a man who was
used to being on his own, it was a weird feeling.
But the name of the restaurant on the notepad implied that Rachel was not dieting today.
It didn’t take a great deal of investigative talent to figure out that his mysterious housekeeper was on her way to
meet someone for lunch. Given the fact that she was a stranger in the vicinity, that raised some interesting questions.
Chance picked up the keys to the Chevy and stalked out the door. He was getting tired of asking questions about
Rachel Wilder and not getting any answers. Maybe it was time to start conducting a more active investigation.
But as long as he was going to follow the lady to her rendezvous, he might as well take a load of junk to the local
dump site. True, it wasn’t a very large load, because most of the items he’d inventoried had appeared potentially
useful. But there was a stack of empty cardboard boxes he could get rid of. He wanted to clear some space in the
overcrowded coach house.
There was plenty of time for a short detour. After all, he knew exactly where Rachel was headed.
Rachel was alarmed by the terrible sense of guilt she was feeling as she parked her car in the restaurant lot. The guilt
had set in shortly after the phone call from Keith Braxton and her rash promise to meet him for lunch. It hadn’t taken
her long to regret her decision, but when she’d thought about canceling the lunch she had realized she had no phone
number for Braxton. She didn’t even know where he was staying. She had spent a restless night trying to think of a
way to explain her change of heart to the journalist.
She couldn’t even explain it to herself. She just knew that this wasn’t the kind of revenge she wanted.
She dropped her keys into her purse and headed toward the door of the restaurant, rehearsing her apologies.
Keith Braxton was waiting for her in the restaurant lobby. He had an open, pleasant face with handsome features
and warm brown eyes. He was about her age with hair a few shades lighter than her own, and he was dressed casually
in jeans and pullover. He came forward with an extended hand and a cheerful, engaging smile.
„You must be Rachel. I’m Keith Braxton, and I can’t tell you how glad I am you agreed to meet me today. Doing
research on Abraham Chance is like pulling teeth on a chicken.“
„I can imagine it would be twice as difficult without the cooperation of the chicken,“ Rachel said politely as the
hostess showed them to a table near the window.
„You can say that again,“ Braxton muttered with great depth of feeling. „The man’s about as cooperative as a
stone. You’d think I was trying to do a big expose or something.“
Rachel looked at him. „Exactly what are you trying to do?“
„Just a profile of one of today’s top-notch business security investigators.“ Braxton leaned forward, his eyes alight
with enthusiasm. „They’re a whole new breed, Rachel. They combine the gut instincts of the old-fashioned private eye
with all the new techniques needed to track down today’s white collar criminal. They don’t mess around with divorce
and custody cases. They go after embezzlers and computer thieves. Vast sums of money are often involved.
Sometimes the agencies provide bodyguard services for high-powered executives who are worth their weight in
ransom. They handle tricky courier transfers and provide expertise and advice to companies trying to tighten up
internal security. Corporations are willing to pay well for the services, and the really good operatives, like Chance, can
name their price.“ Braxton sat back as the menus were delivered.
„And you want to do an article on Chance because he’s one of the best in the field, is that it?“
„Right. I’m not surprised to hear Chance is leaving Dixon Security to go out on his own. My research tells me he’s
got the business sense as well as the investigative ability to start his own agency. He’s the perfect
used to being on his own, it was a weird feeling.
But the name of the restaurant on the notepad implied that Rachel was not dieting today.
It didn’t take a great deal of investigative talent to figure out that his mysterious housekeeper was on her way to
meet someone for lunch. Given the fact that she was a stranger in the vicinity, that raised some interesting questions.
Chance picked up the keys to the Chevy and stalked out the door. He was getting tired of asking questions about
Rachel Wilder and not getting any answers. Maybe it was time to start conducting a more active investigation.
But as long as he was going to follow the lady to her rendezvous, he might as well take a load of junk to the local
dump site. True, it wasn’t a very large load, because most of the items he’d inventoried had appeared potentially
useful. But there was a stack of empty cardboard boxes he could get rid of. He wanted to clear some space in the
overcrowded coach house.
There was plenty of time for a short detour. After all, he knew exactly where Rachel was headed.
Rachel was alarmed by the terrible sense of guilt she was feeling as she parked her car in the restaurant lot. The guilt
had set in shortly after the phone call from Keith Braxton and her rash promise to meet him for lunch. It hadn’t taken
her long to regret her decision, but when she’d thought about canceling the lunch she had realized she had no phone
number for Braxton. She didn’t even know where he was staying. She had spent a restless night trying to think of a
way to explain her change of heart to the journalist.
She couldn’t even explain it to herself. She just knew that this wasn’t the kind of revenge she wanted.
She dropped her keys into her purse and headed toward the door of the restaurant, rehearsing her apologies.
Keith Braxton was waiting for her in the restaurant lobby. He had an open, pleasant face with handsome features
and warm brown eyes. He was about her age with hair a few shades lighter than her own, and he was dressed casually
in jeans and pullover. He came forward with an extended hand and a cheerful, engaging smile.
„You must be Rachel. I’m Keith Braxton, and I can’t tell you how glad I am you agreed to meet me today. Doing
research on Abraham Chance is like pulling teeth on a chicken.“
„I can imagine it would be twice as difficult without the cooperation of the chicken,“ Rachel said politely as the
hostess showed them to a table near the window.
„You can say that again,“ Braxton muttered with great depth of feeling. „The man’s about as cooperative as a
stone. You’d think I was trying to do a big expose or something.“
Rachel looked at him. „Exactly what are you trying to do?“
„Just a profile of one of today’s top-notch business security investigators.“ Braxton leaned forward, his eyes alight
with enthusiasm. „They’re a whole new breed, Rachel. They combine the gut instincts of the old-fashioned private eye
with all the new techniques needed to track down today’s white collar criminal. They don’t mess around with divorce
and custody cases. They go after embezzlers and computer thieves. Vast sums of money are often involved.
Sometimes the agencies provide bodyguard services for high-powered executives who are worth their weight in
ransom. They handle tricky courier transfers and provide expertise and advice to companies trying to tighten up
internal security. Corporations are willing to pay well for the services, and the really good operatives, like Chance, can
name their price.“ Braxton sat back as the menus were delivered.
„And you want to do an article on Chance because he’s one of the best in the field, is that it?“
„Right. I’m not surprised to hear Chance is leaving Dixon Security to go out on his own. My research tells me he’s
got the business sense as well as the investigative ability to start his own agency. He’s the perfect
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