This Good Man. Janice Kay Johnson
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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 all—ones 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 getup—he could at least tell she had fabulous legs—but 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