The Texas Ranger's Reward

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.

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