Travis came around to Melissa’s side of the Jeep.

She lowered the window. Their faces were only inches apart. It was madness, but she ached for him to kiss her. If he ever got the urge, would he pretend she was his wife? She couldn’t bear the thought.

His eyes played over her features. “You made this evening more memorable for us than you know,” he said. She felt his warm breath on her mouth. Only a little closer … “How do I thank you?”

The blood pounded in her ears. “You’re already doing that by agreeing to track down the people making our family’s life miserable. It’s a miracle you’ve already unearthed so much. Who else but a Texas Ranger could do what you’ve done?”

He let out a sigh. Maybe he didn’t like remembering he had a job to do. “Speaking of your case, I was wondering if tomorrow you’d go hiking in the forest beyond the ridge with me. Since we’re going to a new area, I thought we’d take my truck. Bring a backpack with the things you’ll want.”

What Melissa wanted was right here, and she didn’t want to have to wait until tomorrow. “I’ll be ready.”

Dear Reader,

Have you ever been told you looked like someone else, or that someone else looked like you?

Did you like being compared?

Several times in life I’ve been told I looked like someone else, or acted like someone else, and I didn’t like it. I wanted to be ME. It gets into all the questions of comparisons, whether good or bad. Though we simply brush off these comments and go on, I think we all care to varying degrees.

In The Texas Ranger’s Reward, I thought about this problem and decided to magnify it to the point that it becomes one of the linchpins of the plot concerning the hero and heroine. Strongly resembling someone else can lead to all kinds of consequences. In my story it raises doubts, picks away at self-confidence, arouses anger, destroys trust. The more I wrote, the more fascinated I became to see the way it produced so many issues on so many levels. I hope as you read, you’ll find this element in my story fascinating, too. Most of all, I hope you’ll find the resolution satisfying.

Enjoy!

Rebecca Winters

About the Author

REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website, www.cleanromances.com.

The Texas Ranger’s Reward
Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my dear sister Kathie, who is kind enough to read my novels and always gets the essence of what I’m trying to say. Even better, we have long discussions that thrill my heart.

Chapter One

Melissa Dalton pulled her red-and-black Jeep Wrangler into the parking lot outside the entrance to the Lone Peak Children’s Physical Therapy Clinic with no time to spare before her first appointment at eight-thirty. She lived on Salt Lake City’s southeast bench, in the Sandy area, close to the Wasatch Mountains, and the new facility was only five minutes from her town-house condo.

How typical of her that even though she lived so close, she was still going to be late!

Waving to her friend Rosie, another therapist who’d just arrived, she hurried into the building and then her office, ready to go. As was her custom, she’d caught her shoulder-length hair at her nape so it wouldn’t get in the way while she worked with one of her patients.

Today she’d worn a floppy French clip bow in navy to match her short-sleeved navy-and-white print top, and designer jeans. She’d put pearl studs in her ears. Melissa believed in dressing up as much as possible so she wouldn’t look clinical. No lab coat for her. It made the kids nervous. Children who had to see her on a regular basis liked it when she came wearing something fashionable.

What she wore on her feet had to be comfortable for work, of course, but little girls often commented on her cute candy-apple-red flats. And her bangle bracelets, which came in gold, silver and jeweled tones. It was also important that she smelled good and kept her nails manicured. Children noticed everything. When she was looking her best, the sessions seemed brighter for the kids. Which made Melissa feel better about herself.

After the trauma leading up to her divorce six years ago, she’d gone through a period where she hadn’t paid attention to her clothes or hair. But once she’d gone into pediatric orthopedic physical therapy, the children asked so many personal questions that she’d begun to look at herself again and care about her appearance. It was her young patients who helped pull her out of her depression. She loved them and enjoyed working with them.

Susan, the receptionist, had put a new file on her desk. It was a pertinent history sent by a doctor. Melissa sat down in her swivel chair to read it.

Casey Stillman, Salt Lake, seven, broken left femur after fall from a horse July 27. Plated and screwed while in surgery. See X-rays. Successful. Anticipate complete recovery. Given crutches. Was home-schooled during recuperation period. As of Friday, September 7, father indicates son still clings to crutches and is anxious about bearing weight. Patient should be done with them. No physical reason for them now. Is afraid to go to school. Recommend therapy. Pain and muscle soreness expressed, but wonder if there’s a psychological issue.

Melissa glanced at the calendar. It was September 10. At more than five weeks following an accident, most children were pretty well back to normal, but others …

“TAKE AS LONG AS YOU NEED, bud. It’s okay.” Concerned by his lack of progress, Travis Stillman eyed his son, who was still dependant on his crutches. According to the doctor, Casey shouldn’t need them anymore, thus the referral to visit someone who could work with him.

Halfway from Travis’s blue Altima to the door of the clinic, Casey stopped. “My leg hurts.” He was close to tears.

“I know, but pretty soon it will go away.” Travis prayed that was true. Today was Monday, Casey’s twentieth day of missing school. Though he’d kept up with his lessons at home, who knew how long it would take before he was ready to rejoin his second-grade class?

Travis held the door as his son hobbled into the clinic. “I don’t want to go in there,” Casey wailed as they approached the front desk.

The receptionist smiled. “It won’t take long.” She indicated the therapist’s office—the first door down the hall on the right.

Travis didn’t dare offer to pick up his son and carry him. His boy was proud as blazes. Lately, Travis’s sister, Pat, had been reminding him that Casey was a chip off the old block. But since his fall, too much pride had turned Casey into a hermit.

He wouldn’t give up the crutches, and he didn’t want to play with his cousins, let alone the neighbors’ children. Forget going to school. Travis’s friend Mitch Garrett, one of the P.I.s who worked with him at the Lufka Private Investigator firm in Salt Lake, had brought over his newly adopted son, Zack, several times to play. But Casey was having none of it—he’d been too down since the accident.

They were almost to the office in question when someone called out, “Hi, Casey! Wow! Look at you handle those crutches!”

The cheerful-sounding female voice caused Travis to look up. He did a triple take when he saw a knockout woman with ash-brown hair standing outside the office door. She looked like a model.

She walked toward them and stopped in front of Casey, making Travis aware of her flowery fragrance. “My name’s Melissa. You look fine, but I want to hear what happened to your horse. Did it live?”

The question was so unexpected, Casey laughed. “Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sugar.”

“Isn’t that kind of a wuss name?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s this with you?” Her dancing eyes lifted to Travis. For some reason the mix of blue and gray was disturbing to him, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“My dad.”

“How do you do, Dad,” she teased. “Come with me, Casey, and let’s talk about how boring it’s been for you this past month.”

A bemused Travis followed them and received another surprise when instead of into her office, she took them to the next door down the hall. The room turned out to be a sunny space containing physical therapy equipment. What? No discussion first?

While Travis looked on, the therapist said to Casey, “I’ll take your crutches.”

“What if I fall down?”

“I’ll catch you.”

Travis watched as his son thought about it, then gave them up. The therapist promptly put them on the floor. “Okay. Let’s see you walk.”

“I—I can’t. My leg hurts.”

“Don’t you know that’s a good thing?”

He blinked. “It is?”

“Absolutely. The muscles want to move and it means you’re getting well. But if you’ll walk without the crutches, it will help you get better even faster. Don’t worry if it hurts. A little pain doesn’t matter. My first dog lost his hind leg when a car hit him. He had to learn to walk on three legs, without any crutches.”

“He did?”

“Yes, and it hurt to have to do that. But he was a trooper, and pretty soon all the pain went away. Have you ever had a dog?”

“Yes. We’ve got one now. He’s a Scottish terrier.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dexter.”

“Well, then … you need to take Dexter on lots of walks, but you can’t do that with those crutches. Let’s walk around the room together. If you think you’re going to fall, put out your hand.”

“Okay.”

Travis was astonished that his son would actually do as she asked. When he began taking one tentative step, then another, Travis was elated, but also experienced a feeling of resentment that this Melissa could get his son to perform so easily. The feeling grew when Casey reached for her only once in the journey around the big room. Casey was still favoring his left leg, but this was the most he’d walked without help since the operation!

Melissa picked up the crutches and fitted them back under his arms. “You walked perfectly. And even though it hurt, you’re still alive, right?”

Casey nodded with a smile, a reaction that shocked Travis.

“Come to my office and I’ll give you a prize for doing a brilliant job this morning.”

“What kind of prize?”

The way Casey was chatting with the woman, you’d have thought they were old friends. The change in Casey’s behavior was nothing short of amazing. Too amazing, Travis thought, before realizing he was being uncharitable. She’d been working wonders with his boy.

When they walked through the door, he thought they’d entered a children’s art museum. On one of the walls a large corkboard was covered in childlike drawings pinned up with colored tacks. Two other walls contained framed, stylized superheroes and animals painted in bright colors. He didn’t recognize any of them, which meant they were original—and totally riveting. Casey looked around in delight.

Along the wall by the door sat a big pirate treasure chest. When the therapist opened the lid, Travis saw it was chock-full of store-bought toys in their packaging. This was much better than getting a look inside Santa’s pack. Despite his conflicted feelings about Melissa, Travis couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her sensational figure as she started rummaging through the toys.

“Hmm, let me see …” Travis could tell Casey’s interest was piqued. In fact, he was getting impatient waiting for her to decide. “Ah. Here’s the one I was looking for.” She pulled out a package. “Hand me your crutches and I’ll let you open it.”

This time Casey hardly hesitated before he did her bidding. Travis could see that his son stood just fine without any support. She exchanged the crutches for the package. It took a minute for him to get it unwrapped.

“Look, Dad—a new leash for Dexter!” That was the biggest burst of happiness he’d heard from his son since before his fall. For the moment Casey had forgotten the pain in his leg.

“How about that, bud.” Travis had tried bribery on him, but without the same result. Those were some pricey items he could see in that pirate chest. The therapist seemed to be doing everything right. His perturbance made no sense at all.

“When you get home, you’ll have to take Dexter for a walk with it.” She picked up the empty carton and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Want to give it to your dad to hold?”

Travis took it from him. The retractable leash would handle their twenty-two-pound Scottie without a problem.

After she’d helped him with his crutches, she said, “You can go home now.”

Casey’s eyes rounded. “You mean I don’t have to get up on a table or anything?”

Her mouth curved into a big smile. “Nope. That’s because you’re all better. When you come back tomorrow morning, I’ll let you look through the chest and pick out your own prize—if you walk all the way in from the car without your crutches. I’ll be watching from the front door.”

“I … think I’ll be able to do it.” His son was pretty transparent.

“Great! In that case I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Casey grinned. “Thanks for the leash. Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Mine, too.” She flicked her floppy bow to show him. Travis noted her bracelets, and saw she wore no rings on either hand. “I like blueberry popsicles, as well.”

“So do I!” Casey actually laughed. “Are you really a doctor?”

“No, but don’t I look like one?”

“No,” Casey said. “You’re too pretty.”

Travis eyed his son in surprise.

“Well, thank you. I used to be a nurse. Then I trained to become an orthopedic therapist. That means I work with patients after their doctor has seen them.”

She finally glanced at Travis, just as he thought she’d forgotten him altogether. “We’ll see you and your son in the morning. I’ll put you down on my calendar for the same time, unless that’s a problem.”

“No. We’ll be here at eight-thirty. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, Casey.”

“See ya,” he called back.

Travis followed him out the door. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought Casey walked most of the way, and used his crutches only for show. When they reached the car, Travis helped him in the back and fastened the seat belt.

In another minute they were on their way home. Instead of complaining, Casey played with the leash. “That was fun! I can’t wait to get my prize tomorrow.”

“Remember what Melissa said?”

“Yeah. I gotta walk all the way from the car into the building and not use my crutches. I can do that.”

Travis smiled tightly and didn’t ask any more questions. For the rest of the drive he remained immersed in thought. There’d been no preliminary discussion, and she’d given Travis no follow-up instructions. Nothing! It had irritated the hell out of him.

Not until he pulled in the driveway did he discover what was wrong with him.

There was an old saying about every person on earth having a double. This morning that saying had particular meaning for him.

He’d just come face-to-face with a woman who resembled, in looks and personality, his murdered wife, Valerie.

Travis was convinced that was the reason Casey had undergone a miraculous change at the therapist’s hands. Although she was a younger version, Melissa Dalton had Valerie’s sunny disposition and a way of making challenging things sound like fun. Her appealing energy had captured his son’s attention, and he’d wanted her approval. But the very qualities about her that had caused the first therapy session to go so well haunted Travis.

He dreaded the thought of having to see her again in the morning. It had been fifteen months since he’d buried his wife in Texas. Melissa had unwittingly brought certain memories back to life. Casey’s willingness to do what she wanted might have been unconscious, but his son had definitely responded because of deeply embedded memories, too.

It was going to be a long day and an even longer night, because Travis knew there’d be little sleep for him.

MELISSA LEFT FOR WORK on Tuesday morning curious to see if the skinny, brown-haired Stillman boy would let go of his crutches for good. She knew there was nothing wrong with him physically.

Probably never in her life had she seen such a handsome face or such sky-blue eyes. People would marvel over his remarkable features as he grew into manhood. Especially women. You needed to look no further than the boy’s father.

But on the adult version—the man appeared to be mid-thirties—there were differences. She’d seen the lines left by life and grief around his eyes and mouth, the shadow of a dark beard on his square jaw. The artist in her had caught the fierce gaze of arctic-blue eyes, distant and speculative. Almost forbidding. She shivered at the memory.

In the midst of her thoughts, she heard her cell ring. She reached for it and checked the caller ID. “Hi, Tom.”

“Hey, how was your Labor Day weekend?”

“Semiproductive.”

Unfortunately, she’d found herself looking over her shoulder quite a bit while doing her artwork. She’d been at the family cabin on her own, not for the first time this summer. Neither her parents, nor either of her two married siblings had used the place in August, yet increasingly she’d had a vague sense that someone other than herself had been there. Though she’d seen no signs of forced entry, there were little indications, such as books and lamps in places she didn’t remember them being, the bedding not made up the normal way, and signs of dirty footprints on the floor by the back door. It made her nervous at night, so she’d turned on the generator, hoping the resulting sound and lights would ward off intruders.

If she’d still had her bulldog, Spike, Melissa wouldn’t have felt so nervous. But soon after her divorce, her beloved pet had died of old age. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to get a new one. She couldn’t give an animal the time it deserved.

“Same here,” Tom said, jolting her back to the present. “I’m afraid my children didn’t leave me any time to write.” That meant he’d had visitation through the long weekend. “I’m glad you’re back. Let’s meet for dinner at Rinaldo’s in Bell Canyon Plaza after work.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I promised the folks I’d spend the evening with them.” Melissa needed to talk to her parents about the problem at the cabin. After their whole family had gotten together there for a Fourth of July celebration, her parents had gone to Laguna Beach, California, for two weeks on their own. “How about lunch there on Thursday?” She would have finished her renderings by then. “I’ll bring everything you’ve been waiting for.”

“Not till Thursday? I guess I can wait. What time?”

“One o’clock?” It would be right after the Denton baby’s appointment. She had torticollis, a condition that curtailed her range of neck motion. Mrs. Denton fell apart emotionally every time she brought the baby for therapy. Melissa would need a break following the session.

“Okay, see you then. I’m looking forward to it.”

Melissa hung up, unable to say the same thing back to him. Tom Hunt was a prominent patent attorney specializing in intellectual properties. He was also a talented writer of children’s fiction. They’d met in March when he’d brought his son in for therapy because of knee pain. The eleven-year-old had Osgood-Schlatter disease, fortunately not too serious a case.

During the treatments, Tom had admired the paintings hanging in her office. When he’d learned she was the artist, he’d asked her if she’d be willing to do some sketches for a story he’d been working on. It was set during World War II, between two childhood friends whose countries were fighting on opposing sides. The subject appealed to her and she’d said yes. She’d started working closely with Tom, but despite his obvious interest, she had no desire for any sort of romantic relationship with him.

She knew he wanted to get married again, but in truth, the thought of marrying again herself filled her with dread.

Melissa had been young and in love when she’d married exciting, handsome Russell Dalton. But her dreams of living happily ever after were shattered when she realized she’d married an abuser.

Their seven-month marriage had come to an abrupt end the day he got home from his last college class. She was studying for finals at the kitchen table when he walked in, wanting to make love. Melissa had told him she needed to keep on studying, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d jerked her out of the chair like a rag doll.

Shocked, she’d tried to push him away, and he’d responded by slapping her in the face so hard she fell to the floor. That blow had changed her life.

Though he was remorseful and swore it would never happen again, she’d grabbed her keys and run from the apartment and their life together. Divorce had followed.

Intellectually, she knew there were good men out in the universe who would make fine husbands. Over the past six years she’d dated quite a few of them. But the thought of taking the critical step into another marriage left her apprehensive.

To make her feelings clear to Tom, she never went out with him in the evening, or worked with him when his two children were on visitation. She shied away from any attachments. It wasn’t fair to his kids, when there could be no future. He should have gotten the point long before now.

Since her divorce, Melissa had reached a restful place where she was in control. She wanted to stay there. When Tom’s book was finished to his specifications, she’d decided, it would be the only project she’d do with him. After that, there wouldn’t be a reason to get together again, and they could part with no hard feelings.

After parking in her usual spot, she headed for the clinic doors. She was almost there when she heard her name being called. Melissa turned to see Casey Stillman walking carefully away from a blue car toward her. He was dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt. His father followed, carrying the crutches.

She felt a burst of pleasure at the boy’s taking up the challenge. When Casey was about halfway to her, he hesitated. “Keep coming, Casey!” she called. “You’re doing great!”

The boy got a determined look on his face and picked up his speed. Once he reached her, she gave him a quick hug. “I’m very proud of you.”

He looked up at her and smiled. Children smiled at her every day, but for some reason she didn’t understand, Casey’s expression tugged at her emotions. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“That’s because you’re so tough!” She let go of his shoulders. “Come into my office. You’ve earned a gift of your choice. Do you need your crutches to get inside?”

Casey stared at her. “Will you hold my hand?”

“Of course.” She took his hand and they walked through the main doors to her suite. She made sure they didn’t go too fast. He was still favoring his leg, but not nearly as much as the day before.

Melissa walked him over to the treasure chest and opened it. “Take all the time you want picking out your prize. If you get tired, here’s a little stool to sit on while you look.”

He propped himself on the edge of the chest and started going through the presents. While he was occupied, she moved to her desk across the room and sat behind it. Casey’s hard-muscled father, in jeans and a dark green sport shirt, took a chair opposite her and placed the crutches on the floor next to him.

“Mr. Stillman,” she began quietly, “the doctor suggested your son’s problem was psychological, so that’s why I threw him in at the deep end of the pool yesterday. It’s clear his leg has healed and he’s able to walk just fine. Do you know any reason why his problem may have been so easily resolved? I don’t. I know I’m close to being the perfect therapist, but an overnight recovery is astonishing.”

The man’s lips quirked at her joke, but she got the impression there was something about her he didn’t like. She saw it in his wintry eyes. An odd chill went through her.

“I’ve discovered there’s a very good reason,” he answered, in a low voice so deep it resonated through her body. “But I would prefer to tell you out of his hearing.” Casey’s dad looked at her with such solemnity she took a quick breath.

“Understood. Since I’d like one more session with him, tomorrow morning, could you call me this afternoon? Say, around one? That’s when I take my lunch break, and we can talk.”

“I’ll see that Casey is otherwise occupied, then phone you.”

“Melissa?” his son called. “Can I have this Captain America toy?”

“Sure. It’s one of my favorites. The gizmo shoots little disks.”

“Awesome!”

“Did you know there’s something else I’d like you to do for me?”

“What?”

“Just use one crutch on your way out to your father’s car. Think you can do that?”

“Yes,” he said. But he was so absorbed with his new toy she doubted he’d really listened. In a few long strides, his dad, carrying both crutches, reached Casey. He fitted one under his son’s arm, then took the gift from him.

Melissa stood up. “I have one more favor to ask you, Casey.” He finally lifted his head. “Will you come to my office tomorrow without your crutches? Just leave them at home. If you do that, I’ve got another surprise for you.”

“Is it in the pirate chest?”

“I had something else in mind, but if there’s another toy you’d like in there, that’s fine.”

She could almost hear his brain working. “Will I like it a lot?”

Kids. She loved them.

“I can guarantee it.”

His eyes lit up. “Okay.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Casey.”

“Can you thank her for being so generous?” his father prodded.

“Thanks, Melissa.”

“You’re welcome.” She closed the door behind them to get ready for her next patient.

The morning seemed to pass much slower than usual. Melissa knew why. She was waiting for lunch, when Casey’s father was supposed to phone. Not once in three years had she been given a case where it was over almost before it had begun. Mr. Stillman had indicated he knew the reason for his son’s capitulation. She was eager for him to share it with her.

After her last appointment, she took a bottle of juice from her mini fridge and drank it while she typed the last patient’s follow-up notes into the computer. At five after one, the receptionist told her she was wanted on line three. She picked up the receiver.

“Melissa Dalton speaking.”

“This is Travis Stillman.”

“Thanks for calling me, Mr. Stillman. Where is Casey right now?”

“In the kitchen eating lunch with the housekeeper. He’s using her and Dexter to retrieve those disks.”

She laughed softly. “From what I saw this morning, he should be picking them up himself. In my professional opinion he has healed beautifully. So why did he cling to the crutches until you brought him to the clinic?”

“Let me give you a bit of background first. Until fifteen months ago, I was a Texas Ranger living with my wife and son in Fort Davis, Texas.”

A Texas Ranger. In Melissa’s mind, Texas Rangers were legendary, and he fitted her image of one exactly.

“On my last case,” he went on, “I went after a gang in a brutal racial slaying. I caught up with two of them, but a third one eluded me. They were known as the McClusky brothers. Soon after their capture, the third brother, Danny McClusky, murdered my wife in cold blood while she was driving home from the grocery store. It was a revenge killing. Thankfully, Casey was still at school.”

His revelation stopped her cold. “I—I can’t imagine anything so horrifying,” she stammered. “Is that killer still free?”

“Yes. He’s on the FBI’s most wanted list. They’ll get him in time.”

“How do you live with that?”

“Not so well. Two other times during my career, my wife and son were threatened. After I buried her, I decided enough was enough, and resigned from the Texas Rangers. Casey needs me too much.”

“He’s so lucky you’re still alive!” she said, before she realized how emotional she sounded. She knew what it felt like to be threatened. She’d gotten out of her marriage because of it. For both his and Casey’s sakes, she was glad Mr. Stillman had moved to Utah, away from danger.

“I have a sister,” he said, “who lives in Lone Peak Estates here in Sandy, with her husband and their two kids. Since the area’s zoned for horses, she encouraged us to move across the street from her so we could ride their horses when we wanted. After the loss of his mother, I wanted Casey to have family close by.”

“Of course,” Melissa murmured, still shocked by the tragic story. For a child to lose his mother like that was utterly heartbreaking.

“He’s had a hard time,” Mr. Stillman continued, “but we were doing better until he fell off his horse and broke his leg. It happened soon after Pioneer Day, on the twenty-fourth of July. Having the surgery frightened him and set him back emotionally. He’s been crying for his mother at night.”

“That’s only natural. Who wouldn’t? In hellish times the child in everyone cries for his or her mother.”

Melissa had wanted to cry in her mom’s arms in the months before she’d run from Russ, wanting her to make everything all right. But she’d felt too ashamed to tell her parents anything. They’d advised her to wait another year before she got married, just to be sure. But oh, no. She knew what she was doing. What a fool.

She hadn’t confided in her parents until after she’d left Russ.

Poor Casey hadn’t had his mother when he’d fallen.

“When you greeted him outside your office yesterday morning, it was like something magical happened—he responded to you without even thinking about it. I was bewildered by his reaction until we got home. That’s when I realized there’s something about you that reminds him of his mother—the way you talk, your enthusiasm, even your physical appearance. You have a vitality like hers. Put all that together and you could be her double.”

“Really?”

“Yes. At this point I believe he’d do anything for you. He proved that today.”

Mr. Stillman had just given her a plausible answer for Casey’s quick turnaround, but his own reaction was far more complicated. Melissa jumped up from her chair, suddenly putting two and two together. Whether he’d had a good, mediocre or bad marriage, seeing someone who reminded him so strongly of his wife must have come as a shock to him.

She’d known something was wrong. For some reason it made her feel strange. She didn’t want to look like anyone else, especially his murdered wife. Apparently he didn’t like it, either.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said. “Considering his progress, tomorrow should be the last time he needs to come in.” Working with children had made her careful not to allow attachments to form. “I’ll send you home with a sheet showing a few exercises he can do. If you make a game of it and do them with him, he won’t know you’re trying to help strengthen those muscles. Keep in mind he doesn’t have to do the exercises. Natural play will eventually work out any kinks, but it’s something you can do together as father and son to speed things up. Do you have any questions for me?”

“None.”

He seemed anxious to get off the phone. “Then I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll deal with the issue of his not wanting to go to school then.”

Melissa hung up. She had no desire to prolong their conversation either. It would have been agony for Travis Stillman to have to discuss the tragedy with her. Heaven knows it was hard enough to hear about it. Any trauma that directly affected a child pained her. But murder … The poor boy. The poor father. He’d been forced to give up his life’s work and move to a new state. None of that could have been easy.

She was glad she had a busy schedule that afternoon. It would get her mind off what she’d learned.

At four o’clock she left the clinic for her parents’ home in Federal Heights, an area in the northeast region of the city near the University of Utah. Five generations of Robertses, all of whom had run the Wasatch Front Steel Corporation, had lived there. Melissa had grown up surrounded by tall, gorgeous old trees and a lush yard. Her town house, where the trees had been newly planted and there was no heavy foliage, was a big change.

While she ate dinner with her parents, she told them about the cabin. Her father rubbed his chin. “That’s the trouble with such remote places, honey. After every winter, our neighbors up there complain of the same thing. Somebody’s broken in and things are stolen.”

She shook her head “Winter is one thing, Dad, but for intruders to be that brazen in summer is really upsetting. I didn’t see anything missing, but I know someone has been in there since July 24.”

“Let’s just be thankful you didn’t surprise them when you walked in,” her mother said. “I’ve never liked you going up there alone. This settles it. Please don’t use the cabin again unless you have a friend or family member with you.”

“Mom—”

“I don’t care if you’re a grown woman, Melissa. It’s not safe.”

“Your mother’s right, honey. What about Tom?”

“He’s a man I’ve done some artwork for, but that’s all. I’ve never been interested in him. When the book’s done, I won’t be doing any more projects with him. Real-life paintings aren’t the kind of thing I like to do.”

Her dad glanced at her with affection. “I know. You love your world of fantasy.”

“I always have.” She put down her fork. “Fall is when I like to be up at the cabin every weekend. The atmosphere inspires me. My week’s vacation starts next Tuesday. I planned to live up there the whole time, so I can hike and paint nonstop.”

“If you’re determined to go alone,” her father said, “then you need to buy a gun and learn how to shoot it.”

Her mother gasped. “William!”

“Well, it’s either that or take a boyfriend along.” Her parents despaired of her ever settling down again, and brought up the subject at every opportunity.

“I don’t have one. What if we hired a retired policeman to be at the cabin when I go up? I’d help pay him.”

Her father eyed her in frustration. “I guess anything’s possible, but tell you what, honey. Some time tomorrow I’ll call the police in the Kamas area and ask them to send someone over to the cabin and take a look.”

“I don’t see any signs of a break-in, so I don’t think that will do any good.”

“You have a point. Let me think about it. I don’t like this any more than you do.”

Her mother leaned forward. “I’ll go up with you for a couple of nights, and I’m sure John and Linda will, too. In the meantime, why don’t you ask Rosie from your work?”

“She’s involved with a guy, Mom.”

Besides, the problem with taking girl friends up there was that they needed to be entertained. At night they wanted to drive down to Kamas for a little fun, and to meet the local male talent. Melissa had done that years ago. It was how she’d met her husband. She had no desire for lightning to strike her twice in the same place.

Chapter Two

Travis was awake Wednesday morning long before it was time to take Casey to the clinic. His boss, Roman Lufka, owner of the Lufka Private Investigator firm, had intended to assign him a new case on Monday, but because Travis’s son refused to go to school, the timing was wrong.

Roman was the greatest, and told him to take as long as he needed to work with Casey, but Travis was getting anxious. It was one thing for his son to convince the therapist that he could manage without his crutches in order to receive a prize, and quite another to agree to go back to school without them.

Travis heard his cell phone ringing when he came out of the shower. Hitching a towel around his hips, he hurried into the bedroom and reached for it. Maybe the therapist was calling because a scheduling problem had come up.

Last night, without knowing what he knew, his housekeeper, Deana White, had whispered to him that Casey seemed to have developed a crush on the therapist and couldn’t wait until morning. Travis didn’t want to think about the damage a cancelation could do at such a pivotal point in Casey’s recovery.

Relief swept through him when he looked at the caller ID before picking up. “Hey, Chaz, it’s good to hear your voice.” Chaz Roylance was another great friend he’d made at the firm.

“Do you and Casey want to meet up for breakfast? I’ll bring Abby.” All the guys were trying to help Travis get through this rough period with his son.

“There’s nothing I’d like better, but we’re due at his therapist’s in twenty minutes.”

“How’s it going?”

Travis sucked in his breath. “She challenged him to come without his crutches. Wants him to leave them at home. If he takes her up on it, I think we’re halfway there.”

“Only halfway?”

“The other half is getting him to go back to school.”

“I hear you. As you know, our Abby is still having meltdowns over bees.”

“The poor little tyke.”

“When she sees one, it’s the end of the world. Frankly, I’m glad cooler weather is on the way. Unless I can promise that bees won’t be around, she refuses to do certain things, even for her mother.”

For her mother.

In that arena, Travis had the edge on Chaz, because the therapist seemed to have the power to get his son to do anything. Travis ought to be grateful to her. Hell, he was grateful, but nothing seemed to alleviate his tortured thoughts since he’d met her.

“Thanks for the invite,” he said to Chaz. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He hung up and went back to the bathroom to shave. After putting on a crew-neck and dark trousers, he walked through the house to find his son in the kitchen eating breakfast. He’d dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Travis didn’t know if Deana had helped him or not.

And so far Casey hadn’t gotten bored with Captain America.

“Good morning.” The housekeeper, who’d raised three children of her own, put a plate of sausages and pancakes in front of him.

“Thanks, Deana.”

Travis didn’t have much appetite, but he ate what she’d served him, to be polite. His sister, Pat, had helped him find Deana. She’d been coming once a week to clean, and the rest of the time she picked up Casey from school and got dinner ready. Since he’d broken his leg, however, Deana had been putting in long hours, and Casey liked her.

Lately he hadn’t been interested in food, and today he’d left half his breakfast on his plate, Travis noted in concern. “Hey, bud, it’s time to go to the clinic. Put the toy down, okay?”

“Okay. What do you think she’s going to give me this morning?”

He studied his son. “Are you going to leave your crutches here?”

Casey had laid them on the floor by his chair. “Yup.”

“Then let’s get going and find out. Do you need me to hold your hand?”

“I don’t think so.”

Deana sent Travis a private smile. What she didn’t know was that although this was progress, the difficult part—school—was still to come. But he’d wait until they were in the therapist’s office to bring the subject up.

Dexter followed them to the garage, and Casey gave him a hug. If people didn’t look too closely, they might never know Casey had gone through his ordeal, Travis decided. Though his son took a little more time, he walked with a steady gait. Like any child, he loved getting neat things, but Travis feared that another gift wasn’t all that was motivating him.

“There she is!” Casey spotted Melissa as they drove into the clinic parking lot five minutes later. There weren’t many cars this early. When Casey climbed out she started waving. This time Travis didn’t see any hesitancy on his son’s part as he closed the distance between them.

Travis brought up the rear, surreptitiously studying Melissa Dalton. This morning she was turned out in a pair of latte-colored trousers with a dark brown waistband. With the fitted melon-colored blouse, it was hard to look anywhere else.

Her eyes appraised Casey. “Well, look at you. Good as new!” The boy beamed up at her. “I like a guy who makes a promise and keeps it. Where are those old crutches?”

“At home. I turned them into weapons.” Travis blinked when Casey unexpectedly pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “See?”

“Hmm. What have we got here?” He giggled while she opened the paper with great ceremony. “Whoa, I certainly do see. How clever of you to make them into laser guns! Is that an interplanetary rocket they fit on?”

“Yeah.”

She pressed it to her heart. “Can I have this and put it up on the corkboard for the other children to see?”

He nodded.

“When we get inside, you have to autograph it.”

“Auto—?”

“Autograph’s a fancy word for your name.”

“Okay. I can print it.”

“I didn’t doubt it for a second. Come with me.”

Once the three of them reached her office, Melissa walked around the desk and opened the top drawer. “Here’s a good pen, Casey. Take the drawing over to the table by the books. After you print your name, you can put up your picture using those tacks on the board.”

“Where shall I print it?”

“Anyplace you like. Make sure it’s big so everyone can see it.”

Casey got down on his knees to get to work. That’s when Travis knew his son was no longer thinking about his leg. He chuckled as Casey’s tongue rubbed against his lower lip while he carried out her suggestion.

“Here,” she said when he was done, “I’ll make a little more room for it.” While she helped Casey mount the drawing, Travis returned the felt-tipped pen to her desk, then wandered over to see the finished product. But he found himself looking at the skein of lustrous hair caught at the nape of her neck with a coral flower clip. This morning she wore gold studs in her earlobes. Her fashion sense held strong appeal for him. Almost as much as her gorgeous body did.

“I love it!” she declared, drawing Travis’s attention back to the drawing. His son had put his name coming out of the tip of the rocket, with each letter getting a little bigger. “I especially like the way you make your y with the curlicue on the tail.”

Casey smiled again. Every time she opened her mouth, she built his son’s confidence, Travis realized.

“This calls for a celebration.” She walked back to her desk and reached in the drawer for a small envelope. Handing it to Casey, she said, “Inside this are three passes for your dad to take you and a close friend to a fun movie. And I have one more thing for you. It’s in the clinic kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

Travis felt the gift giving had gone on long enough, and would have told her so, but she left the office too fast. He sat down with Casey. “That was certainly nice of her. Be sure to thank her for those passes when she comes back in.”

“I will,” he answered, sounding preoccupied. Travis didn’t know how Casey felt about his latest present, but was glad he didn’t say he’d have preferred a toy. “Hey, Dad, look at the picture of the huge bulldog! I wish I could take that one home.”

Travis automatically complied, glancing toward the fabulous collection as he shook his head.

“Sorry, bud. That one stays on the wall.” If he had a dollar for every time his son wished for something …

Pretty soon Melissa came back with a bakery carton of iced cupcakes decorated in autumn colors, and put it on the table with some napkins.

“I noticed on your medical chart that you had a birthday a couple of weeks ago,” she said, “but since you weren’t in school, you didn’t have a chance to celebrate. Every kid celebrates birthdays at school. Today would be the perfect day to take these to class. The other kids will love a treat. There’s enough in the box for the three of us to have one before your dad drives you to school. Your teacher’s waiting for you.”

Casey looked as dumbfounded as Travis felt. “She is?”

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone go to school on Wednesdays?” Casey nodded. “She’s looking for one Mr. Casey Stillman to show up. Did you meet her at a parent-teacher conference before school started?”

“No. I couldn’t walk.”

“Well, you can now! Here—try one.” She opened the lid. “You pick the color you want.”

At first Casey couldn’t decide. Travis reached for a yellow one and ate it in two bites, his eyes meeting Melissa’s in amusement before she bit into hers. Finally Casey made his choice and devoured it quickly. She handed him a napkin, so he could wipe the frosting off his face. “If you’re thirsty, there’s a drinking fountain across the hall,” she said.

“Okay.” He slid off the chair and left her office.

Travis got to his feet, hardly knowing where to start thanking her for all she’d done. But before he could get a word out she said, “Quick—find your son and go. I’ll follow you to the front doors.” She picked up the cupcake carton and they left her office, gathering Casey along the way.

“I wish you could have stayed longer,” she explained to him, “but I’ve got another patient waiting for me. Have fun at school.” She handed the cupcakes to Travis. “Bye, Casey.”

“Bye.”

Her brilliant strategy had left his son confused. She’d been right; now was the time to act. Travis walked beside him to the car and they took off for his school, not giving him the luxury of thinking about what had just happened.

“Dad? I want Melissa to go to the movie with us.”

Oh, no. He should’ve known! “She meant you should take one of your friends, Casey. I was thinking Blaine.” He was a boy Casey often played with, who lived down the street from them.

“I don’t want to go with him. She’s more fun!”

She was definitely that. And maybe too clever? Travis wanted to believe the therapist had no ulterior motive when she’d handed him those passes, but he couldn’t be sure. If she was interested in him, then this wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to get his attention through his child.

Since moving to Utah, he’d met attractive women who’d come on to him, but he’d felt no answering spark and couldn’t pretend otherwise. After one date, he couldn’t bring himself to repeat the experience.

“We don’t have to worry about it now. The passes are good for six months.”

“But I want to see Spider-Man with her this week before the movie’s gone!”

“We’ll have to talk about it later.” Relieved that the school was in sight, he pulled into the parking lot.

Because Travis had talked with Casey’s teacher several times already, she handled the interruption to her morning class like the pro she was. The kids were delighted to get treats, and enough fuss was made of Casey that Travis could slip out before his son could decide he didn’t want to stay.

Travis would never have thought of using his son’s birthday as a way to get him back to class. But Melissa’s tactic was the kind of thing Valerie might have done, and it had worked. He drove straight to the P.I. firm on Wasatch Boulevard, feeling as if he’d just survived a blizzard before reaching the top of Everest.

En route, he rang Deana and told her Casey was back in class, hopefully for the whole day. Travis planned to pick him up, but he would appreciate her staying until they got home, in case something went wrong before the school day was over.

Because of the therapist’s clever handling of his son, life looked as if it might be getting back to normal. He was indebted to Melissa and her unorthodox methods. At the same time, he felt conflicted. He knew it wasn’t her fault she reminded him of Valerie. And therein lay the problem. She wasn’t his deceased wife. That woman was gone. More than ever he didn’t want to be around her stand-in.

With a groan of frustration, he pressed on the accelerator, anxious to get to his office. What he needed was to dig into a new case, something that kept him physically active so he wouldn’t have time to think. Roman had told him that a half-dozen cases he’d probably like were waiting for him. He could choose the one that appealed to him most.

As for Casey, he would have to go to the movie with his father and his eleven-year-old cousin, Jack. Or maybe just the two of them would go. He’d given in to his son’s wishes long enough.

ON THURSDAY Melissa rushed inside Rinaldo’s at the lunch hour. The place was crowded, but Tom had grabbed a booth and was waiting for her. She walked over and sat down opposite him.

“Sorry I’m late, but my last appointment lasted longer than I’d planned.”

“Don’t worry about it. I took the liberty of ordering our lunch, since I know you have to get back to work soon.”

“I do. Thanks for going ahead. You’ll be glad to know I’ve finished my part of our project.” Melissa handed Tom the portfolio containing the artwork she’d done in watercolor for his book.

After the waitress brought their food, she ate while he looked through it. “These are perfect, Melissa.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased. Go ahead and take it to your office to scan everything before you send it off to your publisher.”

“I want to do more than that,” he said, with a look of longing in his eyes. “I’ve got ideas for a whole series of books based on World War II. Take a peek.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a proposal he’d put together. “We make a great team.”

No. Not in the way he meant. It was code for he wanted to marry her. This had to end now.

“Tom, I’m flattered that you want me to collaborate on your terrific stories, but I’m not interested in doing more of this kind of work.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re serious. You’re a wonderful artist.”

She’d been afraid of this, but it had to be said. “Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity, but I have my reasons.”

“What are they?”

“Well, I’ve discovered that my work as a therapist keeps me so busy, I don’t like the outside stress of deadlines. I’ve always painted for pleasure and don’t want that to change now.”

“Surely you realize a lot of money could be involved here—” The mention of money couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice.

“I’m not after money,” she stated quickly.

“Then it’s me you don’t like.”

“Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have worked with you on this.”

He seemed to hesitate before he said, “Don’t you realize how I feel about you?”

“Oh, Tom. Since my divorce I’ve been focused on my work. You’re in a different place than I am. I love my freedom and don’t want that to change.” She hated it that he’d gotten emotionally attached without any encouragement from her. For him to have built a romantic fantasy about them was ludicrous. In Melissa’s opinion he ought to go back to his wife, but she would never say that. All she could do was be firm.

When he didn’t respond she added, “You’re the writer and can attract other artists much more talented than I am. I don’t doubt that in time you’ll meet that special someone.”

“Wait,” he said, as she put a twenty-dollar bill on the table and got to her feet.

“I can’t. I have to get back to the clinic. Let this lunch be on me. Naturally, I’ll be available for anything else I have to do before the book goes to publication.”

On that note she turned and worked her way through the lunch crowd, doubly thankful she’d never been anything but professional with Tom. He certainly couldn’t accuse her of leading him on.

In truth, she’d been distracted by something else since she’d awakened that morning. For some reason she’d expected a phone call from Mr. Stillman, telling her Casey was back to not wanting to go to school. But then she did a rethink. If the little boy pulled another stunt, his dad would most likely go through another avenue to get help, and she would never know how things worked out for him.

For the rest of the afternoon she stayed busy, then left for the gym. A good workout was what she needed; it always helped relieve tension. But when she got home, she still felt at loose ends. She wanted to blame it on the unhappy moments at the restaurant earlier with Tom.

She should have been able to see his real intentions when he’d asked her to collaborate with him. But she didn’t blame him. He was only doing what a divorced man would do to move on, and she must have seemed like a perfect start.

Casey’s widowed father, on the other hand, wasn’t looking. Any woman who hoped to draw the former Texas Ranger’s attention was delusional.

In the end, Melissa climbed into bed with a portfolio of some of her old paintings. For years she’d been working on characters that one day might be the inspiration for children’s cartoons for the screen. She worked with acrylics, and little by little she felt she was improving. But she hadn’t yet achieved something she considered good enough to send to an agent who would approach a film studio for her.

After studying some of her paintings, she set the portfolio aside and began a new sketch.

The next thing she knew, it was morning. When she rolled out of bed, her right foot landed on the sketch pad, which had fallen to the floor at some point in the night. She picked it up and was shocked to discover a familiar face looking back at her.

Casey Stillman. Somehow he had worked his way onto the paper. An older Casey—maybe thirteen—astride an animal with three horns coming through a prehistoric-looking forest. Over his strong body he wore skins, and a thong around his forehead. One hand clutched a spear. His leg carried a jagged scar from thigh to ankle. A teen superhero …

Pleased with the drawing, she sat on the mattress and added a few more touches. Finally satisfied, she removed the sketch from the pad and slid it under the bed. Later she’d take it to an art store and have it framed. After taking her pad and portfolio to the other bedroom, which she’d set up as a studio, she showered and dressed for work.

Since she would never see Casey again, she was glad she had a memento of him. That little boy must have really gotten to her, showing up in her art as he had.

But as she drove to the clinic a half hour later, she realized she needed to get her mind on other things. Tomorrow being Saturday, she would get up early and drive to the cabin.

Remembering the talk with her parents, she made a mental note to phone her brother, John, and ask him to bring Nedra and the kids for an overnighter. If they couldn’t come, she’d call her sister, Linda. Maybe she and Brent would bring their children. Surely one of her siblings would be able to join her. But if no one could make it, Melissa decided, she’d stay till dark before leaving for home, and return on Sunday morning.

It angered her that strangers trespassed with no conscience and made themselves comfortable in a cabin that didn’t belong to them. She’d felt violated. And then there was the fact that she’d seen no sign of a break-in. That disturbed her a lot. Someone had a key, or a way to get in, and could walk in on her at any time. She supposed the first thing she could do when she got up there was hunt for John’s old baseball bat and keep it with her so she wouldn’t feel completely helpless.

Kamas was only thirty miles east of Sandy. They had to drive another two miles on dirt roads to reach their property. The log cabin, built in 1935, was at a higher elevation and somewhat isolated from other cabins in the forest. She could see it made a perfect target for lowlifes—her father’s term for people who made themselves at home on someone else’s land.

If she found more signs of trespassers using their cabin, she’d tell her parents she was calling the police, and she’d meet them there herself. Something had to be done. The cabin had always been her retreat. It was important.

As soon as she reached the clinic, she made phone calls to her siblings. No one was free this weekend, though John told her he’d get back to her if anything changed. She thanked him, but didn’t count on it. So she wouldn’t be able to go up to the cabin. Melissa was deflated by that prospect, but knew there was nothing else to do but accept it and immerse herself in work.

Fridays usually turned out to be the busiest day of the week. That was a good thing. She’d barely said goodbye to her first patient when the receptionist told her she had a call on line four. Maybe it was John. She picked up and almost said his name, but caught herself in time. “Melissa Dalton.”

“Ms. Dalton?” Her pulse picked up speed when she recognized that baritone voice. “This is Travis Stillman.”

“Good morning. How’s Casey doing?”

“He’s the reason I’m calling.” Uh-oh. “Would you happen to be free after work today?”

What?

“Casey wants you to go to the movie with us.”

“I take it he’s weaned himself from the crutches.”

“He has, all because of you. He wants to thank you for the birthday treats. I told him you were a very busy lady, but he asked me to try and arrange it. Hopefully it won’t interfere with your plans for the evening.”

“No, it’s a perfect time for me.”

“You’re through at four-thirty?”

“Yes. I’ll meet you at the theater if you’ll tell me which one.”

“In the Bell Canyon Plaza. It’s the latest Spider-Man. There’s a showing at four forty-five.”

“I’ll be there.”

“We’ll meet you outside the box office to give you your ticket.”

“Sounds good. Tell Casey thanks for sharing his gift. I’ll see you both later.”

“Until then.”

She hung up, but when she thought about the invitation, her excitement quickly subsided. This had been Casey’s doing, not his father’s. And just as Melissa had avoided meeting Tom in the evenings, Travis Stillman had arranged this outing during the day.

No mention of picking her up beforehand or eating dinner afterward. He’d even gone so far as to say he didn’t want to interfere with her evening plans. That didn’t surprise her. The last thing he’d be looking for—if he were looking—would be a woman who reminded him of his wife.

Where Casey was concerned, she had to remember that children could be manipulative. He liked getting presents and it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he was hoping to wangle one more out of her. That was why she would show up empty-handed.

Melissa worked through until four-twenty, then left for the movie theater. The minute she climbed out of her Jeep, she heard her name being called. And there was Casey, running up to her. No one would know he’d ever had a broken leg.

His father, striking in a black polo and khakis, stood back with his hands on his hips. She noticed he’d drawn the attention of several women, not just her.

Casey broke into a smile. “That’s an awesome Jeep.”

“Thanks. I love it.”

“I wish I could ride in it sometime.”

“Maybe you can. It’s up to your father. How’s school?” She started walking toward his dad. Casey kept up with her.

“Pretty good. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for asking me to come to the movie. After being at work all day, this is a treat.” She lifted her gaze to find a pair of midnight-blue eyes staring down at her. They weren’t quite as frosty this afternoon, thank goodness. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stillman.”

“Casey and I are pleased you could come. We’d better go in. The previews have probably started.”

He held the main door open for them, and they passed through the lobby to the theater itself. She was careful not to brush against him, but even without touching, she was aware of him. The place wasn’t crowded yet, though the previews were on. Casey took the lead and walked down the aisle to an empty row. “Can we sit here?”

“I was just going to pick it,” his father said.

Melissa moved ahead so Casey would be sitting between them.

“I’ll get us some popcorn and be right back,” Travis murmured.

“Thanks, Dad.” When he’d gone, Casey turned his head to look at her. “Do you like Spider-Man?”

“I think he’s amazing the way he swings around on his web, looking for bad guys.”

“Except he’s not real. But my dad is.”

“What do you mean?”

“He looks for bad guys.”

Melissa didn’t know what to say to that, for fear she’d bring up something painful. His father might have moved to Utah, but he’d never give up the search for the criminal who’d killed his wife. “You mean a long time ago.”

“No, now. He’s a P.I. You know—he looks for people doing bad things.”

She blinked. Travis Stillman was a private investigator? “Here in Salt Lake?”

“Yup. At Lufka’s.”

Lufka’s? She’d seen that name written somewhere, but not in Casey’s patient file. “I didn’t know that.”

Just as the main feature started, his father returned with a tub of popcorn and passed it down. Throughout the film she munched on it, but her mind wasn’t on the film. While Casey sat there totally absorbed, she was thinking about what he’d told her. Until people got up to leave, she didn’t even realize the movie was over.

“I wish we could watch it again,” Casey said to his dad.

“I know, but we can’t. We’re due at your aunt Pat’s for dinner. Let’s go.”

Melissa filed out of the row after them. They made their way through the lobby and outside. Without looking at his father, she patted Casey on the shoulder. “Thanks for inviting me. I loved the movie and the popcorn. Now I have to go or I’ll be late for my dinner date.” In this case she hoped she could be forgiven for a small white lie.

“I wish you could come with us.”

“But she can’t.” His father’s voice had an edge. “Have you thanked her for coming?”

Casey’s blue eyes revealed a poignant longing that caught her off guard. “Thanks, Melissa.”

She smiled. “I bet I had a better time than you did. Have fun at your aunt’s. Are you taking Dexter with you?”

He nodded.

“Lucky dog,” she said, and hurried off to her Jeep to prevent his father from having to say another word.

Once inside, she reached into her purse for her iPhone and searched for Lufka’s in Salt Lake. A list with that spelling came up. She clicked on the first entry, and up popped the website for the Lufka Private Investigator firm on Wasatch Boulevard. Now she remembered where she’d seen it before. She’d passed their place of business hundreds of times.

Her eyes took in the information. The firm covered everything from surveillance and insurance fraud to missing persons, stalking cases, theft of property and protection to individuals. In Melissa’s mind, Mr. Stillman had traded one dangerous job for another, and would make an adversary without equal.

Not wasting another second, she headed for her parents’ home. She knew they had a business dinner tonight, but maybe they hadn’t left yet. Melissa needed to talk to them. She had an idea.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.