he’d left the department last fall and had no intention of ever going back, years of experience with the Detroit police force instantly ratcheted up his curiosity at her tense expression.
“I see from your plates that you lived in Illinois.” He slipped an easy smile into place. “What part?”
“Chicago.” She bent over a cardboard box and began ripping back the sealing tape.
“City or suburbs?”
“We…moved around quite a lot.”
He whistled. “Quite a change, coming to a small town like Lone Wolf.”
“Just a temporary one.” She checked her watch. “Look, I’d love to visit, but I really don’t have time. Was there anything else?”
Temporary? That was certainly good news. “Do you know the owners of this house?”
Again, that flash of wariness. “Why?”
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “The last renters obviously left it in poor shape, and they weren’t the best neighbors. My uncle Walt tried to buy it a few months ago, but the Realtor said it wasn’t for sale.”
“What would he do with it?”
“Bulldoze the buildings, then sell the land or turn it into more parking for the clinic, probably. The place isn’t worth much, anyway—and it would solve a lot of problems in the neighborhood.”
She bristled. “That’s what he thinks?”
“That’s the local consensus, and the owners obviously don’t care about it. All I need is a way to contact them directly.” He winked at her. “If they sell, you’ll be able to find a better place to live. I even know where there’s some free labor to help you move.”
“Actually, the owners do care—very much,” she retorted. “My sister and I inherited this property from our aunt, and it’s a beautiful house…or was, until recently.”
Surprised, he did a double take. “You?”
She stiffened. “And my sister. After the funeral, we had to clean out Crystal’s possessions, and we made sure things were in good repair. But Melanie lives in Billings and I lived in Chicago, so we hired a local Realtor to manage the property. As long as there was rental income, we assumed…Well, we obviously misplaced our trust. I figured I’d spend the summer on cosmetic improvements and some minor updating, but seeing it today was quite a shock.”
“So why not just get rid of it? Fast and easy sale, and you could be on your way.”
“Frankly, it’ll be worth a great deal more when I’m done.” She stuffed two twenties into his hand. “And then I promise you, it won’t be dirt cheap to someone who wants a parking lot.”
Something stirred behind the lunch counter. A moment later, a little strawberry blond preschooler rounded the corner, a rag doll clutched at her chest. From her tousled hair and drowsy eyes, she must have been asleep.
“Hi, there,” he said, taken by her winsome expression.
Her eyes grew wide and somber as she looked up at him. “You look like my daddy,” she whispered sadly. “But he’s dead.”
Speechless, he stared down at her as a sudden chill made him shiver. Like my daddy…
When his heart finally started beating again, he dredged up a ghost of a smile, then turned and walked out before his knees could give way.
He knew the woman was watching him leave and probably thought he was crazy, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped by with a sense of righteous indignation over the welfare of his uncle, thinking that yet another pack of troublemakers was moving into the house next door.
Instead, he’d been taken aback by its pretty and very determined owner—and apparently had managed to get on her bad side in a matter of minutes. But none of that began to touch the searing pain that ripped through his heart at the little girl’s unexpected words.
The strawberry blond hair…the long, silky ringlets…the dusting of freckles across her pert little nose…he’d dreamed a thousand times about just such a child.
On long, sleepless nights, the image had often haunted him until he finally left the house and walked aimlessly through the dark streets of Detroit, half wishing that some carload of cocky young punks would pull over and challenge him with a .44 Magnum…and half wishing that he would lose. In the early days, it might have been a blessed relief to leave his guilt and pain behind.
The child was the image of what he’d always imagined his little girl would’ve looked like—if she’d lived.
DR. WALT STOOD on the front steps of the clinic and watched Joel’s pickup roar out of the driveway and head out into the country.
“Who set that boy’s tail afire?” Loraine Gilbert, who’d been in Walt’s high school class back in the dark ages and who was one of his longtime clients, stood next to him holding a squirmy black Lab pup in her arms. “You’d swear the devil was after him.”
“Maybe he is.” Walt tipped his head toward the place next door, where a little girl and her mother were climbing into an SUV hitched to a trailer, both with out-of-state plates.
The young woman appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and she was a hard worker, lugging much of the stuff out of that trailer alone, until Joel stopped over to pitch in. “And maybe it’s time he got shook up a little.”
Loraine snorted. “I thought you wanted to buy the place and get rid of that mess. Now you’re in for another siege.”
“Take a good look.” He nodded toward the woman next door. “Now who does she remind you of?”
Loraine squinted into the late afternoon sun as the SUV pulled away. “Same red hair.”
“Same skinny build.”
“Shorter, though. Not so tall and gangly.” Loraine shot a quick glance at Walt, as if trying to read his thoughts. “Though I guess you sort of liked ’em that way, back in the day.”
The wistful note in her voice caught him by surprise. “Crystal was just a friend. A good friend, Lorrie. You know I never looked at another woman after my wife passed on.”
“You should have, you know.” The pup pedaled its paws wildly until she finally put him down. He bounded to the end of his leash but then spun around and barreled back to collide with her jeans. “You would’ve had a passel of kids, and by now, you’d have a whole herd of grandkids.”
“I just didn’t have the heart. But Joel here isn’t going to make the same mistake.”
Loraine harrumphed, though there was now a twinkle in her eye. “I hear it’s not going so well just yet.”
“Stubborn. That boy is plumb stubborn, but no one can outlast pure temptation—not when Texas grows the prettiest little gals you’d ever hope to see. Like you, for instance.” He chuckled at
