“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.
CALEB 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 me—”
“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 word—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 was—a 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 anything—his window faced the wrong way—but 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, ‘What?’ 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