed out in a whisper, puffing her cheeks before forcing her lips to form a tight smirk, "Do you think we somehow passed through a portal and ended up in an alternate universe, or is it just me?"

Craning his neck down at her, Gerard kept his eyes on the family portrait on the fireplace's stone of the mantel shelf. "It sure feels like it," he murmured.

It made more than just felt like it. No.

She could have come up with the perfect theories or a storyline on how Samantha Dawson could be the owner of this place. They had already been aware of how the possible crime committed in their hotels was linked to her case. There must have been an explanation for why her house was the stop of the mysterious truck. However, there was absolutely no explanation, not a single one for the family portrait in a silver frame standing and laughing at their face on the mantel.

A man in a red sweater sat on the very same white, linen sofa Macy was sitting on at the moment. He had a charming smile, honey-blond hair, and brown eyes that shone with the joy radiating off his frozen-in-time figure. In his lap, a little girl who couldn't be possibly more than three years old was sitting. She was clearly unaware of the camera and solely stared up at the woman beside them with an adorable frown etching on her tiny face. That was where things got interesting.

A familiar woman, too familiar, held the little girl's stomach with one hand to prevent her from falling over the man's lap while a big, gorgeous grin reigned over her mouth as her blue eyes lovingly stared at the camera. Her red sweater matched the man's, and her dark brown hair spilled in waves over the man's shoulder as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Macy had seen Samantha Dawson's pictures before.

She had always thought there had been something odd in the way she smiled as if it was forceful, a necessity for a role that was impossible to fit in, or an accessory.

That wasn't her smile.

The dark blue eyes were hers, those lips were hers; the hair and glowing skin were on point while the sweater was up for discussion, but that was not her smile.

Damn, shapeshifters.

"I would say it was just an odd similarity, but," Mark murmured from the armchair after glancing over his shoulder to see if Erin was coming from the kitchen. When it turned out to be safe to continue, he hunched forward and added, "Are you two sure this place still belongs to her?"

"Does it even better if it doesn't?" Macy inquired, tearing her gaze off the frame and staring at Mark, "This house belonged to her, and now, her doppelganger casually lives here?"

To be fair, seeing your doppelganger was a bad omen, and nothing was good about Samantha's life.

"We don't know if she lives here. Maybe she is just a relative?" Mark tried to say.

"Erin can't be more than three or four in that photo," Gerard commented, nodding to the mantel, "She is nineteen now. Samantha passed away twenty-six years ago."

"Ever heard of faking your death to avoid a court that would possibly find you guilty?" Mark inquired in cold mock, arching an eyebrow and pointing his index finger at his icy features, "In fact, that smiley girl you got arrested was preparing fake IDs for a few of them." His smug smirk faded into a frown, "What was her name?"

"Avra," Macy huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

Ignoring the name and not showing any recognition of it, Mark waved a dismissive hand and continued, "From what I heard, Samantha had the whole city wrapped around her finger, love. Perhaps, a wealthy acquaintance of hers found a way to fake a whole accident and save her." His dark brown eyes darted to Gerard, "Just for example, could you personally do that?"