Page 5 of Deception

Clayton shifted his attention back to his food and took his time finishing breakfast. Jesse Ritter, his new field ranger, had a dental appointment but was now patrolling the Trace, and Clayton intended to take advantage of a chance to relax after spending a month of supervisory training the freshly minted ranger.

He placed his fork and knife on the now-empty plate and glanced once again at the judge’s table, where the woman now leaned toward him, her palms open, like she was imploring the judge. Clayton could barely see the judge as he shook his head. The woman, who was young enough to be his daughter, sat back, her face almost stonelike. Suddenly, she stood and said something. The judge held out his hands in an it’s-out-of-my-hands motion. The woman stared at him briefly, then said something else, loud enough for Clayton to hear this time. “You’ll have to live with the decisions you’ve made.”

As the woman marched to the door, Clayton felt like there was something familiar about her. Short-cropped brown hair, heart-shaped face. But no one in particular came to mind. He stood and put two dollars down for Chrissy before ambling over to Judge Anderson’s table.

“Morning, sir,” he said.

“Clayton.” He acknowledged him with a nod and set his cupdown. Clayton had never noticed the judge was left-handed. “How are you?”

They exchanged pleasantries, then Clayton asked about his grandsons. “Do you hear much from Buddy and Joe?”

“Not often,” the judge replied. “I think they’re too busy for me.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.” He wished his grandfather were still alive. Clayton felt a presence at his elbow and turned, recognizing the older woman who waited expectantly. “Sorry, Mrs. Winslow, I didn’t mean to block your way.”

Judith Winslow barely came to his chest. Her wispy hair forming a silver halo around her head was the only indication she was in her sixties.

The administrator of the local orphanage stared at him with a can’t-quite-place-you look in her eyes.

“Clayton Bradshaw,” he said, helping her out. “My mother volunteers at Bright Horizons.”

Recognition lit Judith’s eyes. “Ramona. She is such a blessing. How is that precious granddaughter of hers? Ava, I believe?”

“Ava’s good. I’m having dinner with her and my sister tonight.”

“Such a pity about the birthmark on her face.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ava was a beautiful child, inside and out, and it broke his heart that the first thing anyone thought about was the port wine stain on her cheek.

“I’ll tell your mother I saw you.”

He grinned and turned to the judge. The look in his eyes as he stared at Judith stopped Clayton cold. He’d seen the same expression in one of the unbroken horses he’d worked with in his college days when they put a saddle on his back. Wariness. Just as suddenly as the look had been there, it disappeared, and the judge shifted his gaze to Clayton.

“Good to see you again, son.”

“Same here.”

Anderson extended his hand, and Clayton shook it, then walked away. At the door, he glanced back at the table. Judith was seated in the same chair as the judge’s previous visitor, and the older man was emphatically shaking his head to something Judith had said. Clayton didn’t know what was going on, but Judge William Anderson was not happy to see Judith Winslow.

4

William Anderson glanced away from Judith, his face schooled not to reveal the turmoil raging through him. He’d sown the wind and now the whirlwind had come to collect.

She stood. “I didn’t put my order in. Be right back.”

He started to tell her not to bother, that he didn’t have time for her today, but for someone in her sixties, she moved very fast and was out of hearing range before he got the words out.

William stared at the chair she’d vacated. It’d been in this very room thirty-five years ago when he signed a pact with the devil...

“All right. You’ll get the $50,000 at the exchange,” he’d said to her. “And not a second before.”

“Didn’t expect anything else.” Judith Winslow smoothed her skirt and leaned forward in the chair. “And you’ll never hear from me again.”

“I have your word on that?” Like her word was worth anything. When she nodded, he said, “All right. It’s a deal.”

“Good.” Then without skipping a beat, she said, “Now for my brokerage fee. I believe $10,000 today will do it.”

“Brokerage—” He snapped his jaw shut on the rest of his response and took a deep breath. “Taken out of the $50,000, I presume.”

---