Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
“I owe you an explanation,” he said.
“No, you don't.”
“Please,” he heard himself say. Beg.
The gray of her eyes darkened, clouded. His fault.
“All right,” she said at last. “I'll go make some coffee.” She detoured to her closet and thrust her feet into fluffy slippers, then walked right past Reid without looking at him again.
He didn't move until he heard her footsteps on the stairs and knew he was truly alone. Then he let his head fall back and strangled the bellow that rose to his throat. What emerged instead was a raw sound, nothing he recognized. He fought the desire to slam his fist into the wall again, too.
What was
wrong
with him? What was he going to say to her? Why hadn't he just left when he had the chance?
But he knew, and he wasn't being entirely unselfish. No, he didn't want to hurt her, but there was more. Adrift in so many unfamiliar feelings lately, he needed her. So quickly, she'd become essential. A lodestone. An anchor. He didn't really know, only that he wasn't sure he could maintain his sanity if he couldn't talk to her, touch her, see her.
And now there was a price to be paid.
He hated the price, but, even more, he hated feeling so mixed-up.
So out of control.
He'd been kidding himself. Tonight had been a pretense. He'd been pretending to himself a lot lately.
After a moment, he swiped his shirt up off the floor with an angry movement and thrust his arms through the sleeves. He sat on the upholstered rocker and put on socks and shoes, then looked around, feeling as if he was missing something.
His weapon. He rarely went without, but tonight he'd locked it in his glove compartment.
He had the ironic thought that he had come to her entirely unprotected.
* * *
T
HE
COFFEE
WAS
ready to pour by the time Reid appeared in her kitchen. She'd heard the toilet flush upstairs, but couldn't help wondering what else he'd been doing. Searching her drawers? Hunting for a listening device? God knew. He was paranoid enough.
Except she knew that wasn't right. The most impregnable man she had ever met might also be the most vulnerable.
Without comment, Anna filled two mugs, added cream to hers and carried them to the small dining nook. The old table she had refinished was made of sycamore, she'd been told, not one of the more common woods. She'd hand-polished it to a warm, rich color. She loved stroking the surface and feeling the tiny indentations left by a century or more of use.
She made sure to set the mugs down on woven place mats.
The four chairs were antiques, too, with caned seats. She let Reid take the one armchair, the most substantial of the four. Picking up the sugar bowl, she added a spoonful to her coffee and stirred without looking at him.
“This is something I've been thinking about recently,” he said, then gave a grunt that might have been intended to be a laugh. “Hard not to.”
She waited to hear what
this
was.
“My life was on an even keel until I learned I had a brother. I saw his name, that there'd been a court proceeding, and I felt such rage. I'd forgotten I
could
feel like that.”
Anna finally looked at him, to find that he was gazing down into his black coffee as if he'd find answers there. His hand cradled the mug.
“I told myself that was natural. I should have kept an eye on my father. That Caleb had suffered from his brutality for fifteen years was partly my fault.”
Anna's lips parted, but Reid shook his head. So he was watching her, somehow.
“On a rational level, I know that isn't true,” he said, before she could protest. “It's our father's fault. Entirely his.”
“Yes.”
“But something changed in me that day. I got in touch with Caleb, flew up to Spokane to meet him. Understood when he rejected me, said whatever I was offering was too little, too late.”
Oh, she understood that, too. Had she ever believed anyone's promises again, the way she had before a betrayed promise resulted in her sister's death? Like Reid, she knew the angry man who killed Molly was really responsible, but in her mind she'd fastened on the young social worker who'd hugged them both and said, “I'll be by often to check on you. I promise.”
A promise not kept, with fatal consequences.
“I lived for Caleb to call me,” Reid continued. He sounded almost dispassionate, yet...not. “Once I'd met him, everything changed.”
“You mean,
you
changed.”
“Yeah.” He met her eyes at last. “I quit my job. I still don't know why. I don't know why I've done much of anything since then.”
That stung. “Including starting something with me.”
“No.” His perturbation showed in eyes the color of an antique bottle. “Strangely enough, that's one of the few things I do understand.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you fighting for that kid. For Yancey. I wish I'd had someone like you. I never did. But there you were. I wantedâ” he shrugged “âto understand why you were willing to put yourself out there for kids who weren't even yours, I guess. Talking to you helps me keep it together.”
“But you're mad you need someone else to do that.”
He grimaced. “Sometimes that's true. One more thing I'm not used to feeling.”
Anna wasn't used to needing anyone, either. She did better at relationships than she suspected Reid did, but how much better? Once free of the foster-care system, she had never allowed herself to tell a soul that she'd had a sister. The reasons weren't subtle. As young as she'd been, she had blamed herself. She had tried to transfer all the blame to other people, but a small knot of guilt had continued to fester. She liked to think its existence, deep in her core, made her a better person. Better at her job. More caring.
But keeping the secret of a child's existence and her own guilt did not make her better at friendships, and she suspected it had something to do with the fact that she'd never let herself fall in love before, either. Opening yourself like that... She almost shuddered at the idea but was aware that Reid was already watching her strangely.
“Needing anyone,” she said. “That's what you're not used to.”
“Yeah.” The word came out strangled. “I thought, tonight...”
“You don't have to say it.” She didn't want to
hear
it. He didn't like knowing she was his mother confessor, so he'd tried to turn her into something else. A temporary sex partner, easy to dismiss. Maybe he hadn't even been that attracted to her. Men didn't have to be, did they? She was okay-looking, she'd invited him over here for reasons that weren't subtle. “Let's...leave it the way it was.”
A mistake
.
His whole body jolted. “What are you talking about?”
“I'm happy to talk to you anytime you want, Reid.”
Lie, lie.
“Let's not...confuse what's going on between us, okay?”
He shoved his chair back as if he was going to stand, but didn't. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, the tendons standing out. His jaw muscles spasmed. “I won't deny I'm confused, but I want you, Anna. Will you give me a chance?”
“A chance at what?” she cried, and now she was the one pushing her chair back. Fight or flight.
“I don't know!” he yelled. Then he bent his head for a moment. When he looked at her again, his eyes were dark. “Do we have to know in advance? Does anyone?”
It was weird how much shock she felt. No, of course the average man and woman had no idea when they met whether the attraction would go anywhere meaningful. What did she want, him to go down on bended knee? She imagined how suspicious she'd be if he did. They'd known each other a grand total of a month. Of course that was not what she wanted.
“You're not the only one who gets scared,” she confessed in a low voice. “I'm trying not to be a coward.”
“I've already hurt you. Saving yourself from more...that's not cowardly.”
She moistened her lips. “Isn't it?
“No.” He offered a sort of crooked smile. “It's common sense.”
“Well, then, I'm just filled with common sense.”
An emotion flashed through his eyes, too quick to pin down. “That's a no, then?” he asked.
Anna shook her head and smiled shakily. “No, that's a yes. You're right. When I invited you over tonight, I was willing to take a chance. I guess I still am.”
“God.”
He was suddenly on his feet, yanking her up and into his arms. “I thought...”
She rested her forehead on his chest and shook her head. “You were right. I was trying to back away. Tonight...you didn't seem to want me all that much. It was so...scripted. It was like you didn't even want me to touch you. You stole my courage.”
“I understand,” he said hoarsely.
Did he? She supposed she'd find out eventually.
She took a deep breath and eased back, smiling almost naturally at him. “So. Want to go cross-country skiing this weekend?”
His laugh was ragged but real. “Yeah. I'd like to go skiing with you again. Only this time I think I may make you go ahead so I can enjoy watching you.”
“And deprive me of the pleasure of watching you?”
Reid laughed again, his relaxation obvious. “How about if we take turns?”
“Deal.”
He kissed her, so gently her bones felt as if they were melting. His lips were soft, whispering across hers, playing with them, teasing them. She felt him becoming aroused again, and she certainly was, but he finally ended the kiss by touching his forehead to hers and leaving it there. He breathed, and she breathed, and finally he stepped back.
Keep it light,
Anna told herself. “I guess the question is, does your father have any Nordic equipment? Will he be able to keep up with us?”
Reid laughed again. “Unless he's taken up a new hobby, the answer is no. But it's a nice picture. He can sit and freeze his ass off in the parking lot instead.”
The idea gave her the creeps. “Would he do that?”
He shook his head. “I keep hoping he'll get bored and go home. But God knows how much vacation time he's accrued.”
“Does Caleb know what your father is doing?”
She sensed as much as saw Reid stiffen.
“He knows.”
“He must be scared.”
“I think he is,” Reid agreed, “but he doesn't want to admit as much to me.”
“He's a fifteen-year-old boy. Of course he doesn't. And to you, of all people.”
His expression was odd. “Of all people?”
“You said he looks like you.”
Reid frowned. “There's a resemblance.”
She nodded. “Growing up, he must have heard about you.”
“Probably nothing good.”
“Sure it was. You escaped. You thumbed your nose at your father. You probably assumed heroic proportions to poor Caleb, who saw himself as a victim.”
Reid stared at her.
“And then you swooped in and rescued him. He's grateful, but he's resentful, too. How can he help it?” she asked simply.
His gaze didn't waver for a long moment, until he shook his head as if baffled. “I should understand him and I don't, but somehow you do. You make it sound...obvious.”
“I could be wrong,” she warned.
“No. You're not wrong. Tell me, oh wise one, how do I break through the resentment?”
How could she say this without revealing that she needed the same from him?
Keep it simple,
she told herself. “You have to convince him that you need him, too. You're...so self-contained, it can be intimidating, Reid. And you two don't have the advantage of a lifelong relationship. He doesn't have the confidence to believe you love him. If he doesn't have anything to offer that you want, he'll assume he's nothing but an obligation you felt you had to take on.”
He grunted as if she'd dealt a blow. For a moment, his expression was naked. “I don't know what I do feel for him. What I want from him.”
“Don't you?” Anna rose to her tiptoes and kissed his rough cheek. He smelled so good she wanted to linger, but she knew the moment had come to let him go. He needed to recover his sense of self-sufficiency. Otherwise...
he
would resent her. “Sleep on it,” she murmured.
He looked at her for a long moment. “I wanted you touching me, too,” he said, then nodded and left.
CHAPTER TEN
R
EID
GLANCED
IN
the rearview mirror. Annoyingly enough, his father hung well back while still keeping a visual. Evidently he'd learned something from the two tickets he'd received so far. Even farther back, Reid spotted an unmarked police car. Now that Dean knew he was a target, he'd have seen the car, too.
Too bad. Feeling an urgent need to get away, Reid tried to figure out how to open some distance between the vehicles. Or would that be a mistake? Might his father pretend to lose him, then manage to tail him out to Bear Creek?
The traffic light ahead had been green for a long time. Reid saw his chance. Dad wouldn't dare run a red light, knowing he was being watched. Too many tickets in too short a time could be made to have consequences beyond fines. Reid could ask Chief Raynor to call his counterpart in Spokane and say,
One of your officers is making a nuisance of himself in my town. I don't know what hair he has up his butt, but the way he's driving, he's a danger to the citizens of Angel Butte, and I want him gone.
Reid eased his foot off the accelerator, biding his time. Yes. The light turned yellow. He sped up just enough to glide through the intersection right as the light turned red. His father, hovering back with another cop behind him, had no choice but to brake. Reid stepped on it, staying inside the speed limit, but barely. His first thought had been to take evasive maneuvers, but he went with his instincts and continued driving straight, opening as much distance as possible, but not making any obvious effort to lose his tail.
In the mirror, he saw the Denali leap forward with the green light, while the unmarked took a right and disappeared. Shit. Detective Rogers, who'd been on him today, had probably taken a call. Strange, though, because Reid hadn't heard anything over the police radio.
His father's big black SUV closed fast. He'd seen that he had lost his pursuer and was taking advantage of the freedom. Reid was going thirty-five miles an hour; his father had to be pushing it at fifty or more.
And then, suddenly, flashing lights were there as a marked squad car burst out of a cross street. Chance? Or had Rogers taken the initiative to set up a trap?
Strike three.
Grinning, Reid imagined his father's fury as he slowed and pulled overâand watched his son vanish into the distance. Reid turned, then turned again, finally working his way back toward Arrow Lake, the city-operated airport and the route that took him out to the old resort.
Maybe this was stupid, but he kept thinking about what Anna had said last night.
Actually, he'd done nothing
but
think about Anna. When he wasn't remembering what she'd said, he relived the experience of making love with her. As a result, he'd been half-aroused all day.
Now he had to force his mind back to his plan.
Once she'd laid it out, he could understand all too well what Caleb must be thinking and feeling. Reid had always thought of his own, seemingly irrational resentment of the Hales in the early days as generalized anger. The minute Anna started talking about Caleb feeling like a victim, Reid had identified. Instantly, powerfully.
Yes.
Reid, too, had hated the knowledge that someone else had had to rescue him because he was too helpless to get himself out of trouble. In fact, he'd loathed the feeling of helplessness so much, he'd determined on both conscious and unconscious levels that he'd never let himself need anyone as much.
Listening to Anna, he'd also understood immediately how crucial a feeling of reciprocity was. In his case, that had never been a possibility. The Hales
hadn't
needed him. They had come to care about him, but he was only one of many kids they took in. Succeeding with him would give them a feeling of validation, but Reid personallyâthe sullen teenage boy he'd beenâhad been more in the nature of a job to them than anything.
For all that he couldn't get it out of his head, Reid didn't like remembering last night's scene. He hadn't yet let himself come to terms with what it meant that he'd humbled himself for Anna. Or the fact that the concept of reciprocity wasn't only an issue between him and his brother. He knew he'd have to confront that truth eventually, but...one thing at a time.
Anna could wait. She'd said she would give him another chance. He thought she'd meant it.
Today, he needed to focus on Caleb. Reid felt an urgency to see his brother he didn't entirely understand. But now he had his chance and he was taking it.
No other traffic was visible when Reid turned off the road. Winter had deepened the potholes in the quarter-mile-long, overgrown driveway that ended in front of the old lodge. As usual, he saw a boy start to melt out of sight behind one of the derelict pickup trucks, then reappear when he recognized Reid behind the wheel. Roger's truck was missing, as, presumably, was Roger.
Reid nodded a hello to the kidâPalmer, he thoughtâas he got out, then took the porch steps two at a time. His gaze fell on the deep scar in the door left by the knife blade. Of the tricks so far, that one made him the most uneasy. He was frustrated, of course, because it had happened right under his nose. More than that, though, it had made plain the reality they weren't dealing just with someone who enjoyed setting fires, bad as that was. No, they were being taunted by someone who was saying,
I can get to you anytime, any way I want. Are you scared yet?
Whoever he was, he could do much, much worse than he had so far. In fact, an escalation was inevitable. Somebody could die next time.
Reid grimaced. That fear might explain his intense need to see Caleb. To try to make things better between them.
He rapped his knuckles on the heavy door, then opened it without waiting for an answer. This being midday, half a dozen boys sat at various places along the long, cafeteria-style tables, while two others were planted in front of desktop computers. Paula had been leaning over Truong's shoulder pointing something out in a book open in front of him, but she straightened and smiled.
“Reid! Good to see you.”
Caleb was one of the boys at the table with an open book and papers strewn about. His expression was first startled then wary.
“Paula.” Reid nodded again as he cut between tables. “Boys.” He grimaced at the sight of what Truong was studying. “Geometry,” he said, feeling sympathy.
“Who ever uses this shit?” the kid asked plaintively.
Paula leveled a schoolmarm look at Reid, who made a valiant effort.
“Uh...engineers. Actually,” he admitted, “even cops do sometimes.”
“Cops?” Truong echoed in disbelief. Everyone stared at him.
Talking about a sharpshooter's calculations probably wasn't appropriate. Fortunately, there were other examples. “Yeah, you know when a major car accident happens? To understand how it occurred and which driver bears what degree of fault, we have to study the scene. We draw lines on the pavement. Take measurements. Determine things like speed and trajectory.”
He'd helped do that, and it was a grisly job when there'd been fatalities. Nothing like trying to determine how fast a drunk driver was going when she crossed the highway median and struck another vehicle, killing a child. He didn't let any of that show on his face.
“Mind if I borrow Caleb for a few minutes?” he asked Paula.
“Sure, no problem. Caleb, did you finish the worksheet?”
He shrugged. “Except for number fourteen.”
“I don't get it, either,” another boy said. A third chimed in.
Paula smiled. “Then we'll wait and talk about it when Caleb gets back.”
Caleb swung his leg over the bench and slouched his way to Reid, who led him through the kitchen to the back door.
“Let's walk along the creek,” he said.
His brother grunted and reached for a down vest hanging in the mudroom that formed the back exit from the kitchen.
More snow lay on the ground at the lodge than in town, and last night it had frozen again. Right now, the sun felt almost warm, which meant slush. Reid wore boots, though, and saw that Caleb did, as well. Neither had on gloves. Reid shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka. For a few minutes, the squelch of their footsteps was the only sound.
“Dad's still in town,” he said finally. “He's doing his damnedest to follow me everywhere I go.”
Alarm flared on his brother's face. “Then why'd you come out here?”
“I shook him.” He smiled grimly and explained his strategy.
“He's gotten three tickets?” Caleb was clearly savoring the idea. “That's awesome!”
Reid let himself grin. “I thought so. I'm hoping he'll have had enough soon and go home.”
“If he's following you, that means he still doesn't know where I am.”
“Likely,” Reid agreed, “but it's also conceivable he's playing us. Setting up his innocence.”
“Is that what you think?”
They passed the last cabin. From here, Reid could see a rooftop across the creek and downstream a hundred yards or so. Otherwise, the landscape was pristine, painted in white and the deep green of pine boughs and the clear gray of running water. He took a breath of the cold, clear air and felt a primitive kind of satisfaction. He'd missed the Northwest.
“No.” He paused to look out at the stream. “I don't. Tell me if you disagree, but I don't see him having any patience or subtlety. To the contrary, one of his problems is having lousy impulse control. I could never figure out why it hadn't gotten him in trouble on the job.”
“It has.” Caleb kicked a rock and they both watched as it rolled with a small splash into the water. “He's been suspended twice in the last, I don't know, couple of years. The union goes to bat for him, but he was demoted not that long ago.”
“And took it out on you.” Reid's jaw set.
Those still-too-thin shoulders jerked.
“I want you to know that no matter what, I won't let that son of a bitch take you back.” This was the first and maybe most important thing he knew he must say. “I thought you'd be better off here with the Hales and other boys your age than you would be with me, but if need be, I won't hesitate to go for custody.”
Caleb kept his head down and didn't respond.
Reid cleared his throat. “I'm not good with emotion. But there's something else I want you to know.” He waited until his brother lifted his head to look at him. “It's lonely not having family. I don't usually let myself think about it, but since I found out about youâ” It was hard not to squirm like an awkward kid. Man, this was hard to do. Lying in bed last night, he'd rehearsed and revised this speech a dozen times. To his own ears, he sounded falsely hearty, but he was doing the best he could. “I moved to Angel Butte to be near you because I hoped we'd be family. You may not want that. If not, you don't owe me anything.” That part was important to get out. “But think about it. Unless your mom comes back in the picture, we're pretty much all each other has.”
Caleb stared for a long time. He seemed...stunned. Who could blame him? Reid thought. Unless he'd been a lot luckier than Reid, he wouldn't be any better at talking about how he felt.
“You're saying this because you think you'll soften me up so I'll tell you stuff I wouldn't otherwise,” he said finally with acute suspicion.
That stung a little, but Reid kept his stance relaxed and shook his head. “No. I owe the Hales. Now that I live nearby, for them and for the other boys, I'd be trying to find out who's doing this no matter what. But I'm here because of you, and my biggest priority is keeping you safe.” Holding that long, disbelieving stare took an effort of will, but Reid managed it despite the discomfort.
Anna had damn well better not have misled him.
But suddenly Caleb ducked his head again. “Okay,” he mumbled.
“You want to keep walking?”
“I guess.”
“I've been seeing this woman,” Reid heard himself say, before the jolt of shock hit. This wasn't anything he'd rehearsed. He had no idea if talking about Anna to Caleb was a good idea or a really, really bad one.
Caleb snuck a look at him. “You ever been...like, married or anything?”
“No.”
God, no,
he thought, but didn't say. That wasn't what he wanted for his brotherâto grow up believing himself incapable of commitment and love. “I never thought I'd want to get that close to someone,” he said, speaking slowly.
Hearing the past tense jarred him. The fact he'd used it meant something.
Caleb looked as astonished as he felt. “But sheâthis womanâis making you think about it?”
“I...don't know.” A sharp pain crept up his neck toward his skull.
Hell.
“Anna has shaken some of my assumptions, though.”
Caleb's nod was awkward.
They walked in silence for a good five minutes, until they emerged into a clearing surrounding a house. No one appeared to be home, but in concert they turned and started back.
“There's one guy who kind of freaks me out,” Caleb said suddenly. “He's... I think he goes outside at night sometimes.”
Careful not to jump on that, Reid nodded. “Is this the one who lives in the lodge, too?”
“TJ. He's really tense. Mad all the time. He doesn't like me and I don't like him.”
“Do any of the boys talk about their parents?”
“Not really. I mean, you see stuff.” Caleb was quiet for a minute. “I don't like Damon, either, but he's got some majorly horrible scars on his back. Someone beat him bad.”
A kid.
Reid's hands balled into fists in his pockets. “A few years ago, I was one of the investigators looking into a religious sect. Anybody who âsinned' was whipped in front of the whole congregation. A teenage girl who sneaked away and had sex with her boyfriend was stoned to death.”