This Good Man

“No. Not just like Daddy. I’m currently a sergeant in charge of the Family Violence Unit. I put men like Daddy in jail.” He sounded hard and didn’t care.

“Do you have kids?”

Reid shook his head.

Caleb nodded as if he understood. “I guess you’re, like, too busy for me,” he said after a minute, no longer looking at Reid.

“Yeah, I probably am, but...that’s not the main reason I think you’d be better off with these people I know. People who took me in when I ran away from home.” Even though he was looking down, he was aware the kid was listening. He couldn’t think of any way to say this but to come right out with the truth. “What you need isn’t anything I have in me. I’m what our father made of me. Damaged.”

The boy shook his head and laughed, the sound corrosive. Then he shot to his feet and looked down at Reid. “What a crock of shit. What you are is a coward. Daddy made you a coward,” he taunted.

The stab slid home. Reid’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t let his expression change. This wasn’t about him. “The place I want to take you...it’s good. These people saved my life.”

Caleb kept shaking his head.

Reid took a business card from his pocket and held it out. “This has my phone number on it. Call me when you decide.”

“I’ve decided.” His gaze was flat and emotionless. “Mr. Damaged Goods. You’re no use to me.”

“Take the card.”

The boy wasn’t proof against the voice of command. He hesitated only a moment, then grabbed it and shoved it into his jeans pocket without even looking at it.

“When you need me, I’ll come.”

Eyes so much like his own swept over him in one last scathing look. Then Caleb shook his head again. “Sure,” he said. “See you around.” He turned and sauntered away, back toward the mall entrance. Over his shoulder, he added, “Not,” and kept going.

Reid didn’t move for a long time. Whatever he felt wasn’t anything he recognized. All he knew was that he didn’t like it.

Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back until it bumped the wall. He’d blown it, but if there was another way, he couldn’t see it.

Usually he was patience personified. Impatience implied an emotional component he lacked.

Something new.

A month. If he didn’t hear from Caleb within a month, he’d try again.

And then again. And again.

This was his brother, who had no one else.

* * *

SEVENTEEN DAYS LATER—and Reid had been counting—his mobile phone rang. Sitting at his desk, he’d been concentrating on the long history of allegations against a husband and father one of his detectives had just arrested. Tearing his gaze from the computer monitor, Reid picked up the phone. He didn’t recognize the number, but he knew the area code. His pulse quickened. “Sawyer here,” he said.

“Uh, this is Caleb.” The voice was slurred. Drunk? No. Coming from a mouth that was swollen. Maybe missing a tooth or two. “You know. Your brother.”

“I know who you are,” Reid said gently, even as sickening rage filled him. “You ready to go?” His hand was on the computer mouse already; he went online and straight to Kayak. He could buy an airline ticket within the next minute or two.

“So ready, I’ve packed my duffel and I’m gone.”

“Then you can count on me.” Reid chose a flight, and they set up their meet.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d arranged to take two days of vacation and was walking out of the police station. To hell with any lingering qualms he felt about his course of action. He was doing what he had to do to save his brother.

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3370cb15-bc49-523e-a9b6-3def2e8f9de6)

“DON’T TELL ME to wait twenty-four hours.” Anna Grant gazed unflinchingly at the desk sergeant who was trying to make her go away. He should know he was wasting his time; he and she had butted heads before. “I’m not suggesting Yancey was abducted. He took off on his own. Twenty-four hours would give him time to disappear.” She leaned forward over the counter to emphasize her words. “Right this minute, he’s probably out on the highway waving his thumb. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold out there.” March was the dead of winter on this side of the Cascade Mountains. “He needs to be picked up now.”

“Ms. Grant.” Middle-aged and graying, Sergeant Shroutt looked exasperated and frazzled. “We’ve been through this before. You know there’s nothing we can do yet. No crime has been committed. You have no reason to think this kid is in danger—”

“No reason?” She hoped her eyes were shooting sparks. “This kid is thirteen years old. He’s so small for his age, he looks about ten. What if your own son that age was out on that highway, Sergeant?”

“Of course I wouldn’t like—”

“Wouldn’t you think the police should be concerned?”

“What seems to be the problem, ma’am?” asked a deep, calm voice from unnervingly close to her left.

Even as she swung around to face the newcomer, she took an involuntary step back. She hated the fear instinct that surfaced when someone startled or sneaked up on her. Anna prayed it didn’t show on her face.

“Captain.” The sergeant’s relief was obvious. “I was just explaining to Ms. Grant—”

“—why no one in the Angel Butte Police Department can be bothered to help me find a thirteen-year-old boy who has run away from his foster home and has no place to go that any sane adult would consider safe,” Anna concluded, even as she evaluated the tall man who stood on her side of the counter, but who was evidently a member of the department, and a senior one at that.

He was also an extraordinarily handsome man, his face all angles and planes, nothing soft about it except possibly his mouth, which she was annoyed at herself for noticing. His eyes were... She couldn’t tell. A dark hazel or unusual shade of brown, maybe. A gray suit fit as if it had been tailored for his big body. The knot of the conservative tie he wore was just a little loose, as if he’d given it a tug recently. Only when her gaze lowered did she notice the badge clipped to a narrow black belt and a glimpse of what she assumed was a weapon. At the moment, his expression was mildly curious.

Wait. Captain. Could he possibly be the new hire she’d read about, the one who’d accepted the position vacated by Colin McAllister, who had defeated the incumbent county sheriff in the November election? That would make this man captain of Investigative and Support Services, not patrol.

Still...he was right here in front of her. And if he’d paused only to help the desk sergeant get rid of her, well, screw him. At least she wasn’t likely to encounter him again.

“I’m Anna Grant.” Inexplicably reluctant to touch him, she nonetheless held out her hand. “I supervise foster homes for Angel’s Haven Youth Services.”

His eyebrows flickered as if she’d surprised him, but that was the only change of expression she detected. “Ms. Grant.” He engulfed her hand in his much larger one and squeezed before releasing her. “Captain Reid Sawyer.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t need an investigation. I was hoping—” she darted a look at the sergeant as she emphasized the word “—that I could get the city’s patrol officers to watch for a missing child.”

Captain Sawyer raised those surprisingly expressive eyebrows only a little, but it was enough. “Sergeant Shroutt?”

“He’s been missing three hours!” the sergeant burst out. “He might be smoking weed out back of the high school—”

“Except that he’s an eighth grader, not a high school student,” Anna pointed out. She almost felt sorry for him.

“Or panhandling in the Walmart parking lot. Playing Gears of War 3 at some buddy’s house!”

“Then why did he leave a note saying he was taking off?” she asked.

He glowered at her. “What note? You didn’t say anything about a note.”