Read Online Spitting Image by Patrick LeClerc - Free Book Online Page B

least she didn’t say “what you are.” I was grateful for that.
    “I need to think. I promise I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. I just need time to process this and be sure I’m not being stupid.”
    “I hate to bring this up, but do your thinking here, where it’s safe. No telling what these people will do now that we’ve sprung you. Give me a few days to clear things up.”
    She sighed, shook her head. “This is what I’m talking about. I can’t go back to my life until you’re sure that the doppelganger who stole my identity to get my boyfriend’s sperm isn’t a threat anymore. Jesus.”
    Well, there wasn’t much to say to that. So I didn’t say much.
    “I’ll fix this. I promise. As quick as I can. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. Yet. But it’ll be thorough.” And probably violent. I felt a burning need to do violence. My life was being taken away. The life I’d chosen after all those years of running and avoiding a stand, and now it was crumbling, all because they wouldn’t leave me alone.
    “Please, take care of yourself,” she said. “You mean the world to me. Honest. I want you to be safe.”
    I forced a grin. “Nobody’s gotten me yet.”
    Not exactly true, but nobody had made it stick.

Chapter 9
    I THOUGHT HARD on the long drive south. I had to do something about these new enemies, but I couldn’t figure out where to start.
    They could be anyone. And if I figured out who they were, they could just be somebody else and escape to fight another day. I could go to the cops, but they could be the cops. Couldn’t ask Caruthers’ employers or co-workers, because he’d expect that so any one of them might be him or one of his family in disguise.
    I remembered the patient Pete and I had treated a day before this all started. The one who looked sick but had perfect vitals and looked heavy but was easy to carry. I didn’t connect it at the time, because who the hell guesses shapechangers, but she could very well have been one of these people spying on me. Christ. How long had they been watching me?
    It looked like anyone I talked to could be an informant in disguise. I couldn’t even ask for time off to work on this without a spy at FlatLine wondering what I was up to.
    So talk to Marty and knife him if he didn’t seem himself? Like if he didn’t seem greasy enough?
    Maybe just knife Marty anyway. Couldn’t hurt to be sure.
    At least I had won this round, gotten Sarah back. Well, rescued. I may not have gotten her back.
    That wasn’t a happy thought. I told myself it wasn’t over yet, but I had to admit it looked bad. And I couldn’t blame her, and I couldn’t change.
    I thought what a support group for my problem would be. “Hi, I’m Sean, and I’m an immortal with supernaturally gifted enemies. It’s been three weeks since anyone has tried to murder or kidnap me, but I’m worried I might relapse.”
    Shit.
    I couldn’t help but feel that it was unfair, because it really wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want this attention, but I didn’t know how to stop attracting it. I could maybe fight my way clear of this latest bunch, but how many more were out there?
    And how could I find out? The only sure contacts I had were Doors, who was a drug smuggler, and who I had shoved a foot of steel through last year, and Caruthers. Doors had kept his word and not resumed his vendetta, but I’m not sure how eager he’d be to pitch in and help me, and I didn’t trust Caruthers. I didn’t know why he was feeding me information, and I had no good way to verify it.
    The only other thing I knew was the location of one property. Maybe I could run down some intelligence on that, look into who owned the cabin, get a name or two, but they were masters of disguise, and they knew that I knew about the cabin so unless they were complete amateurs, they probably were already covering those tracks.
    I wondered what they’d do next. Would