Meet Me In Texas

When the woman didn’t respond, he glanced up to find her staring at him. And the bizarre thing was that for a split second he thought there was something vaguely familiar about her. He quickly dismissed the notion. In his line of work at the bureau, he was always examining facial features of people he just met, mentally comparing them to mug shots—a habit he would need to break. “Miss? Miss, did you hear me?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. Yes.” She pointed to the intercom. “I just called the doctor. He’ll be here in a second.”

Del frowned, nodded. Strange, the way the woman was staring at him, he thought. The rescued stray whimpered and he focused on the animal in his arms. Del nodded toward the counter. “Okay if I put him—”

“Oh, oh.” She blinked. “Of course.” She shoved a stack of pamphlets to one side. “You said you found him in a woodpile.” She reached for a clipboard holding a printed form. “How long had he been missing?”

“Don’t know. He’s not mine.”

At that moment, one side of a set of metal doors swung open and a man Del estimated to be in his mid to late thirties stepped through. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots and sported a handlebar mustache. Although a white doctor’s coat covered his western-cut shirt, as he struggled to put on a pair of surgical gloves, he looked more like an old-time cowboy than a veterinarian. He walked straight to Del and the dog.

“Dr. Mike Tanner.” He shook Del’s hand with his ungloved one, then pulled on the second glove. “What’ve we got here?” The vet looked at Lucky. “Whoa, seems like your pal tangled with a nasty customer. What happened?” Without waiting for an answer, he began to give the animal a cursory exam.

“I don’t know. I found him trapped under a stack of lumber but no clue how long he’d been there.”

“Her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Got yourself a female here,” Tanner said to Del.

So much for the name Lucky, Del thought as the vet looked at the gash on the dog’s shoulder. It didn’t seem to suit a female dog.

“Doesn’t appear to be too deep, but let’s get her into the examination room and have a better look,” the vet suggested.

“You need me?” the young woman asked.

“Naw, I think Connie and I can handle it. She’s just finishing up with the potbellied pig from this afternoon. I’ll give a yell if I do.” Dr. Tanner gathered the dog in his arms and turned to Del. “You can come along if you want.”

“Uh, sure,” Del replied, and followed him through the swinging doors.

ALLISON RUSSELL COULD hardly believe her eyes.

Del Rickman. Here, in Crystal Creek, standing not five feet away, and all she could do was stutter and stare. Great, she thought. She’d spent all these years thinking about him, hoping they would meet again, and he’d simply walked back into her life like magic. She should have introduced herself, said something, but she had been dumbfounded. And what did you say to a walking, talking memory that suddenly appeared in front of you like a ghost from the past? To say she was shocked was an understatement. And thrilled, of course. Her whole family would be.

They had tried to keep tabs on him over the years. Once his picture was in the newspaper, and about five years ago they’d seen him on a national news show giving a quote about a high-profile case. Her dad had taped the program while she was at school. Del’s appearance was hardly more than a ten-second sound bite, but she had watched it repeatedly until her sister, Sandy, recorded a Buffy episode over it. The result was one of the worst fights they’d had since they were kids. But the long-since-erased tape couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

She remembered him as handsome, but she’d viewed him through the eyes of a twelve-year-old girl when they first met. She was slightly more objective today. He’d matured, and there was the faintest touch of gray hair at his temples, which she had to say was very attractive. He was not model gorgeous, but then she’d never cared for that type, anyway. His face had strength and a kind of power that went past mere good looks. His hair, dark and thick, was longer than she remembered—not the neatly trimmed style the FBI favored. The truth was, Del Rickman was one extremely good-looking man.

Of course, she’d had a crush on him all those years ago. After all, he’d been the strong FBI agent who had found her and delivered her into the safety of her daddy’s arms. A hero. Her hero. Del had risked his life to keep her from harm, and Allison never forgot that day, or him. At first she’d idolized him, but as she matured, he became a symbol of a turning point in her life. No, more than a turning point, a revelation. It had shaped and directed her life in ways she’d never expected. Overnight she had gone from being a selfish preteen to a young adult with the whole world spread out before her. An evil man intent on killing her stepmother and unborn child had used her as bait, instilling in her the kind of terror that could damage an adult psyche, much less that of a twelve-year-old girl. Allison had no doubt that he would have killed her. Del Rickman had fired the bullet that put an end to her terror, and in doing so became part of that life-altering experience.

Before the kidnapping, Allison had been a moody adolescent with the usual parental resentment. That resentment had intensified the moment her new stepmother, Lynn McKinney Russell, had announced she was pregnant. As the months passed, the rift grew between the two of them. The harder Lynn tried to be a pal, the more distance Allison put between them. The harder her father, Sam, tried to be a mediator, the more Allison felt he had chosen his new wife over his oldest daughter. She had lost her mother to a drunk driver and felt as if she was now losing her father. Even her younger sister, Sandy, had been a victim of her resentment simply because she got along so well with Lynn. But the experience of being kidnapped and threatened with murder predictably changed all of that—changed Allie forever. She discovered a determination she never knew she possessed and a new attitude about what was important in her future.

Allison was adamant that she would direct her own life, and set about doing just that. Her determination propelled her through a grade promotion and advanced courses in high school. She graduated with honors and was valedictorian of her class, then took a full load through four years of college. Through it all she volunteered with the SPCA in Austin and worked part-time at the local vet’s office.

None of this might have happened if Del Rickman hadn’t come into her life. But he had, and she promised herself that if she ever got the chance to express her gratitude to him in person, she would do it eloquently. And while she was delighted that she now had this opportunity, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in Crystal Creek. And with an injured dog, no less.

She smiled, unable to believe her good fortune. She rarely worked on Saturday nights, and it was only sheer luck that one of her coworkers had taken the weekend off and Allison had agreed to work in his place. If not for that quirk of fate she might have missed Del Rickman altogether. No way would she let him leave without telling him how important he had been in her life. She just wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

Obviously, he didn’t recognize her. Not that he should. After all, almost thirteen years had passed. The last time they met he was the Special Agent in charge trying to find her, and she was two months shy of her thirteenth birthday, spindly, awkward and scared to death. Was it any wonder he didn’t recognize her?

Yet she’d known him practically the instant he came through the door. And he was still in the rescue business. This time it was a dog, but that made no difference to Allison. She was so thrilled to see him her heart did a funny little skip and she felt as if she actually had butterflies in her stomach.

She was being ridiculous, she knew. As soon as she told him who she was, her emotions, still mixed with hero worship, would settle down. She was so excited and she knew her family would be, too. With nervous fingers she dialed the number of the Russell home.

“Dad, it’s me. I’ve got the most wonderful news. Guess who just walked into the clinic with a—”

“Del Rickman with an injured dog,” Sam Russell finished at the other end of the line.

“How did you know?”

“He called me to get directions. How’s the dog?”

“I’m not sure. At first look Dr. Mike didn’t think it was too bad, but he’s been working on him for a little over a half hour, so—” The sound of voices cut her off and she glanced over her shoulder to see Del Rickman come through the double doors. “Oh, Dad, here he is now. I’ll call you back.”

Del walked into the lobby area, took a deep breath then smiled.

“From the expression of relief on your face, I take it the dog is going to be all right,” Allison said.

“Yeah. Looks that way.” Del’s smile broadened.

“Well, uh…” For a split second she struggled with whether to call him Mr. or Agent Rickman. “…Mr.—”

“Rickman. Del Rickman.”

“Yes.”

The sense of familiarity Del had felt earlier tugged at him again, prompting him to take a closer look at the woman. His years as an agent made a physical assessment easy. Height: Probably five foot eight, maybe nine. Weight: One hundred and twenty pounds was a safe estimate. Body type: Slender, with what appeared to be the right amount of curves in exactly the right places, but he couldn’t be certain because her white smock prevented an unobstructed view. Hair: Light brown, streaked with honey gold. As for the length, it was swept up and held with a wide clasp at the back of her head, so he couldn’t be sure. Eyes: Blue. He glanced at her left hand. No wedding ring. Age—Del had never mastered the skill of pinpointing a woman’s age. He guessed her to be in her late twenties. She was pretty—actually, beautiful was more accurate, and there was something compelling about her. Maybe that’s what he’d mistaken for the feeling of familiarity.

“Mr. Rickman?”

“You, uh…you probably need me to fill out some kind of form or something, even though he’s not my dog.”

She handed him a clipboard. “If you wouldn’t mind just filling out the top sheet, but—”

“You know, I think I owe you an apology.”

“Why?”

“I must have looked like the devil on a rampage, storming in here, a bleeding dog in my arms. It was clear from the look on your face that I scared you.”

“Not scared. Startled, maybe.”

“I’m sorry.” He propped his forearm on the counter and leaned toward her.

“It’s just that you were the last person on earth I expected to see walk through the door.”

Del frowned. “Do I know you?”