“What the—” Cal stuttered.

“She raised him from a calf,” Sully said. “Some nights she slept in the barn with him. His mother didn’t make it and Casey fed him from a bottle. She and a couple of the Mitchells can seem to manage him, but no one else. Don’t get the idea he’s safe—he’s a big, ornery bull. But he’s fathered half the herd and he takes orders from Casey Mitchell. She got a blue ribbon for him.”

“Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” Maggie said.

“He turned over two picnic tables. Stan was going to shoot him. People were running and screaming,” Cal said.

“Yeah, I didn’t say he wasn’t a troublemaker, but I don’t think he’s ever hurt anyone. I mean, if you get between Cornelius and a heifer when they’re courting, there could be trouble, but usually he just likes people out of his way and sometimes he likes to show off a little bit. He’s mostly a big spoiled baby with only one mommy and she’s a hundred-and-five-pound teenager,” Sully said.

Maggie grinned. “I told you you’d like it. Better than a magic trick, isn’t it? The truth, California—isn’t this the most awesome place?”

“Oh, awesome! Escaped Alzheimer patients, kidnappers, naked hikers and a crazy bull so far.”

“We’re just getting warmed up. Summer’s not over yet.”

* * *

It made Cal uncomfortable keeping things from Maggie, but it was the nature of his profession that all cases, no matter how small or large, were confidential. So, when she asked him why he was on his laptop so much the very next afternoon, he made up a small, partial lie. “Someone I met at the bookstore in Leadville was asking questions about Colorado law and I offered to help research. A good excuse to get a little more familiar with Colorado statutes.”

“Does she have a name?” Maggie wanted to know.

“He does, but I think I should keep that confidential. Just as you would keep a patient’s medical information confidential.”

“Hmm. It occurs to me that if we were both working we wouldn’t have much to talk about.”

He presented her with his finest lascivious grin. “I believe we will never run out of interesting and stimulating subject matter.”

Cal had told Tom to ask his ex-wife if she’d like to consult with an experienced defense attorney and if so, he would have to see her at once. The next day he called and said Becky was very anxious to talk to a good lawyer. Since Cal didn’t have an office, he made arrangements to go to Becky’s house.

Cal parked across the street from a nice-looking town house in a pleasant little neighborhood that backed up to a golf course. This was his first time in Aurora and clearly it was upscale, with lots of building going on, wide clean streets, impeccable landscaping and more than the average quotient of late-model SUVs and sports cars. Becky, Tom had told him, worked for a plastic surgeon in Aurora.

Aurora was not a cheap place to live.

He knocked on the door and she answered. “Hi, Becky. I’m Cal Jones.”

“Thanks for coming,” she said, opening the door for him.

His first impression was—attractive. The first thing he noticed was boobs. Yes, they were larger than average yet not obnoxiously so. Her crisp white blouse was open just enough to showcase her cleavage and those ta-tas were standing proud. Through the fabric of the blouse he could discern bra straps about the width of string. The bra was not capable of holding her up meaning, after four children, those thirty-six-year-old breasts had been enhanced.

Becky was casually dressed in denim capris and wedge-heeled sandals. Her red hair was pulled back in a demure clip and she wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup. She walked ahead of him to a sunny dining room.