is my last chance to save my husband, my family and my sanity.” She pointed to the clipping. “That is my son. I just know it. I’ve been looking for years and I’ve never had this feeling before. Please.”
Buck had warned her about taking these types of cases, but she never paid too much attention to her father—her partner in the agency. He’d say they were too emotional and too time-consuming. Tell her that she shouldn’t put herself through that again. To go with the cases that bring in the big bucks and leave the gut-wrenching cases to detectives with more grit in their gizzards.
In his own way, she knew her father was trying to keep her from getting hurt again. While working on the Dallas police force she’d found a missing child murdered. She realized then she didn’t have steel-coated nerves. It had been a tough decision to quit the force and join her father in the detective agency. If she wanted to be tough as nails, she had the perfect teacher—Buck Donovan. But she hadn’t worked a missing person’s case since. It was time to get back into the swing of things.
She stared at the photo of Brodie Hayes. There had to be a way to do this discreetly and put Mrs. Braxton’s mind at rest once and for all. And she could make sure that no one got hurt, especially one very good-looking cowboy.
“I’ll do some checking, but I’m not promising anything.” Alex told her the retainer fee and Mrs. Braxton wrote out a check.
“Oh, thank you, Ms. Donovan.” Relief filled Mrs. Braxton’s face and Alex wished with all her heart this case would turn out the way the woman wanted. The odds were against her. Still, she’d do her best.
“Please call me Alex.” She rose and was grateful for the flurry of air the movement circulated.
“And please call me Helen.” Helen slipped the strap of her purse over her arm. “My phone number and everything is in the folder.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” Helen walked out, but Maggie lingered.
“Ms.—Alex, my parents don’t have a lot of money. My father used to raise cutting horses, but after Wes’s death he sold most of them. They live off their social security now. I’m powerless to stop my mother in this search. Since we lost Wes, it consumes her whole life. And when she saw the photo, well, our lives haven’t been the same.”
“I can imagine that losing a child is something a woman never gets over.”
Maggie brushed back her dark hair. “Yes. I have two children, a son, Cody, and a daughter, Amber. If someone took them from me, I’m not sure how I would handle it.”
“Your mother seems very strong.”
“Yes, but please don’t indulge this fantasy of hers. Travis is gone and I…we have to accept that. After all these years my mother has to find a way to let him go.” Her blue eyes pleaded for Alex to understand.
“I’ll do my research and be very honest about my findings.”
“Thank you.” She turned to leave, then reached into the pocket of her two-piece suit. “I live here in Dallas and my parents live in Weatherford. Here are my numbers.” Maggie laid a card on the desk. “If you find anything, please call me first so I can be with my mother when you tell her.”
“I will,” Alex promised, and Maggie walked out.
She studied the card—an accountant. What a load Maggie carried being the only remaining child. That had to be hard for her, but she also seemed like a strong woman.
Alex gathered everything and put it in her briefcase. Her goal now was to breathe fresh air—cool fresh air.
The offices consisted of four rooms—a reception area, her father’s office and hers, then a storage room. With her briefcase in hand, she headed for the front door. It opened before she reached it and her father, Dirk Donovan, walked in.
“What the hell? It’s like an oven in here. Why in the hell don’t you have on the air-conditioning?”
Buck, as he was called, was an ex-police officer who stood over six feet and had a hefty frame and a sour disposition. To say they never saw eye-to-eye on anything was an understatement. Sometimes Alex questioned her sanity in going into partnership with him, but after her last assignment with the Dallas police department she needed someone who would not treat her with kid gloves. Buck certainly had never done that.
And a part of her was searching for a closer relationship with her father. She felt she barely knew this man who most people seemed to fear, including her at times. Her mother died when Alex was two so she never knew her. She yearned for a family connection, a normal life and a deeper father-daughter relationship.
They’d been partners for two years and Buck criticized, ridiculed and browbeat her at every turn. She gave as good as she got, but what did that say about her—that she was a glutton for punishment? Or maybe, like Mrs. Braxton, she still believed in fantasy, fairy tales and a happy ending.
She placed one hand on her hip. “You’re a detective. Can’t you figure out why it’s so hot in here?”
“Damn. It’s out again.”
“You got it.”
Buck swiped an arm across his forehead. “Did you call that damn repair man?”
She took a long breath. “Yes. Bert said he’d be here in the morning.”
“In the morning!” The earsplitting exclamation almost shifted the pictures on the walls. “What the hell’s the matter with him?”
“It’s July in Texas. He’s busy.”
“You have to learn to push, girl. You’re too damn soft. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
She kept her temper in check. “Feel free to push all you want. I’m going home where it’s cool.”
“Bert’ll have his ass over here by this afternoon.” Buck headed for his office, then stopped. “Who were those women I saw leaving?”
“Mrs. Helen Braxton and her daughter. She hired me to find her son.”
“What?” One eyebrow jerked upward in surprise.
“Her son was stolen from a hospital almost forty years ago when he was two days old.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. Why would you take such a case? Call her and tell her you’ve changed your mind. We’re working on those cases for the district attorney and that’s where our attention should be—where the money is. Get your head out of the clouds.”
She stiffened her backbone, which was an effort in the heat. “I have no intention of doing any such thing.”
“Don’t talk back to me, girl. Just do what I tell you. You put yourself through hell when you found that murdered girl. A cop learns never to put his heart into those kinds of cases, but you had to learn the hard way.”
She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. “Yes. I did, but I don’t regret my involvement in the Woodly case. The perpetrator is behind bars for the rest of his insane life and the parents have finally moved on. They had another child last year. I get a card every Christmas from them. You’re right, though.
