Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
She gave a choked laugh. “I hear Diego and Palmer did just that the other day. They picked up some snacks at the AM/PM two blocks from the high school right after it let out. Diego was sure some girl had her eye on him. Palmer told him he was imagining it. The girl was eyeing
him.
”
God, that took Reid back. There were never more than a couple of girls living at the shelter at any one time. Paula and Roger were conscious of the issues bound to arise when they mixed teenage boys and girls. Sexual and romantic relations were strictly forbidden, and Paula especially seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and ears like CIA radar antennae.
“Tell him,” he said abruptly. “We can't take a chance. And I'm going to have to be damn careful if I come out there at all.”
“What if something happens?” she asked, and for the first time in his memory he heard a faint quaver in her voice.
He knew what kind of
something
she meant, and he felt a cramp of fear. What if they needed him, and he didn't dare chance leading his father to Caleb?
Or, if they needed him, did that mean Dean Sawyer was already out there?
After they hung up, he brooded. Could he have lied convincingly enough that Daddy would have gone away?
He shook his head even before he finished the thought. Of course not. Dean was counting on Reid leading him to his son. He had no other hope of ever finding him.
On the other hand, unless he planned to quit his job, Dean wouldn't be able to loiter in Angel Butte forever.
Wait him out,
Reid thought, knowing the only other option was to take him on in court, suing for custody of Caleb. Clearly Caleb's mother couldn't take on Dean.
Which would leave Reid the guardian of a boy simmering with hurt and rage. Yep, a recipe for disaster.
Great time to realize how desperately he wanted to see Anna.
Not to tell her any of thisâhe couldn't. Just to see her. The need was so primal, it scared the shit out of him.
You don't dare.
He told his voice of common sense where it could take its advice and picked up his phone again, scrolling to her number before he could have second thoughts. He could do this. Keep his cool and satisfy a craving.
* * *
A
NNA
KNEW
HER
eyes were red and puffy. This probably wasn't the best day for her to have agreed to have lunch with Reid. She didn't think he liked to deal with real emotion, and she was far from sure she could stay coolly composed, guarding herself. But, oh God, she'd wanted to see him, and she had felt such relief when he called that she couldn't resist saying yes.
He met her on the sidewalk outside the café, saw her face and gripped her arm, pulling her out of the way of passersby. “What's wrong?” he asked, voice low and urgent.
She'd mostly had herself together. This was what she'd been afraid of. The worry on his face undermined her composure. Tears flooded her eyes again.
“We lost a kid today.”
“Lostâ” His expression changed. “I heard there was a traffic fatality. The girl was in one of your foster homes?”
She sniffled and nodded. “I'm sorry. I should have taken a rain check, Reid. I'm not even hungry. Can we make it tomorâ”
“Did you know her well?”
All she could do was nod, knowing tears were now streaming down her face. But instead of seeming appalled, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. Even as she buried her face against his chest, she felt him turning her. Shielding her, she realized, from curious gazes.
She cried quietly and only for a minute, the most she ever allowed herself. Then she straightened away from him and fumbled in her purse for a tissue. When her hand emerged with one, Reid took it away from her and gently patted her face dry before letting her blow her nose.
The next moment, he steered her to his Expedition, parked only a few feet away. “We'll get lunch to go,” he said, opening the passenger door and urging her gently but somehow inexorably in. “I know you don't think you're hungry, but you may change your mind.”
He closed the door before she could protest, and a moment later slid in behind the wheel.
“Go where?” she asked, as if it mattered.
He surveyed her even as he turned the key in the ignition. “My house. What do you say? A&W?”
He was making her want to blubber again, but instead she laughed. “Yes. All right. The bank says it's thirty-four degrees Fahrenheit, perfect weather for a root-beer float.”
His quiet chuckle calmed her. “Why not? It's above freezing.”
Anna didn't try to talk during the short drive. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, glad of the warmth pouring out of the vents and of the man beside her. She'd been so glad for his call.
She let him order for her at the A&W and was relieved when he seemed content with silence as they waited for their food.
The drive to his place was short. Reid pulled into the driveway of a small house with a winter-brown lawn and no landscaping. A rental, she presumed; surely, if he'd bought, it would have been something more inspiring than this.
She turned her head to see him glance in the rearview mirror. His expression hardened at something he saw there.
“Excuse me a moment,” he said and got out.
Anna turned in her seat to watch as he strode down the driveway and across the street to where an equally large SUV was parked at the curb. He wrenched open the driver's-side door, and she half expected him to yank someone out. Instead, he must have said something. Given how inexpressive a person's back was, she had no idea what. An instant later, he slammed the door and walked back across the street.
It was strange how certain she felt that he was furious, given that he rarely projected his emotions and his stride was smooth. Maybe because the way he'd pulled open the door hadn't been smooth at all; her stomach had tightened at the violence of the act.
She hurriedly unbuckled her seat belt, grabbed her bag and both sacks containing their lunches, and got out of his Expedition so that she was waiting for him when he arrived.
He gripped her upper arm, his fingers uncomfortably tight. “Let's get inside.”
“Who was that?” she asked as he hustled her up the walk.
“My father.”
Anna blinked in surprise. The father with whom he had no relationship?
He
was sitting in a vehicle across the street from Reid's house, as if... Her mind groped for an explanation. As if he was conducting a stakeout?
Reid's house was no more prepossessing inside than outside. He must have brought the handsome leather sofa and recliner with him, but that was about it in the furniture department. He was currently using a wooden TV folding tray as an end table. A flat-screen television and DVD player sat atop a pile of plastic totes. Empty? Or maybe he'd lost interest in unpacking?
After shutting and locking the front door, he surveyed the room, as if seeing his home through her eyes. “Sorry. I haven't done much to settle in.”
“I know when you live aloneâ” She gave up. She lived alone, too, but creating a real home for herself had mattered to her. It was her sanctuary. Reid's place was a sanctuary in the way the bleak confines of a prison cell might be for a lifer. All his, but hardly cozy.
“Have a seat,” he said. His gaze lowered to the paper sacks she clutched. “Oh, you brought those in. Thank you. I was...distracted.”
His eyes met hers, and she saw something that might have been shame.
“It's okayâ”
“I wouldn't have brought you here if I'd known he was out there.”
“It really is okay,” she repeated. “Are you going to tell me what's going on?”
In the act of taking their lunch from her, Reid hesitated. Then he sighed and said, “I have bar stools in the kitchen. Why don't we eat there?”
She left her purse on the sofa and followed him. The kitchen was a standard rental houseâadequate but unexciting. She couldn't imagine he often bothered to cook anyway. There was a Formica breakfast bar, which was a good thing, as the dining area lacked table or chairs.
“You didn't bring much with you.”
Again he glanced around, seeming disconcerted. “No, most of what I had didn't seem worth paying to have moved. I figured I'd buy new. Just haven't gotten around to it. I was waitingâ” He stopped suddenly enough she knew he'd been about to say something he hadn't intended to tell her.
She automatically filled in the blanks.
I was waiting to decide if I wanted to stay in Angel Butte.
That had to be it.
He set out their floats and then the fries, burgers and napkins. “I hope you feel more like eating now.”
Weirdly, she did, maybe because he'd successfully distracted her from her grief.
“Well, the float at least,” she said, seeing a smile flicker on his mouth.
They sat side by side, his broad shoulder brushing hers. More distraction. She could peek down to see the way the fabric of his slacks pulled tight over impressive thigh muscles. Or sidelong to see his hands, large, strong, with long fingers and nails cut short. Hands she imagined touching her every time she saw them.
“Caleb ran away from our father's house,” Reid said suddenly.
Startled, she stared at him. “But...why is your father
here?
”
“He's got it into his head that I have Caleb.” A nerve jerked beneath one of his eyes. “How else could a teenager have made a successful getaway?” He continued to eat as if the conversation was trivial.
“They do it all the time.”
“In his arrogance, he thinks his kid couldn't have escaped him without help.”
She felt a strange tightness in her chest. She could be wrong, terribly wrong, but she'd swear he sounded pleased. Because he
had
helped his brother escape? Or only because his father was presumably enraged?
“Have you heard from Caleb?”
He looked at her. “You know I have.”
“He's calling you.”
“Yes.”
“So you do know where he is.”
“Yes.” He peeled the top off the root-beer float and stirred the ice cream within, then slurped.
“Teenagers on the streets...”
“He's somewhere safe.” The tension in his voice told her the casual way he was eating his lunch was pretense. “That's all I can tell you, Anna. Do you think I wouldn't have made sure of that much, at least?”
“No.” That horrible sense of pressure inside her eased, but only a little. “No, I know you care.”
“Maybe you think I should make him go home.”
“No, not if your father is as awful as you implied he is.”
“But you don't approve of keeping quiet about where he is.”
She turned fiercely on him. “How do you know it's safe if it isn't an approved foster home? Who's monitoring to be sure nobody is hurting him there, too? Can you swear he'd tell you?”
He'd gone very still, and she knew the answer:
no.
There was too much strain between Reid and his brother for him to be certain of any such thing.
“I know these people,” he said at last, slowly.
“Do you?” Hand shaking, she set down the cheeseburger she'd been clutching. What semblance of an appetite she'd summoned had deserted her entirely.
“Anna, decent people take in kids all the time without supervision by the court or social workers. You know that.”
“Is he here in Angel Butte where you can see for yourself?” God, she felt sick.
Reid met her stormy stare with a face set in unrevealing lines. “This isn't my secret,” he said finally.
“Sure it is. You're an adult. Your brother isn't.”
He gave a short laugh. “That as an excuse would kill any trust dead in the water.”
“Teenagers aren't always rational.” Or should she have said,
Aren't
ever
rational?
Reid only shook his head. “You don't know everything, Anna. Can't you trust me to have made the best decision?”
That stopped her. Could she? Okay, this was a hot-button issue for her, but if Reid had placed his brother temporarily with friends, was that so bad? Reason said no. The terrible fear that always lived in her said yes.
“I know it's not my business,” she mumbled.
“Unfortunately, it
is
your business,” he said ruefully. “Why do you think I haven't said anything? Given your profession, you were bound to make a judgment.”
“You think I'm rigid.”
He shook his head. “I don't know. For Caleb's sake, I don't dare find out.”
He
didn't trust
her.
Of course he didn't. He shouldn't, she was afraid. If she was told too much, would she be able to keep her mouth shut? Anna truly didn't know.
She finally took a sip of her float, discovering the ice cream had mostly melted.
“Tell me about the girl who was killed,” he said, the tenderness in his tone bringing a lump to her throat.
She talked about a child who'd come into the system when she was eight, after her father left her at a neighbor's, promising to be back within the week, but never reappearing. Nobody knew anything about a mother; the little girl thought Mommy had gone away when she was a baby. Dad was never located.
“Corinna was a little too old to appeal to people wanting to adopt, even assuming she'd have been freed for adoption. Plus, she had problems. Her father had moved them constantly, so her school attendance was spotty and she was way behind other kids her age. I think her father really loved her, though, so at least she was able to bond with people. Unfortunately, the first foster parents let her down. When they asked that she be moved, it was a huge setback. It took time, but she really thrived in the next home. This was her junior year in high school. She was a cheerleader. Did you know that?”