He’d seen that face every day of his life and never once doubted his identity, even though his black hair, the Roman shape of his nose, and the classic curve to his jaw were nothing like either of his parents’. He leaned closer, staring intently into his own brown eyes as water dripped from equally dark lashes. If he had to guess, at least one of his parents might have been part Middle Eastern, or maybe from any one of the Mediterranean cultures. Not knowing even the most basic of things about them left him feeling lost.

“Who are you?” Sully muttered, then shook off the feeling and plugged in his electric razor.

The simple act of removing the dark stubble on his face was calming. Even though he didn’t know where he’d come from, he was restoring order to his appearance. For now, it was enough.

Once he was finished, he towel dried his hair and got dressed. The last thing to go on were his old Justin boots. They were a little worn at the heels but familiar, and right now he needed all of the grounding he could get.

He pocketed his room key and headed back downstairs, then out to the parking lot to his car. He hadn’t had anything to eat but fast food for a couple of days, so the idea of a sit-down meal was enticing.

The sun was bright, the sky clear as he drove back toward Main. Since he’d left home in a storm, he took the good weather as a positive sign.

He was just turning onto Main Street, eyeing the traffic in the distance ahead of him and watching for the sign to Granny’s Country Kitchen, when all of a sudden, a car came speeding out of a side street and T-boned the car ahead of him. The impact was so hard, it sounded like an explosion. Glass flew as the car spun and stopped, facing the opposite direction. He got a glimpse of a woman behind the wheel, and then steam and smoke began coming out of both cars. Old work habits kicked in as Sully stomped on his brakes, put the car in park, and jumped out running.

* * *

Melissa Dean had been at the shop all morning, overseeing the installation of a new dry-cleaning machine. Her employees were excited to get it and eager to learn how to use it. By the time Melissa left, they were all in the back getting firsthand instructions from the installers.

She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror as she backed away from the curb, liking how the pale-lavender eye shadow she was wearing accentuated her green eyes. And she was still liking the chocolate-brown color of her hair and the shoulder-length cut. She’d come a long way from the drab woman who’d worked at Bloomer’s Hardware.

Growing up an only child in Missouri, she’d never imagined herself being unhappy. She’d always had friends, some more special than others, but there was never a shortage. Her parents moved away from Kansas City when she was in junior high, and she later met her husband, Andy, during her last year of junior college.