Endangered Heiress. Barb Han

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      “How can I help you, Ed?” she asked, refocusing.

      “Can you meet me tomorrow afternoon here at the Butler ranch?” he asked.

      “I’m afraid I’m working, but I might be able to arrange something if you tell me what this is about,” she responded, still trying to shake the creepy chill from earlier. Owen was right about one thing: he seemed everywhere to her.

      “I’ve been instructed to offer to send a car,” he continued, unfazed by her work excuse.

      “No, thanks. I have my own. Is there a reason we need to meet face-to-face? I mean, can you tell me what this is about over the phone?” she asked, mildly interested in what he had to say and at the very least thankful for the distraction.

      “I apologize. My instructions are clear. If you want to know the nature of Mr. Butler’s request you have to be on the property.” He was steadfast. She’d give him that.

      “Well, then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she countered. Her frustration level was already high and she didn’t need another person wasting her time. Plus, it wasn’t like she could drop everything without a clear reason to give her boss and she didn’t cover the crime beat.

      “Would it make a difference if I told you that it’s in your best interest to come?” he asked.

      This guy was persistent. And frustrating with his cryptic message.

      “Cattle Barge isn’t exactly a few minutes down the road. If you want me to make that drive I need something to go on. My boss will want to know why I need time off to chase down a story outside of Houston,” she said. When she really thought about it, the ranch must be swarming with media by now. Any news about Mike Butler’s death guaranteed above-the-fold placement in print and major promo for broadcast. “Plus, there must be dozens of reporters at the gate chomping at the bit for something to report. Why tell me? I mean, just walk outside your front door and pick someone if you want to get your story out.”

      “This is personal,” he said. “In fact, you may want to take vacation days.”

      Days? She decided to entertain him for just a second. “Okay, so let me see if I have this correctly. You want me to take off work at the snap of a finger for a man I’ve never met and a reason you refuse to tell me? Does that sound about right?”

      “I’m afraid it’s better than it sounds,” he admitted.

      “Who wants me there?” Maybe she could come at this from another angle to get an answer.

      “Your presence was requested by Mr. Butler.”

      She waited for the rest of the sentence but Ed Staples would’ve made a great poker player.

      “Pardon my directness, but he’s...gone. It would be a little difficult for him to ask for me,” she stated.

      “I’m aware.” He didn’t give up anything with his tone. And she wouldn’t even still be on the phone if he hadn’t thrown out the name Mike Butler. But her mild curiosity wouldn’t be enough for her boss to green-light an overnight trip. “This matter is urgent.”

      Hadn’t she just read about his oldest daughter being targeted for murder? Was it possible the family wanted an objective reporter to confide in? Then again, that incident had happened after Butler’s murder and the lawyer had said this was personal. If it was, wouldn’t she at least know Mike Butler? And, again, why her? She exposed neglect in nursing homes and small business fraud.

      “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I can recommend—”

      “Your refusal will come at a hefty cost to you, Ms. Kensington,” he said firmly.

      “No disrespect, but I have a good handle on what’s important to me,” Madelyn shot back.

      “I didn’t mean that as a threat.” He sounded frustrated that he couldn’t pick the right words to persuade her. A few beats of silence came across the line. And then, “Are you sure you want to walk away without knowing what a man like Mike Butler wanted you to be aware of? Out of everyone he could’ve picked, he chose you.”

      Well, when he put it like that she could admit the initial pull was becoming a stronger magnet. Walk away and she might never know what Mike Butler wanted to tell her before he died. Curiosity was growing the more she thought about it and a big exclusive could be huge for her career right now. She could prove to her boss that he’d made a good move in promoting her.

      “Fine. I’ll talk to my boss,” she finally said, knowing full well she could get the time off.

      “I’ll email the details of your stay.” The lawyer sounded pleased and a little bit relieved.

      “I’ll make my own arrangements.” She’d learned a long time ago not to put herself in the hands of a source. And that was just how she’d treat this out-of-the-blue request, like any other news story she was covering.

      “Be advised that you’ll need to take off several days. I’d suggest a minimum of three,” he said.

      Wasn’t that cryptic? She thanked him and ended the call, figuring she would take it one day at a time. Pretty much her new mantra, she thought.

      For the rest of the workday, her thoughts kept circling back to Owen. Not even a hot cup of coffee could thaw the icy chill that crept into her bones when thinking about him. Nor could she shake the feeling of being watched as she walked to her vehicle after work—a feeling that was becoming a little too familiar. Madelyn had always been able to trust her instincts. Until recently. Until Owen. He’d knocked her off balance and she was still trying to regain her footing.

      This, too, shall pass. The saying that had gotten her through so many sad or frightened nights as a child provided no comfort.

      By six thirty the next morning, Madelyn had eaten breakfast, picked up her convertible from the shop and was on the road. She wanted to get out of Houston before traffic was too bad. The call still had her scratching her head and her imagination running wild. Dozens of scenarios had zinged through her mind when she should’ve been sleeping. But then, sleep had been as realistic as a unicorn sighting since Owen had made those threats. He’d been stalking her, too, and that had her scanning faces wherever she went, expecting him to pop up at the grocery store, gas station and every other place she visited.

      Her thoughts returned to the call from Ed Staples. The lawyer had said this was personal but that wasn’t exactly a new tactic to get a reporter’s attention. It ensured she’d agree to the meeting without asking too many questions. Her mind ran around the same hamster wheel.

      Even though she was a reporter, she didn’t work the crime beat. Furthermore, she worked in Houston, not Cattle Barge, although Mike Butler’s money seemed to reach all parts of Texas.

      Did the lawyer want to leak information to her? Or was this truly personal as he’d suggested? She searched her thoughts and couldn’t think of one logical reason she’d plan to stay on for a few days. What could be so important? Why her? Those and other questions that had kept her awake when she should’ve been sleeping had her yawning as she maneuvered onto the highway. Possibilities churned through her mind.

      She tapped her fingers on her steering wheel, keeping time with the music СКАЧАТЬ