Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
Reid hoped he'd hid how very uncomfortable he was about that kind of scrutiny. He'd done his damnedest to deflect personal questions and talk instead about what he saw as his professional role. One thing he couldn't do was admit he'd ever lived in Angel Butte. Instead he'd implied he had vacationed here in the past, liked the area, jumped when he saw the job opening. No, he wasn't a fisherman or hunter and he'd never alpine skiied, but he did cross-country ski, hike and kayak. Yes, he was looking forward to the recreational opportunities.
“Clean air is good, too,” he'd said, and the quote appeared in the paper. As had a photo of him that he'd scrutinized for several minutes this morning, the newspaper spread open on his table. Even though he saw that face in the mirror every morning when he shaved, he hardly recognized himself in print. It was a peculiar experience.
He had very few pictures of himself. When he had run away from home, it hadn't occurred to him to take anything like baby pictures along. He'd brought a couple pictures of his mother, that was allâones he'd secreted away from his father. As for the rest of the family photos, he had no idea whether his father would have kept them in a box in the closet or burned them. Maybe he'd ask Caleb sometime. Reid knew the Hales had taken pictures, but not a lot. He'd never had reason to go to a professional photographer. The few times he'd appeared in the newspaper, he'd been caught as part of a scene, or, a couple of times, when he was giving a statement or was arriving at or leaving court. The focus hadn't been so intensely on
him.
Now he put the last grocery bag in the rear cargo area and slammed the door. He was glad to see Anna leaving the store just then and strode to meet her.
“Oh!” She looked shy. “I wondered how to find you.”
“I got done first.”
She stopped in front of a bright blue Toyota RAV4, one he thought was several years old but still in good condition, and unlocked the rear hatch. His hands were large enough to grab the handles of several bags at once, and he made short work of unloading.
“Why don't you come with me?” he suggested. “I can bring you back to your car later.”
“There's a Starbucks inside the store.”
He'd noticed it. The tiny tables in the middle of traffic weren't what he had in mind.
“There has to be someplace we won't be on display.”
She eyed him curiously. “I saw you in the paper this morning.”
“You and every other person shopping today.” He knew he sounded grumpy. He had an odd moment of wondering whether her interest in that article had been more than casual and whether her eyes had lingered on the photo.
With a smirk, she inclined her head to draw his attention to two women passing, both of whom were staring.
He was getting good at those polite nods.
“Like I said, I'd enjoy a cup of coffee a lot more if people weren't gaping at me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Intrigued, he said, “What?”
“I just...” Her cheeks were a little pink. She made a face. “I was going to say, what's to stop
me
gaping at you?”
He grinned. “Gape to your heart's content.”
Yeah, he liked this lighthearted exchange. No ghosts here. He wasn't sure if she was flirting with him or not, but she had said yes to coffee, and that meant something. He was getting more interested by the minute in finding out what she wore beneath today's close-fitting jeans, knee-high boots and thigh-length sweater over a turtleneck. Slightly more revealing than her utilitarian work getupâhe could at least tell she had fabulous legsâbut not much. Of course, given the temperature outside, everyone was dressed in bulky layers.
Seeing her looking more stylish today, though, he was close to ruling out the serviceable white undergarments. The field was now open. Her personality had enough contradictions, he had no idea. Fortunately, he liked mysteries.
Besides, he could strip off panties of any color or material just as quickly.
“Why don't I drive?” she suggested. “I gather you haven't been in town very long. Do you know where to go?”
“I'd stop at the first place that said
coffee,
” he admitted, not telling her he'd spent his first day in town doing nothing but driving around. He was like a cat, needing to know his territory and where the outermost edges of it were.
Angel Butte had changed one hell of a lot since he had left after turning eighteen, and nearly as much since his last visit when he was twenty-four or -five. Then, it had still been a small town. The mall, Walmart, Staples and the rest weren't here. An annexation had extended the city limits to take in a whole lot of new development, as well as empty country he had no doubt would be developed in the next ten years. Many of the new homes weren't for full-time residents, which made Angel Butte different from anyplace else he'd ever lived. He imagined it as something of a ghost town during the in-between seasons: after the ski lifts shut down, but before hiking trails were open and fishing licenses issued, and then again in the fall when the reverse happened.
Reid suspected Anna was challenging him by offering to drive. Cops were notorious control freaks who didn't like being driven by someone else. The generalization applied to him, all right. Still, he figured he was safe with her behind the wheel given what a short distance they had to travel.
“Sure,” he said, hiding his smile at her surprise.
Turned out she wasn't a bad driver at all. He only compressed the floorboards with his right foot a couple of times and grabbed for the armrest once. She laughed at him that time.
They ended up at a place called The Butte, only a couple blocks from the public safety building that housed the police station, but on a side street. He'd seen it, but not yet been in. From the length of the line inside, business was bustling.
“Best coffee in town,” she told him as they waited. He listened to conversations around them and decided most of the people were locals rather than tourists.
She looked at him askance when he ordered an Americano and then narrowed her eyes and said, “Not a word,” before asking for a gingerbread latte.
“A froufrou drink,” he murmured in her ear.
She accepted it from the teenager behind the counter and breathed in happily. “Dessert and caffeine all in one. I
love
gingerbread.”
“I'm not sure I've ever had any,” he remarked as they wended between tables to an open booth on the side.
“Never eaten gingerbread? Not even a gingerbread man?”
Her outrage made him smile. “I don't think so.”
Even though he would have remained more anonymous if he had sat with his back to the door, he maneuvered her so he could sit facing the room. He liked knowing what was behind him.
At first they chatted about Angel Butte, edging gradually to the kind of questions people asked when they wanted to know each other: What do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Where did you grow up? How'd you end up here?
They both admitted to being readers, enjoying some movies. Both were runners, although she was taking a step-aerobics class right now instead. He worked out at a gym, too, and played basketball and racquetball.
“I've already played in a few pickup games at the Y,” he said, smiling slyly. “Beat the mayor himself at racquetball.”
“Noah Chandler?” She looked intrigued before grinning at him. “Well, you ought to be able to. He's got to be too muscle-bound to be fast.”
“I wouldn't say that. It was a hard-fought game.”
He admitted to having grown up in Spokane, then repeated the lies he'd told the reporter about having vacationed in central Oregon.
“I've lived all over Oregon,” she said, her lashes veiling her eyes and making him wonder what she didn't want him to see. “I finally graduated from high school in Bend.”
Reid nodded; Bend was the largest city in central Oregon and only about a forty-five-minute drive from Angel Butte.
“Parents still in the area?” he asked casually.
He'd have sworn the gray of her eyes darkened, as if a cloud had passed over the sun.
Oh, damn,
he thoughtâhe'd been right about the ghosts.
“I grew up in foster homes,” she said after a minute, so casually he realized she must say this often. Which made sense. Telling her story would be a good way to connect with the kids on the job. “My parents split up when I was three or four, I think. I never saw my father again, and I barely remember my mother. She couldn't cope on her own.”
“Was she abusive?” A familiar ball of anger and something else formed in his chest. He was disturbed at how clearly he could see that little girl, skin and bones, pale hair and the eyes that were still huge and haunting.
But she shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Just...negligent.”
He curled his hand around his coffee to keep from reaching for her. “Did you miss her?”
Tiny crinkles formed on her forehead as she seemed to ponder. “I suppose I might have. I don't remember.”
“You've never looked for her? Or your father?”
“No.” That lusciously sexy voice had gone hard. “I have no interest in them.”
“I suppose this answers the question of how you chose your profession,” he said thoughtfully.
“I consider it a vocation.”
No nine-to-five for her. Apparently the two of them had something in common. Unlike most cops, he'd hungered for the domestic-abuse calls. He'd never dreamed about working Homicide; he wanted to bring down the assholes like his father.
Of course, he'd found himself arresting not only men but women, too. Not quite as many, but plenty of them. Mostly for child abuse, but occasionally they were the aggressors against the men in their lives, too.
“I've...always felt the same about my own job,” he said slowly, zinged by the sense of shock and, yeah, panic that came when he let himself wonder what in hell he had thought he was doing here in Angel Butte. The Family Violence Unit had been his goal from the minute he joined the Orange County P.D. in Southern California. It had been the next thing to a religious vocation for him, although he'd never used that word before. Now he was an administrator who would rarely deal directly with people in crisis. Supervising major investigations, sure, but also juggling the demands of different departments for paper clips, printer ink cartridges, air filters for the police cars and more clerical help.
God help him.
“What about your parents?” Anna asked softly, dragging him back to the present.
He sat very still, doing his best to give away nothing. “My mother died when I was ten. My father...is also a cop. Spokane P.D.”
“You took after him.”
“No.” There was more bite in the one word than he'd meant to put there. Her eyes widened. “I consider myself his antithesis,” Reid said calmly. “He's a son of a bitch.”
“I...see.”
He was afraid she did. Those extraordinary eyes gazed at him as if he were a crystal ball and the mist within was clearing to reveal what she wanted to know. The sensation made his skin crawl.
Why had he started this, against his original instinct? It wasn't only her eyes that were spooky; it was
her.
A casual sexual relationship wasn't going to be possible with this woman.
He made a production out of draining the last of his coffee and then glanced at his watch. “We probably shouldn't linger too long. Our frozen food will melt.”
She didn't call him on the absurdity of that, when the outside temp might conceivably have reached a not-so-balmy forty degrees Fahrenheit. Instead, she took a long drink of her latte and said politely, “You're right. I'm ready if you are.”
On the drive back to the Safeway parking lot, he asked how long she'd lived in Angel Butte. Seven years. Although she enjoyed cross-country skiing, she'd never taken up alpine. She hadn't learned as a child and couldn't afford the sport now even if she'd wanted to try it. He felt guilty for asking, when she had already told him she'd grown up in foster homes. Of course she hadn't had the opportunity.
When she came to a stop right behind his SUV and said “Thank you for the coffee” in a tone that told him she knew his interest had cooled, Reid felt...regret. He didn't like knowing he'd probably hurt her feelings.
Be smart.
“My pleasure,” he said, opening his door. “Glad I ran into you.”
She said something as meaningless. He nodded, shut the door and dug his keys out of his pocket as he walked around the driver side of the Expedition. By the time he got in and glanced in the rearview mirror, she was gone.
Out of sight, out of mind, he told himself, but his chest constricted uncomfortably.
All the more reason to stay clear of her. Thinking hard these past nights since his Wednesday visit to the shelter, he'd recognized that Paula might be right. A part of him did want to love this newfound brother and be loved in return. If so, it was a major step for him. The kind of intimacy it took to really love a woman... No. He did know his own boundaries. Anna Grant was outside them.
CHAPTER THREE
C
ALEB
LEAPED
UP
from the bench and stared at Paula in outrage. “You think I set the fire.”
“No.” Her gaze was kind, but when she said, “Sit down,” he didn't mistake her firmness. He'd already figured out that, despite first impressions, Paula was the hard-ass, Roger the easy touch of the two.
“Then why are you asking meâ”
“All we're trying to do is determine whether any of you saw anything. If possible, we'd like to be sure none of you boys set the fire.”
“Why would we?”
She gave him a little lecture about how arson was a form of acting out and how some of the boys who came here were troubled. Good wordâ
troubled.
He hadn't yet asked anyone else why they were here, but he knew it had to be shit as bad as he'd experienced. And, like had happened with him, the police and courts had screwed them over, too. That was what this place wasâa last resort.
Hey, pun.
Caleb repeated that he'd been asleep until he heard Roger bellowing for help. He'd looked out his window but hadn't seen anythingâhis window faced the wrong wayâbut then he'd stuck his head out into the hall to find out what was going on.
“I heard you yelling there was a fire, to hurry and get dressed, so I hammered on TJ's door.” TJ was the other guy who had a room upstairs at the lodge. Caleb didn't really like TJ, who had a major chip on his shoulder and an explosive temper. “He yelled, âWhat?' You know, like he was pissed I'd woken him up.”
Paula nodded. TJ was always pissed. It was March now, and Caleb had been here since right after Christmas. TJ had already been here a couple of months then. He was probably stuck living in the lodge because no one wanted to share a cabin with him. Caleb had a really bad feeling they'd end up paired whether he liked it or not.
“Was he dressed when he came out?” she asked.
Caleb cast his mind back. “No, he was buck naked. His hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other. I told him there was a fire and Roger needed help putting it out. He sort of shrugged and went back into his room.” TJ had eventually showed up to help haul buckets of water from the creek.
“You were a big help fighting the fire,” Paula said. “Thank you.”
“You weren't using that cabin anyway, right?”
She gave him sort of a funny look. “No, but the flames could have spread. And what if the same somebody decides to set another fire?”
“How do you know it wasn't, like, bad wiring or something?” he asked, feeling awkward but not liking what she was suggesting. What if whoever it was set the lodge on fire next time?
“Didn't you smell the gasoline?”
He frowned, remembering. “I guess. I thought it was propane. I mean, there's a tank outside the lodge.”
“But not the cabins.”
He nodded after a minute.
“And you know your brother was here this morning to take a look. He showed Roger where the fire started. It wasn't near an electrical outlet or in the kitchen area where there were any appliances.”
Your brother.
He hadn't gotten used to those words. They made him feel...twitchy. As if he couldn't sit still.
“I know you boys are talking about it.” Paula sounded weary. “I wouldn't normally encourage any of you to rat on each other, but this is serious. Even scary. Please come to Roger or meâor Reid,” she added, “if you hear anything that makes you uneasy.”
That was one of the reasons he wasn't settling in here. It was knowing the only reason they'd taken him was Reid. That Reid was like their
real
son, and Caleb was only a favor they were doing for him.
He nodded, even though he didn't know if he was really agreeing to anything, and asked, “Can I go?”
“Yes. Thank you, Caleb. If you see Isaac, will you send him in?”
“Um...sure.”
He went outside to look for Diego, who'd been grilled right before Caleb. Fun Sundayâtaking turns facing an inquisition. And after they'd all busted their asses helping to put out the fire last night.
He found Diego splitting wood, watched by two of the other guys, Damon and Isaac. They must have been talking, because they all turned and looked at him.
“Paula wants you,” Caleb said to Isaac, a lanky, beak-nosed seventeen-year-old. He was some kind of math genius who'd helped Caleb with his geometry the other day.
Isaac nodded and left. He never had much to say. He'd probably been doing nothing but listening to what the other two were saying.
Diego lifted the ax and swung.
Thud.
A chunk of wood split and fell from the big round of fir they used as a base.
Damon glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure Isaac was really out of earshot. “Palmer doesn't think Isaac was in his cabin when Roger woke everyone up,” he said.
“What?” Diego stared at him, the ax dangling from his hand. “How would Palmer know? He's, like, two cabins away.”
“That's what he says. Only Apollo came out.”
“Did anyone ask Apollo?”
Damon sneered. “Like he'd say. They're tight.”
“Tight enough to lie about something like that?” Caleb asked, almost reluctantly.
“Shit, yeah!”
“I don't know.” Diego sounded doubtful.
“What?” Damon stepped forward, his stance aggressive. “You're saying Palmer's lying?”
“I'm saying maybe Isaac was sound asleep and slower to get up. He's been here, like, three years. If he wanted to set fires, why wouldn't he have done it before?”
“Who says he hasn't? None of the rest of us have been here that long.”
Caleb shook his head. “This is stupid. We don't know anything. We shouldn't be making accusations because somebody said somebody else said.”
Damon swung an angry stare at Caleb. “Who are you calling stupid?”
Caleb balanced on his feet in case this asshole decided to make it physical. “Nobody. I'm saying we should stick together, not whisper about each other.”
“You would say that.”
Caleb was getting pissed. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means
you're
new here. You could have gone out easy. Come back in just as easy.”
“I don't set fires,” he said flatly, when what he wanted to do was plant his fist in the guy's mouth.
“Yeah? We don't know you.”
“You mean,
you
don't know shit,” Caleb shot back.
Damon launched himself. A moment later, they were rolling on the ground and Caleb had the satisfaction of feeling his knuckles connecting with Damon's nose.
* * *
C
ALEB
'
S
SPLIT
LIP
had crusted over. The black eye had faded to mauve and puce, but was still visible. Reid assessed the range of colors. The fight must have taken place in the neighborhood of three days ago. Today was Wednesday, so the injury had likely happened Sunday after the fire. When suspicion had begun to gather.
“What?” Caleb snarled. “I suppose you're here to give me some big lecture about being a good boy and not fighting while your best buds the Hales are being generous enough to give me a home.”
They were in the front room of the lodge, temporarily alone. Determined to hide the tension his brother had awakened with his obvious hostility, Reid leaned back where he sat on the sagging sofa and clasped his hands behind his head. “I didn't know you'd been in a fight until I saw your face,” he said mildly. “I came to see you.”
“Oh, right. Like they didn't call you the minute it happened.”
Reid shook his head, his experienced eye dating the progression of the bruises. “Has to have been a few days.”
Caleb stared stubbornly at him.
Reid sighed. “This is not a school. They don't call me every time you get in trouble.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Your privilege.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to tell me?”
It was disconcerting seeing the sullenness gathered on a face that looked so much like his own. Caleb must be giving the Hales flashbacks. “What if I say no?” his brother challenged him.
“That's your privilege, too.”
They sat in silence for what had to be a minute. Clattering came from the kitchen, but nobody appeared. It wasn't Paula; Reid knew she'd driven up to Bend to load up on basics at Costco.
Caleb glanced toward the kitchen, but the two of them were far enough away to go unheard.
“There's been a lot of shit talked since the fire,” he mumbled. “This one guy said I'm the newest, so it must be me who set it.” He shrugged. “I told him I didn't, and to shut up.”
Reid's mouth quirked. “He didn't like that, I gather.”
“He'll know better than to go for me next time. I broke his nose.”
God. How was he supposed to handle this? A fatherly lecture wouldn't go over well, assuming he knew how to give one. All
their
father would have wanted to know was why Caleb had let a fist get through his defenses.
I'm not his father. I'm his brother.
Yeah, no on-the-job experience there, either. The feeling of helplessness didn't sit well with Reid.
“So you know how to fight” was the best he could come up with.
Caleb bent his head so Reid couldn't see his face. “I guess.”
“You miss being on sports teams?”
Caleb shrugged.
This was going nowhere. Reid decided to let it drop and get to what he'd come out here for. Besides visiting his brother, making sure he was okay.
“Dad called.”
“What?”
The boy's head snapped up. “You mean, that stuff about him thinking you were dead was bullshit?”
“He never thought that,” Reid said flatly. “He just didn't want to give you any ideas.”
Caleb shook his head as if dazed. “Wait. He knows where you
are?
”
“After I turned eighteen and started college, my guess is he's always tracked me. I thought about changing my name, but I never did. I figured, what could he do to me?” Reid's turn to shrug. He didn't like saying this, but had to. “He asked if I had you.”
Fear darkened Caleb's eyes. “What did you say?”
“No, of course.” That wasn't all he'd said. He'd also said mockingly,
So you lost another son. Guess you didn't learn anything the first time around.
It might have been smarter to ask who the hell Caleb was. He doubted his father would have bought the pretense, though. If he'd kept checking on Reid over the years, Dean Sawyer would know his oldest son was a cop. They were a paranoid bunch, and his father was more paranoid than most, as well as arrogant. He was bound to assume Reid had remained wary enough to keep checking up on
him.
Caleb jumped to his feet, his face pinched with fear. “What if he comes here looking for me?”
Reid let his hands fall to his sides. “What if he does? Not many people know what the Hales' place is. It's way out of town. How could he possibly find you here?”
“I don't know, butâ Jesus.”
Reid straightened. “It does mean you need to stick close to home. Don't go into town for now. If a car pulls into the driveway, stay out of sight. If Dad comes down to Oregon to look around, he'll find out I live alone. The job was a promotion for me. There's no reason for him to question why I moved here. I haven't told anyone about you or my connection to the shelter.”
“You don't know what you're talking about! He won't let me go.”
Reid added steel to his voice. “You're already gone. You told me that yourself. Remember?”
“If he shows up, some of the guys would tell him in a second I'm here!” Caleb's panic was unreasoning. He backed away and almost stumbled over a side table.
“And why is that?” Reid asked.
His brother's face twisted into an ugly expression and he let loose an expletive. “Has to be my fault, right?”
Reid rose to his feet. “I didn't sayâ”
“Yeah, well, you've warned me.” His gaze raked Reid. “Nothing like having a brother who'll nobly risk everything for my sake.”
The churning inside felt like heartburn or something worse. Reid held Caleb's gaze. “You want to come home with me right now? Take Daddy on? Is that it?”
“No!” the boy shouted. “I don't need you, okay? Thank you for coming. Goodbye.”
The front door of the lodge slammed behind him. Reid was left standing alone, baffled, frustrated, angry...and hurt.
* * *
A
NNA
DIDN
'
T
REMEMBER
ever setting eyes on Reid Sawyer's predecessor in real life. On television when he was campaigning, but that was different.
So she couldn't believe it when Reid appeared at the back of the room when she was giving a talk at the library Wednesday night. “The Joys and Frustrations of Providing Foster Care: An Honest Q & A,” the flyer had said. She'd been pleasantly surprised to have an audience of twelve people. Who knew, she might get a new foster home out of this group.
She'd been rolling along, being truthful but upbeat, even eliciting some laughs, when a flicker of movement drew her gaze to the man who'd paused in the open doorway leading to the lobby. It had been only a few days since he'd stung her by making it plain he wouldn't be calling. What were the odds they'd happen to run into each other three times in one week?
Hair tousled and wearing jeans and an unzipped parka with gloves sticking out of one pocket, he might have gone unrecognized by her audience if she hadn't felt such a flare of...something. Anger, she told herself, and knew better.
With malice aforethought, she said in a ringing voice, “Captain Sawyer. How good of you to stop in.” Her entire audience swiveled to stare at the newcomer. “Folks, this is our new Angel Butte Police Department captain of Investigative and Support Services. Say hi.”