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The plane crash wasn’t a big story. But it had made the local TV news, complete with a drone shot of the wreck as a salvage crew rigged the craft for transport.
Casey watched the broadcast on the overhead TV at the gym. He was getting regular physical therapy on his ankle, but if he wanted to be ready for the PBR finals, he couldn’t neglect the rest of his body. He was working his arms and shoulders on one of the weight machines when the news came on. He paid scant attention to the story about the plane crash until he heard the name of the pilot. When the newscaster moved on without offering any more information, he reached for his phone and called Val. She answered on the first ring.
“Casey, are you all right?” As always, the sound of her husky voice made his heart skip. They’d grown apart since their parting at the ranch. But that didn’t change the way he felt about her. She was the only woman for him, and always would be.
“I’m fine,” he said, “except that I just saw Brock’s plane on the news. What happened? Is he okay?”
“Yes—and so’s Tess. They crash-landed in the desert. Both of them walked away without a scratch.”
“Tess was with him? There was no mention of that on the news.”
“She said that Brock wanted to keep her name out of the press. He was flying her from Vegas to Ajo, to be with Lexie—oh, and Lexie had her baby. A perfect little boy.”
The mention of a baby boy touched a nerve in Casey. But he knew better than to react. He also knew better than to tell Val what the detective had sent him. The pieces of the investigation were falling into place. He had names, dates, a former address, and even a blurred photo of the adoptive parents with their one-year-old baby. There was a real chance of finding his son.
Casey was burning to share the information he had. But Val had been adamant in her refusal to take part in his search. Casey had promised to honor her wishes.
“That’s great news about Lexie. Give her and Shane my congratulations,” he said.
“I will. She’s still in the hospital, but I’ll pass on the word.”
“And how are you, Val?” Casey struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice. He missed her so damned much.
“I’m getting by,” she said. “For now, I seem to be the one holding things together while everybody else is in crisis. For me, that’s a nice change. And I suppose you’re getting anxious to get back in the arena.”
“That’s what I’m working on. The ankle’s almost healed.”
“I’m glad.” She wasn’t glad, Casey knew, but that couldn’t be helped.
“I’ll let you go,” he said. “Again, give my best to Tess and the new parents.”
“I will. Bye for now.”
“I love you, Val.” He spoke the words, but she’d already ended the call.
Casey finished the workout and drove home to his condo. Pleasantly tired, he popped a cold beer from the fridge and sat down at his desktop computer. The detective had e-mailed him some scanned documents related to their son’s final adoption. They’d arrived a few days ago, including a photo. Casey had seen them earlier but now that he had time, he wanted to study them line by line, burning every detail into his memory.
Date of final adoption: April 26, 2012
Name of child: Matthew Randall Peterson, Age: 12 months
Name of father: Phillip Clifford Peterson
Name of mother: Cora Mae Randall Peterson
Present address: 9854 West Baxter Drive
City, State and Zip: Palmdale, California 93510
The black-and-white photo of the family appeared faded, maybe from the scan. It showed a plain, wholesome-looking couple holding a toddler dressed in a miniature baseball uniform with a Dodgers logo. Did his son like baseball now? Casey wondered. Did he play, maybe on a Little League team? Casey had never cared much for team sports. For him, it had always been rodeo. But what did that matter? This was real. This was his boy.
The one missing piece of information was the present whereabouts of the Peterson family. They’d left Palmdale seven years ago. The detective was still searching records for their location. When he found it, his work would be done.
The rest would be up to Casey.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
