Hot On His Trail. Kristin Eckhardt

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СКАЧАТЬ picked up the telephone.

      * * *

      CALLEY WAS SURPRISED to find herself directed to Lily Bishop’s spacious bedroom rather than Dylan Garrett’s office. She had prepared herself to face a man for this job interview, not the thoughtful, intuitive young woman who studied her now.

      Lily’s jet-black hair contrasted sharply against the snow-white pillow cases. Despite the fact that she was confined to bed, Lily looked nothing like an invalid. She flipped quickly through the pages of Calley’s résumé, her mouth pursed in concentration.

      “Your résumé is a little thin,” Lily said at last.

      “What I lack in experience, I make up for in creativity,” Calley replied. She’d planned to sugarcoat her answers to Dylan Garrett, but she instinctively knew such a strategy wouldn’t work with his sister.

      Lily laid the résumé on her lap. “That’s good to hear, because at the moment we’re working on a tough case. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it.”

      Calley gratefully took a chair next to the bed, her knees feeling a little shaky. She wanted this job so badly. Needed it, if she was ever to venture out on her own.

      “The man we’re searching for is Matthew Radcliffe. He’s a beneficiary in Violet Mitchum’s will. Along with a monetary gift, he’s to receive one of Violet’s rings and a sealed letter from her.” Lily handed Calley an old photo. “He was twelve when this picture was taken. That’s also the age he was the last time Violet saw him.”

      Calley studied the photo of a tall, lanky boy riding bareback on a dappled horse. His cowboy hat shaded his face, but she could see the proud set of his thin shoulders and the confident way he held the reins.

      “Matt’s mother was the Mitchums’ housekeeper,” Lily continued. “He was born and raised on the Mitchum ranch. At least until the fire.”

      “Fire?” Calley asked, her gaze still on the photo. She wished she could see his face.

      “The Mitchums lived in a Victorian house just outside of Pinto that Charles Mitchum built for his wife in the fifties. There was a fire twenty years ago that destroyed a large part of the structure. It was after this fire that Matt and his mother, Rita, disappeared.”

      “What about his father?” Calley asked.

      “Todd Radcliffe ran out on his family when Matt was eight years old.”

      Calley looked up from the photo. “I assume you’ve already contacted Matt’s mother?”

      Lily nodded. “Apparently, she and her son are not close. When we first spoke with Rita in November she had no idea where to find Matt. Although she did tell us that he calls her on Christmas.”

      Calley glanced up. “That was two weeks ago.”

      Lily smiled. “We gave Rita a small gift for her cooperation. A new cordless phone with—”

      “Caller ID,” Calley concluded, feeling the first tingles of excitement.

      “That’s right. My brother just told me she contacted Finders Keepers a few days ago.” Lily reached into a thin file folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is the telephone number Rita wrote down after her son called.”

      Calley looked at the area code. “505. That’s New Mexico, isn’t it?”

      “Yes. Dylan traced the phone number to a roadstop café outside of White Rock, New Mexico. It’s a small town just north of Santa Fe. He contacted the owner of the café. Apparently, no one there knows Matt Radcliffe.”

      “Which means we can assume he was just passing through.”

      Lily nodded. “That’s all we have to go on. We don’t even have a description, since Rita hasn’t seen her son in years.”

      Calley looked at the old photo once again. “He’ll be tall and have dark hair.”

      “Rita did tell us that her son has dark brown eyes,” Lily added, handing the file to Calley. “And that he loves horses.”

      As Calley glanced at the manila file folder in her hand, then at Lily, her heart began beating double time. “Does this mean I have the job?”

      “Well, you might want to hear the conditions first.”

      Calley placed the photo of Matt Radcliffe inside the folder, hoping Lily couldn’t see the way her hand was shaking. She didn’t give a fig about any conditions. She’d walk all the way to New Mexico if necessary.

      “You won’t be the only one looking for Radcliffe,” Lily continued. “There is another man interested in this position. He’ll be on the case, too. Whoever is the first one to bring Radcliffe back here wins the job.”

      Calley stood up. “Then I’d better get started.”

      Lily looked up at her. “So you’re still interested?”

      “Definitely,” Calley said, her blood racing at the thrill of competition. It had been too long since she’d felt that thrill. Much too long.

      “Oh, one more thing,” Lily added, as Calley headed for the door.

      She turned. “Yes?”

      “You left a blank space on your application.” Lily held it up. “Do you have anyone we can contact, such as a family member, in case of an emergency?”

      “No,” Calley said, wishing the lie wasn’t necessary. “I don’t have anyone.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      MATT RADCLIFFE stood at the corral as the sun set on the horizon, the last golden rays caressing the sparse grass and sagebrush growing along the fence. He propped one boot up on a metal rail and watched the herd of one hundred longhorn steers paw up a cloud of fine dust inside the large enclosure.

      He tried to ignore the spark of excitement in his belly. But it smoldered there, refusing to be doused by good common sense. At sunup, he would embark on a fool’s errand, dreamed up by Rufus Tupper, New Mexico’s richest resident fool. A gentleman rancher, Rufus had never raised so much as a blister. He left that to the real cowboys, like Matt. Men who loved the land but couldn’t afford to buy a ranch of their own.

      That was all about to change.

      “Hey, cowboy.”

      Matt turned to see Marla Mackovic walking up to the corral. She was a former Las Vegas showgirl who had hoped to cash in on Tupper’s wealth when he’d asked her to come live at the ranch. Instead, she spent most of her time dusting his horse trophies and preparing his hangover tonics.

      “I missed you at supper,” she said, ambling over to him, her hands behind her back. Her overpermed hair hung like a black cloud down her back. He’d always liked Marla, even if she did wear too much makeup and perfume. But he didn’t like the calculating gleam he saw in her eyes this evening.

      “I had a few last-minute preparations to make.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ