This Good Man. Janice Johnson Kay

a press-worthy arrest, an asshole who’d cut him off on the drive home. Didn’t matter what, unless the “anything” had to do with Reid directly. Say, the school counselor had called and said, “We’re concerned about the number of bruises your son has had recently.” Those days were the worst.

      By fifteen, Reid had been as tall as his father; he thought he must be a couple of inches taller now that he’d reached his full height. But then he’d been skinny, like Caleb was now. Unable to stand up to a muscular, angry man.

      He shook off the recollection, if not the shadow of the memory, of blows falling.

      The day he’d called, the first words out of his father’s mouth had been “So you’re a cop like your old man.”

      “Not like you,” he’d said flatly, just as he had to Caleb. “I’m the kind of cop who should have investigated Mom’s death.”

      “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Dean had snarled.

      “Sure you did. I was young, not deaf and blind.”

      “You ever make an allegation like that, you’ll find yourself in court and I’ll take you for every cent you make in the next fifty years.”

      He had managed to sound bored. “Is there a point to this call?”

      And that was when he’d demanded to know whether Reid had snatched Caleb.

      It wasn’t even a lie to say no. Helping the boy get away was a whole other story.

      But mocking his father...that wasn’t a good idea. It was bound to have made him suspicious.

      Shit, Reid thought again. I need to find out whether he could be in Angel Butte.

      His gaze strayed to the time at the bottom of his computer monitor.

      Yeah, he’d have to make a few calls...but not now. Right now, he was going to wander down to the Kingfisher Café and hope to feed his unexpected craving for another person’s company.

      * * *

      ANNA TOLD HERSELF she’d chosen to sit where she did because the light was better if she ended up pulling out her book to read while she ate. Not so she could keep an eye on the door. If Reid happened to eat here again today, what were the chances he’d be alone? He’d consider the lunch hour to be a good time to conduct business.

      But she remembered the way he’d asked You come often? And every time the door opened, she glanced that way.

      The waitress was taking her order when he came in. Alone. He scanned the entire restaurant in one lightning sweep, analyzing and dismissing everyone he saw, until his gaze reached her and stopped. She felt as if a heat-seeking missile had just locked on target.

      He lifted an eyebrow, the slightest of quirks, but it was enough to ask a question. Throat closing, Anna inclined her head toward the chair opposite her. He smiled, ignored the hostess as if she wasn’t there and crossed the room to Anna’s table.

      “May I join you?” he asked in that deep, velvety voice.

      The waitress turned, startled. “Oh!”

      “Of course you may,” Anna said, then, to the waitress, “Why don’t you hold off on my order until Captain Sawyer decides what he wants?”

      “Yes. Um, of course.” Plump and tattooed, the young waitress retreated in disarray.

      He pulled out the chair across from Anna, immediately making her feel crowded. This table beneath the window was tiny, sized for two who knew each other really well. His knees bumped hers, and he murmured, “Sorry.”