His mistaken Identity

Chapter 2

Christopher gave the picture in his hand another inspection. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out as many details as possible. It was not easy. Everything had gone digital in recent years and hard copy pictures were rare. Make matters worse, it looked like the picture had been taken with an ordinary phone with average camera quality before it was printed. The quality of the picture was compromised.

He could make out a few details, though. Thank God the image had been printed in color. The woman in the picture was of mixed race just like him, with light chocolate skin. She looked young, at least a few years younger than his twenty eight. Christopher was guessing she was in her early twenties. But she also looked tired. He doubted the darker skin tone below her eyes was makeup. He could tell that much, even though almost half her face was turned away from the camera. It was also hard to miss; she was more than lean; she looked almost skinny to the bone. Like she hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

And her slender arms were wrapped protectively around a bundle of blankets, which he could only assume held the baby within.

Christopher frowned. His mind began to race. For the baby to be wrapped up so tight in what he could tell were several layers of blankets and sheets could only mean that the baby could not be older than a few weeks. It could also mean that the baby was small for its age, but Christopher knew older babies were usually not wrapped in so many blankets.

The wheels in his brain continued to turn, looking for any possibility he was indeed responsible for the child, even though he could definitely not remember the mother.

A full minute went by, and still Christopher was convinced he was not the culprit responsible for half the chromosomes in that baby. He had not been a virgin when he met Natasha, but he had been faithful for the whole two and a half years he had been with her. He had not so much as kissed another woman during that time, no matter the temptation. And he had no recollection of ever getting so drunk he forgot what he had done the day before.

Christopher shook his head again. No, he was convinced whoever these people were; they were not connected to him. But there was one problem, the letter had his name, and it said the baby was his. He looked at the piece of paper and read it again.

“A son,” he murmured under his breath in wonder. Then he gave his head a hard shake. It wasn’t his habit to entertain madness, and he wasn’t about to start now. Getting excited over a son that was definitely not his was total madness. He wasn’t that desperate to be a father. If that had been the case, he would have risked going bare with Natasha; something he made absolutely sure never to do.

After a few more seconds of looking at the picture, he came to a decision, picked up his jacket, and left the house. Rather than sitting there wondering, he had a better chance of making sense of everything if he talked to someone. And he only had one person in mind.

The forty-minute drive from his house to his destination passed in a haze of a thousand questions going through his mind with no forthcoming answers.

Christopher arrived at his friend’s house and honked insistently for seconds until an angry security guard opened the gate. The man looked ready to drag him out of his car and demand why he was making such a ruckus when recognition flashed across his face. Of course, he knew who Christopher was; it was not the first time he came to his friend’s house. But it was certainly the first time he acted so rudely. Reluctantly, the guard finally opened the gate and Christopher drove in without wasting a second more.

Thomas stood waiting on his veranda in a pair of loose basketball shorts. His chest was bare and wet, like he had just jumped out of the shower and had worn the first thing he could find. A deep frown creased his forehead even as he realized who had just driven into his yard so late in the day with the sun already setting and darkness slowly taking over.

“Christopher, where’s the fire?” Thomas asked as soon as his friend stepped out of the car.

Christopher shut his door, walked up to Thomas and handed over the paper and photograph without saying a word. He had a feeling the items would explain better than he could.

Thomas looked at him for a moment, searching his face as though the answers were written there. When he finally found none, he focused his eyes on what had been handed to him. His frowning face took on a more serious look as he finished reading the note, and then he took a closer look at the picture.

After almost a full minute, which felt even longer for Christopher, who stood there waiting for a reaction. Thomas looked up at his friend. “How about we go inside and discuss this over a beer? I could use a shirt too,” he added the last part under his breath as though just realizing he was half naked. It was probably brought to his attention when the finally cooling evening breeze blew their way.

Christopher nodded. It definitely wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have on the veranda while standing. Especially not with a very curious security guard who now stood and watched them as though he feared Christopher could suddenly go off and try to kill Thomas.

Christopher was no stranger to Thomas’ house. He knew where everything was found, as though it was his second home. That’s what happened when two single young men were friends for years. So, while Thomas went in search of more clothing, Christopher made himself at home and grabbed a few bottles of beer from the fridge before he settled on the couch in the living room.

His friend’s house wasn’t that bad, Christopher thought, not for the first time, as he allowed his eyes to wander around for a moment.

There was a forty-two inch TV on a white stand against the wall. It was currently on and showing a basketball game with the volume too low for Christopher to really hear anything. Which was just fine because he had little interest in watching a game.

The rest of the living room was mainly occupied by dark brown lawson style couches. One of which he was seated on. A coffee table in the middle of a brown rag the same shade as the couches completed the look.

Christopher was deep in thought and halfway through his first bottle of beer by the time his friend returned. Thomas took one look at the half empty Castle Lite bottle and shook his head.

“Maybe something stronger?” he asked and went back into the kitchen to return with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue label whisky and two glasses.

Christopher eyed the bottle with apprehension, suddenly wondering if it was a good idea. But then he remembered what had brought him to his friend’s house.

Once they were both settled with a glass each, Thomas finally asked, “So… Should I say congratulations?”

It seemed his friend had decided to start with the least disturbing part of the whole matter. Christopher still didn’t appreciate the question though; he gave his friend a frosty glare.

A beat passed. Christopher swallowed more of his whisky before he responded as though he needed it to loosen his throat enough to talk. “It’s not mine.”

Thomas raised a brow. “Is it like when someone denies it’s theirs because they don’t want the responsibility… or you are actually serious, it’s not yours?”

“Come on, man. You have known me, what? Three years? Have you ever seen me with that woman?”

Thomas studied the picture again thoughtfully, as though he was trying to dig through his brain for a missing memory. “She does look to be on the skinnier side… not exactly your type. I happen to know you like meat on your bones. Shock absorbers for the pounding,” his friend finished with a light chuckle.

Christopher saw nothing to laugh about. He shook his head and sighed. “A man knows when he has played around… left his seed swimming around somewhere... and I haven’t. I’ve been so careful I should be awarded for practicing safe sex.”

A brief chuckle left Thomas’ lip. “Don’t exaggerate. Okay... okay, I believe you.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking before he continued. “Now about this note… you owe people money?”

Christopher shook his head again and looked his friend in the eye. “Trust me, that is the other puzzle I don’t understand. My business gives out loans… people owe me money, I don’t owe anyone.”

Thomas seemed to really think about this for a moment. “So in short… If I’ve got this right. Some unknown people are threatening to kill a woman and child you know nothing about, demanding you pay them back money you equally know nothing about.”

“That pretty much sums it up, yes. And you wonder why I was ready to knock down your gate?”

“Hmm,” Thomas hummed in understanding before adding, “As flattering as it is that you came to me with this problem… I am not sure what exactly I can do to help,” he said thoughtfully as he studied the picture again.

Christopher sighed heavily and dropped his head on the back cushion on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I was afraid you would say that. But it was still a better option to discuss it with you than drive myself crazy with it.”

Thomas finished his glass then looked up suddenly like something had just occurred to him. “How did your dear Natasha take this exactly? I assume she saw it…?”

Christopher groaned and emptied his glass in one large gulp. He winced as the alcohol burned his throat all the way down to his empty stomach.

“I hope you have no illusions of driving home today. I won’t let you out of this house.” Thomas informed him sternly.

Christopher chuckled and poured himself another glass, making sure to fill it up this time. “I have no interest in returning to an empty house tonight, my friend.”

“What do you mean, empty house? Where is the lovely Natasha?”

As though the weight of the entire day suddenly sat on his shoulders, Christopher gave a half hearted shrug. “She received the letter and picture before I got home from the office. Natasha appointed herself the judge, jury and executioner… I found her with her bags ready to go. She didn’t even bother to wait to hear what I had to say.”

“The b***h! What happened to love, trust and all that s**t she had been singing about for years?”

“Good question,” Christopher drawled, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He could really feel a migraine coming on, but the alcohol was acting as a great painkiller, so he couldn’t complain.

Thomas watched for a moment, feeling really sorry for his friend. “I’m really sorry, man.”

Christopher kept his eyes closed. Was he really devastated that Natasha had left? He asked himself. It was the longest relationship he had ever had. Reflecting back on it he could see it had been nice to share his life and home with Natasha. Very comfortable. He had even considered the possibility of marrying the woman one day. But devastated, he was not. He was more concerned about the woman and her young son in the picture.

He opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “Damn woman could have burst your eardrums when she screamed.”

Thomas laughed and this time, Christopher joined in. Minutes later when they both sobered, they enjoyed a few moments of companionable silence. Then Christopher spoke again. “I should go to the police with this, maybe they can do something.”

His friend shook his head. “Doubtful, this is not the States, my friend… there are so many unknowns in this case, all they will do is bury it under some paperwork and that will be the end. A simple case of tracking a stolen phone which has a GPS they can easily trace takes months, sometimes years, with no solution.” Thomas shook his head again. “Just pray this is some bad April fools’ joke and forget about it.”

“We are not in April, Thomas.”

“Hence it being a bad joke.”

Christopher frowned. “And what if it’s not a joke? What if this woman and her son are really in danger?”

Thomas finished his second glass and stared at his friend. “Are you Rambo or Captain America? Look… I am just saying, you don’t know them so…”

“I just can’t forget about them like that. This letter was delivered at my house for God’s sake.”

Thomas suddenly sat up and looked very serious. “Which brings me to another matter… you need to move out of your house. By tomorrow evening the latest.”

“What?” Christopher gave his friend an incredulous stare. He couldn’t be serious.

“If people can deliver such creepy letters at your doorstep… it’s time to change locations.”

Christopher shook his head in disbelief. “So you agree this is serious enough for me to relocate, but I should just forget about the woman and her baby?”

Thomas shrugged. “I can only give you advice on what I feel is actually within your power to do. Finding that woman and her baby… is not within your abilities. Where are you going to start?”

As much as it irritated him, Thomas made a compelling argument. Where indeed did he start looking for that woman? He sat back and wondered if he even wanted to get involved in whatever was going on.