Out of Time (Lovers in Time Series, Book 1): Time Travel Romance Read online

  "Back? Can you really do that?" Enthusiasm had him taking a step toward her but a glance at the gun held him in place. "What would I have to do to go back?"

  Kelly was no longer afraid of the poor man but she didn't know what to do with the gun now that it was out of its hiding place. She decided to hold onto it but put the safety back on and directed it at the floor. "Why don't you begin by telling me your name."

  "Jack Templeton."

  The gun slipped out of her hand and hit the wooden floor by her foot, making her glad she'd put the safety back on. As she retrieved her weapon, she scrutinized the man's face. She knew he couldn't be that Jack Templeton, yet he bore a very strong resemblance to the man in the photo and her dream. "You do look like him. Are you a relative?" The bewildered expression on his face seemed frozen.

  She looked at the table and noted that the files and clippings were now in neat little piles rather than spread out as she'd left them. There was nothing damaged about his brain. "You went through my research materials. And you were trying to get into my computer files. Why?" When he didn't answer immediately, she raised the gun again. "I asked you a question. Now, I want to know who you are and what you were looking for. Did someone send you to spy on me? Will? Or Darren? I wouldn't put it past either of them. Please don't tell me Bruce has gotten so twisted that he hired an investigator."

  "Look, lady, I don't know any of those guys. All I know is you have a news article on me. Maybe you're the spy. Why don't you tell me why you have that information, yet don't seem to know what I'm doing here?"

  There wasn't even a hint of deceit in his eyes. Since a death threat hadn't forced the truth out of him, perhaps logic would work. She walked over to the table, picked up the clipping with Templeton's photo on it and held it up. "I admit you look like this Jack Templeton. But you cannot be this man. Fifty-one years ago today he was executed for the rape and murder of a woman not far from this cabin. Would you like to explain how that could be possible?"

  "Fifty-one years ago? Today?" Jack repeated his questions in a hushed voice then slumped onto a chair by the table. "Where am I?"

  Kelly was back to thinking he had a serious mental problem. "About eight miles west of Charming."

  His eyes narrowed in concentration. "Charming? There was only one place I ever heard of called Charming and it was anything but." He stared at her intently then his brows raised in awareness. "Good God. You're not kidding. I'm still in Georgia? And the date is..."

  "August 24, 2016."

  He rubbed his forehead as though trying to get rid of a bad headache. "I don't understand any of this."

  "It might help if you'd be honest with me."

  He stared up at her with complete sincerity. "I am being completely honest. I have no idea how it could be but I am the man in that article. This morning it was 1965 and I was strapped into an electric chair with electrodes attached to my head and calf. I felt the first surge then the lights went out and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the woods, naked as the day I was born. I figured I was in purgatory."

  Kelly chuckled despite the circumstances. "I've heard Georgia called worse than that."

  "The article said I was completely incinerated but if this isn't the afterlife, I must not have died. Instead, I was somehow... moved."

  "Moved? As in transported through time and space? As far as I know that hasn't been invented yet. Have you considered blaming an alien abduction?"

  "Look at these." He pointed to the newly burned circles of flesh.

  She took a step back. "I see."

  "I won't hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. I didn't kill Ginger O'Neill. Nor did I ever rape one woman let alone nine. I was framed!"

  Kelly sat down across from him and placed the gun on her lap. "Whether Jack Templeton was framed or guilty, you can't be him."

  "Then who can I be?"

  "I would say you're a man who looks very much like the late Jack Templeton and burned two circles on his body to convince me he'd been electrocuted."

  Jack threw up his hands in disgust. "Why the hell would I do that? I don't even know you. I certainly wouldn't burn myself to convince you of anything." His expression suddenly changed and he angled his head at her. "Maybe you're the one who's lying and this is all part of a test I'm being put through. We're out in the middle of the woods. You could tell me we were on Pluto and there's nothing around to prove you wrong. That's it, isn't it? Instead of being electrocuted, I was just knocked unconscious and brought here. They must have figured I'd make a full confession if I thought I was already dead."

  He rose abruptly and pointed his finger at her. "Well, it won't work, lady. No matter how sexy you are or how big your gun is, there's nothing you can do to make me confess to something I didn't do. You may as well just take me back to the pen so they can finish what they started."

  Kelly nodded approvingly. "You have a very fertile imagination. You should consider fiction writing as a career."

  "I'll stick to nonfiction, thank you. That way I know what's real and what's make-believe. Do you admit this is a set up?"

  She clucked her tongue. "We seem to be at an impasse. I don't believe you and you don't believe me. But I do believe you're confused. Is there someone I can call for you? A doctor maybe? The cell reception here sucks but I could get lucky."

  He shook his head. "No. There's no one. At least not nearby."

  "Well, maybe you just need to have your memory jogged. If you really have no clothes, you couldn't have come far. You probably live in the area. All you have to do is walk out that door and turn left. Charming is in that direction. Someone might recognize you there. And if you're still convinced I'm lying to you, look at a newspaper. That should confirm where and when you are at the moment."

  He frowned at her and looked down at his bare feet. "I don't suppose you'd have a pair of size eleven shoes around and maybe some longer pants."

  "Sorry," she said with a shrug then stood. "As interesting as this has been, I really need to get back to work now and you need to... go back to wherever you came from."

  He walked to the door then turned back to her. "Would you at least tell me why you have all that information about crimes?"

  She almost smiled. "I'm an author, a fiction author. I mainly write romantic suspense. Love and murder mixed together. Your case—I mean the Templeton case, interested me."

  He nodded, as if that made some sense to him. "Well it was very nice to meet you... " He held out his hand to her, clearly expecting an introduction.

  "Kelly Kirkwood," she said, extending her hand toward his. The instant their palms met, a bluish light crackled around their hands, a powerful shock ran up Kelly's arm and she was forcibly projected against the wall several feet behind her.

  Chapter 3

  "Good God!" Jack exclaimed as Kelly dropped to the floor. He stepped closer but didn't dare touch her again. "Are you all right?"

  Kelly blinked her eyes until she could focus on him. Her mouth was dry and tasted of metal. "I... I'm... tingling. All over. You know, like when your foot falls asleep. What happened?"

  He knelt down to her level. "Did you see that bluish spark when our hands touched? It happened before, when I tried to touch that typewriter sort of thing. I didn't think I'd caused it that time but now, well, I think I might have some kind of electrical charge left over from the electrocution."

  She looked at him doubtfully but she couldn't deny that she'd been shocked by him. "You really believe you're Jack Templeton and that you were electrocuted but didn't die?"

  "I swear. If I could think of a way to prove it, I would."

  She wished he could also. He certainly looked like Templeton, without having aged a day. And he did have those two fresh burn wounds, which could have been caused by electrodes. He seemed to be as disoriented and upset as he should be if his story were true. And he had definitely shocked her far beyond what normal static electricity felt like. But was he actually carrying an electrical charge from being electroc
uted?

  An idea occurred to her and she tried to stand, without success. "Help me up." She moved to grasp his arm for support but a visible spark leaped between them before contact was made.

  "I'm sorry." He stepped away then pushed a chair next to her. "Here. Use this."

  With some effort, she got to her feet and went over to the computer and turned off the power. "Come here and show me what you did before." As he neared, she backed away... just in case.

  Jack slowly brought his index finger closer to the laptop. When he was an inch away, a blue spark jumped from his fingertip into the keyboard, accompanied by a slight crackling sound. A second later, both the computer and her printer were powered on again.

  Not wanting to jump to a wild conclusion too quickly, she turned the equipment off then went outside to the generator and shut that off as well. "Try it again," she ordered.

  He obeyed and the computer turned on again but the moment he moved away, the power went with him. He walked out to the generator and turned it back on with little more than a tap.

  "This is truly eerie," Kelly said with wide eyes.

  "No kidding. Do you believe me now?"

  "I believe you believe it. And I believe something very out of the ordinary is going on... but it's not... realistic. Time travel is not possible."

  Jack shrugged. "I didn't think so this morning but if you were being honest with me about the date, I can't think of a better explanation for my being here, alive and well... more or less."

  "Okay, let me think." Kelly wiggled her fingers to make sure she had all the feeling back again then began to pace back and forth. "First, let's do what I do when I'm making up a story. We have to let go of what we believe to be reality and imagine that anything is possible. I suppose if a tremendous electrical charge, like from an electric chair, could disrupt all the cells in a man's body sufficiently to kill him then it might also be possible for a charge to cause the cells to be relocated. But why to this place? At this particular time?"

  Jack shrugged again. "An opposite charge? Positive to negative or vice-versa."

  "I don't think so. The generator's not that strong. What else would pull you here?" She started pacing around the room as she mentally reviewed the time-travel novel she'd recently read and recalled tidbits from some of the time-travel movies she'd seen. "There must be a connection. If I was writing this as a story, I'd make you innocent, as you claimed. You would be transported to me at this place and time because I was researching your case and had doubts about your guilt."

  Jack's eyes lit up with interest. "You had doubts?"

  She waved at him. "Hush. I'm creating. Where was I? Oh, yes. The author had doubts and could help you—the falsely convicted man—set things right." She purposely left out the part where the two characters would fall in love. Not that she didn't find him attractive. The desire to run her fingers through all that dark wavy hair was almost as strong as her fear of making contact with him again. How could there be a romance if the hero's kiss could accidentally electrocute the heroine?

  Talk about getting charged up by a man.

  "How could I set things right five decades later?"

  "What?"

  He repeated his question.

  She pushed the question of a romantic subplot to the back of her mind. "Well, you'd have to go back in time to fix things, of course, probably by another electrocution or a lightning stroke or something. Hey, this could actually turn into a new kind of plot for me. I've never used any paranormal aspects in my books before but I think my editor would go for it."

  She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her system in anticipation of diving into a new story. "You know, just this morning I was thinking about the coincidence of my researching your case right near where the murder happened and how it was the exact date of your execution. It's not uncommon for that kind of thing to happen to me when I'm creating. Like I need a reason for a character to behave a certain way and an hour later someone calls with a problem that I can adapt. I always thank my muse for her assistance. Just this morning I was thanking her for—"

  "Kelly?"

  She stopped pacing and faced him. "Huh?"

  "This isn't fiction. And I'm not just an idea. I am really Jack Templeton. I was really electrocuted this morning in 1965 and somehow transported to you in 2016. And I really need some help. I wasn't lying about arriving here with nothing. I don't know how or why but I've been given a second chance. The problem is, I don't even have a dime for a cup of coffee."

  "You'd need a couple dollars, at least. Coffee's a much more valuable commodity than it used to be."

  "Good God. Anyway, I'll be glad to get out of your hair but if you could possibly make me a small loan, I swear I'll pay you back as soon as I get a job—"

  "Whoa! It doesn't work that way. Weren't you listening to me? I'm not saying I buy your whole story but it seems to be juicing my creativity, so, I've decided to suspend my disbelief for my own convenience. Now, if we're going to accept the possibility that you traveled through time then we have to accept all of it. You were sent to me for a reason—probably because I can help you set things right."

  "But," he countered, "as of this minute, things are right... for me. I'm alive and free. I can start a whole new life in this time period. I'm an ace reporter. I could get work in a heartbeat. I just need a stake, a small one. I can eat bread and water, sleep in the woods and buy clothes at a thrift shop."

  "Forget it," she said with a smug expression. "You couldn't get a regular job of any kind without identification and you wouldn't get any paying freelance jobs without credentials. I once did some research for a book where a character was put into a witness protection program. With enough money, there are black-market ways to get you set up with a new identity—driver's license, social security number, even an IRS file—but you'd still have to live a very quiet life so that no one ever has reason to look twice at your background. And it's not just paperwork that could trip you up. Besides fingerprint identification, now there's DNA, facial recognition programs, retinal eye scans—"

  He held up a hand to stop her. "Okay, okay. I don't know what all that is but I get your gist. My being an outspoken liberal journalist is probably out of the question. So I get hold of some credible fake ID like you described, take a menial job, live quietly and keep my nose squeaky clean." His shrug suggested it wasn't that big of a deal to him. "Remember, I've done plenty of research myself... about real people. I'd manage."

  She frowned. He probably would manage... as some wealthy older woman's boy-toy. "All right. But what about Ginger? Wouldn't you like to go back and save her?"

  "Of course. But how would I do that? And how would I control what date I would go to? Besides, even if I could go back before her murder, who would I warn? Every authority in the area, probably the whole state of Georgia, is controlled by the Klan. It's not like I made a lot of friends."

  "What about an authority outside the state?"

  His facial expression abruptly changed as though her words turned on a light in his mind. "Outside? You mean like the FBI?"

  "Sure. Why not? Wasn't Hoover still in charge in 1965? He sounded like someone who would want to shut down the Klan."

  "I'd never get all the way to Hoover, but... ah, shit! There was this Fed I met in Atlanta. He'd read one of my articles and said he'd be interested in any evidence I uncovered about the Klan. He gave me his card."

  "That's great! You could call him."

  "Good idea. Unfortunately I stuck his card in my wallet and never thought about it again. Then the wallet was taken from me when I got arrested. You can bet someone went through it and handed the card over to whoever was pulling the strings. Considering everything, he might have been eliminated as well, just in case."

  "And I gather you don't remember his name..."

  Jack shook his head. "I remember the card said Special Agent. I think there was an initial, like B or D or maybe G, and the last name was ordinary, started with an H, like Howa
rd or Hughes."

  "So no, you couldn't just call the FBI and ask for him."

  He shrugged. "Even if I could, what could I tell him that would set things right? Ginger would probably still be murdered and I'd still be electrocuted for it."

  Kelly's eyes widened and she pointed her finger at him. "There! That's why you have to go back."

  He made a face at her. "To give the electric chair another chance?"

  "No! To figure out who framed you and uncover who the real murderer was. To clear your name. Didn't you have family? Surely you'd like them to know the truth." It took him so long to answer, she felt certain she'd finally said something that got through to him.

  "Yes, I had family. And a few good friends. But they all believed me when I told them I was innocent. I don't need to clear my name with them. But I will admit, the night before the execution, I told the priest I would sell my soul to the devil just to find out who actually killed Ginger and framed me for it. The old guy was really pissed at me for saying that. But the truth is, if the real guilty party had been presented to me that night, I might have killed him with my bare hands. Then I would have been executed for committing two murders. So you see, nothing would change by my going back."

  He walked over to the window and looked out. "I think God heard my attempt at praying and, since He couldn't change the outcome, he decided to give me a second chance at life. Here. In the future."

  "I think you're forgetting one thing. The murderer could still be alive, even living right in the area. What do you think would happen if he learned that Jack Templeton was back from the dead?"

  "I could go to another town."

  "The murderer could be there. You have no way of knowing where he is. And since you don't know who he is, he could spot you first. The killer could be really old by now and you still look exactly the same as you did when he framed you for his crime. But your safety isn't the real issue here since, historically speaking, you're already dead. If you are who you say then your being here is a sort of miracle. You can't just ignore that. You have to do whatever it is you were given the second chance to do, which, in almost every time-travel story, includes setting things right. You have no choice."