This Good Man. Janice Johnson Kay
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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, but— 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 say—”
“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.
* * *
ANNA 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.”
A chorus of voices greeted him.
His eyes met hers very briefly, expressing an astonishing amount given that she doubted anyone else in the room would so much as notice.
“Glad to see such a turnout,” he said, inclining his head.
“Would you like to join us?” she asked.
“No, I, uh...” He backed up. “Just thought I’d look in.”
His retreat duly noted, the audience turned back to her. Trying to put him out of her mind, Anna struggled to remember where she’d been in her familiar script. She sneaked a glance at the clock. Oh, well. With only fifteen minutes left to go, she could fill the time with questions.
When she asked if anyone had any, a gratifying number of hands shot up.
By the time she finished, she felt really good about the evening. Several people talked to her afterward and took the brochures and initial applications she’d brought. The last of them left, and she gathered up her material and notes, then started for the door. She still had ten minutes before the library closed to take a quick look at the new books. Anna was chagrined to catch herself wondering whether Reid might still be in the library.
She was reaching for the light switch when he once again filled the doorway.
“Anna.”
“Captain Sawyer.”
“Surely we’re to the first-name stage.”
She pretended to look surprised. “Are we?”
His jaw tightened.
“Did you need something?” she asked, keeping her voice pleasant. “You know that I’m more involved in supervising foster homes than in working directly with the kids. But if you have a question, I might be able to refer you to someone who can help—”
“I don’t have a question.” His irritation was obvious.
“Then?”
His jaw muscles spasmed again. “Never mind. Have a good evening, Ms. Grant.”
He was shrugging on the parka and walking toward the exit when she hurriedly followed him out into the lobby. She’d been a bitch, and all because he’d made it obvious he wasn’t interested in her. Politely.
“Captain... Reid,” she said more softly.
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to stop. He was almost to the exterior doors when he hesitated and turned. “Anna.”
Now she felt awkward. “You must have had something you wanted to talk to me about.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, as it so often was. “Call it an impulse,” he said finally.
“I’m really not in any hurry.” She didn’t move closer to him, but kept her voice down for reasons she didn’t understand. The moment seemed...significant. The two of them were very alone, though there was activity behind her in the brightly lit library proper, while headlights were coming on out in the parking lot. They were bound to be interrupted any minute; with the library closing, patrons would be streaming out, or someone would emerge from one of the restrooms. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to know why he’d hung around to talk to her.
“I have a problem with a teenager,” he said slowly. “I thought you might be an expert available for consultation.”
Her disappointment was acute. So he’d wanted her only in her professional capacity. Of course. Trying for brisk, she said, “I don’t know that I’d call myself an expert on teenagers in particular, but I’m happy to help if I can.” She did owe him one. She shifted the weight of the heavy bag slung over her shoulder and started toward him and the exit. “You’re welcome to call me, or—”
“It’s my brother.” Lines had deepened on his forehead. He looked disconcerted, as if he hadn’t meant to say that.
“A