The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,57

Cass wheeled and strode to the office.

Her mother was sitting behind the desk, her head in her hands. She didn’t look up when Cass slammed the door. “Why, Mom? Why? And don’t feed me any bull about accidents or arthritis or poor memory.”

When Gloria looked up, her eyes were red-rimmed and teary. “I—I don’t want you to get hurt, Cass. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening. I don’t trust him. I never have. From the first moment I met him, I knew he was up to something. Something deceptive. He’s using you for his own purposes. Mark my words, the man’s a charlatan.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “And what are you? Psychic?”

Her mother took a deep breath and stared directly into Cass’s eyes.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

Cass knees gave way and she plopped down in a chair. “Since when?”

“Since as long as I can remember. I screamed and fainted the moment your father was shot. Ask Min. I’d been uneasy for several days before it happened. I get feelings.”

“And you’re never wrong?”

“Rarely. I’m not wrong about this.”

“But, Mom, Sam Outlaw checked him out. He’s clean.”

“And exactly why did Sam, a Texas Ranger, check him out?”

Cass squirmed. “Bad vibes? I don’t know.”

“I’ll bet Sam didn’t trust him, either.”

“Perhaps not, but I trust him, Mom. I love Griff.”

“Oh, dear God!”

“Mom, cut the dramatics.”

“Will you promise me, promise me sincerely that you’ll find out more about him before you do something foolish?”

Cass wondered what her mother considered foolish. She’d already done everything except elope with him. “If it will ease you mind, Mom, I promise.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. Thank you.” She hurried from behind the desk and bent over to hug Cass. “Do it right away. I’ve been having such bad feelings.” She kissed Cass’s forehead and held her close in the comforting and protective way she’d always done.

“I will, Mom.”

CASS SAT IN FRONT OF her computer for the longest time, indecision eating her from the inside out. Did she trust Griff or not? She’d trusted Daniel, and look where it got her. Her father had told her to follow her heart, but then he was a ghost, and she’d promised her mother, who was flesh and blood.

Oh, hell and damnation! It was a simple matter to type his name into the search engine. Checking the Internet was no big deal. It was a wonder she hadn’t done it sooner.

G-r-i-f-f-i-n M-i-t-c-h-e-l-l

She punched “Search,” closed her eyes and waited.

All kinds of Griffin Mitchells popped up, including a sixteen-year-old in Anaheim who was on Facebook, and one who had died recently in Alabama. The only ones she found for her Griffin Mitchell were innocuous mentions of information she already knew about.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Should she take it further?

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Cass picked up her cell and punched in Maddie Evert’s number.

When her friend and former colleague answered, she said, “Hey, Maddie, this is Cass. How are things in the Big Apple?” They yakked for a few minutes before Cass jumped in. “I have a big favor to ask. I know you went to Harvard. Did you happen to know a Griffin Mitchell? I’m not sure of the year he was there, but I’d guess he was ahead of you.”

Maddie didn’t know him, but suggested her older brother or cousin might. Both were Harvard educated lawyers in New York.

“Would you check around for me and find out anything you can about him? Confidentially, please. It’s, uh, business, and I want to know who I’m up against.”

Maddie agreed to ask around and call back when she heard something.

When Cass hung up, she felt slightly dirty.

More than slightly.

She took a deep breath and tried to let it go.

Looking through the stack of business mail she needed to answer, she couldn’t believe they’d received another letter from Walter Zeagler, the guy in New York who was so hot to buy the Chili Witches tract. Slicing it open, she was a bit surprised that not only had her last response not discouraged him, but he was requesting a meeting with them the following week. Why was ZASM Consulting so interested in their property?

Although she was certain what they would say, Cass set the letter aside to discuss with the family, and turned to other correspondence. She stopped only to have a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, and by eleven she was finished and fell into bed.

But she couldn’t sleep. Her sheets smelled of Griff.

She