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.
