Clancey felt a little better the next morning. Cal had driven Tad to school, leaving Clancey with a cup of hot cappuccino from a coffee shop and a bagel with cream cheese—favorites he recalled from when she’d worked for him. She’d savored every bite, every sip. She couldn’t afford the expensive coffee these days, with Tad’s growing necessities for school. She didn’t begrudge him a penny, but money was always tight. Luxuries like coffee shop treats were out.

Unexpectedly, Banks showed up at her door at noon, with a burger and fries and a strawberry milk shake.

To say that she was surprised was an understatement.

He went straight into the kitchen, pulled out a plate and emptied the contents of his sack into it. He carried that, and the milk shake, in to Clancey.

She was sitting up in bed in her blue satin pajamas with the worn sheet and ancient quilt pulled up over her breasts. Her heart was racing like mad. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

“That’s so sweet of you...” she began.

“I was out this way on a case,” he said, pulling up a chair. He sailed his Stetson onto the foot of her bed and leaned forward. “Is the medicine working?”

She nodded. “I feel a little better today.” Her eyes were full of worry. “I can barely get down the hall to the bathroom,” she began.

“I cleared it with the lieutenant,” he said easily. “He said for you to stay out until you feel like coming back to work. You haven’t claimed a single sick day yet, and you’ve done more overtime than you’re paid for. The lieutenant keeps up with all the employees through his assistants,” he added with a chuckle. “Including me.”

“Oh thank goodness,” she said. “I was so scared you might fire me.”

“For being sick?” he chided gently, and he smiled. “Shame on you.”

She smiled back shyly and picked up the milk shake. She sipped it and let out a heartfelt sigh. “This is so good! How did you know I like strawberry best?” she added.

He shrugged. “I didn’t. But some people are allergic to chocolate, and not a lot like vanilla, so strawberry seemed like a safe bet.”

She laughed. “It is. Heavenly!” She sipped more of it and nibbled on a French fry.

“Do you remember anything about Dalton Reed being a member of any clubs or organizations?” he asked suddenly.

She jumped, almost tumbling the plate she was holding. “Dalton Reed?” she asked.

He scowled at her reaction. “It’s the cold case. The elderly man who went missing and was never found.”

“Oh, that one,” she said, hoping she sounded more composed than she felt. She drew in a breath. “He was a Sunday school teacher at the Meadow Methodist Church,” she said.