The Deputy's New Family. Jenna Mindel

      Beth watched the boy do as her mother asked without hesitation, before she let loose her irritation. “This better not become a habit.”

      Her mom lifted her chin. “What are you talking about?”

      “Corey’s dad being late.”

      Her mother gave her a hard look. “That’s between him and me. He promised to pay me extra when he’s late.”

      Beth sighed. She couldn’t really argue with that. Her father used to be late a lot, too. At least Nick had called.

      “So why’d you keep Corey at school so long? The poor kid needs an afternoon snack.”

      Beth scrunched her nose. How much could she really share with her mom? “We were reading.”

      “He’s behind, isn’t he?”

      Beth’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

      Her mom shrugged as her gaze shifted behind her before she focused back on Beth. “Set the table, would you? Corey, you can help.”

      The boy had returned. Reason enough for her mother’s quick change of subject. But still, how’d she know? And if it was that easy for her mother to figure it out, why hadn’t Nick? Or Corey’s grandparents? Even worse, why hadn’t someone done something to help the child?

      Beth set the table, letting the dishes clunk hard as she laid them down.

      Corey gave her a quick look with wide eyes. “Are you mad?”

      That question stopped her cold. It wasn’t exactly fear she read in his face but something close to it. Almost as if he’d braced for impact. It made her sick to ponder the implications of that single glance from a sad-eyed seven-year-old.

      She wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Not before reading those reports from Corey’s previous school, if they ever got here.

      Beth smiled, feeling like a heel. “No. I’m not mad. More irritated that I have to set the table, something I don’t like to do, but I shouldn’t take it out on the plates, huh?”

      Corey surprised her with a big grin. The fear was gone, replaced by a sardonic expression that looked much too old for the child giving it. He looked so much like his dad. “They could break.”

      Beth grinned back. Had she read way too much into Corey’s expression? “I suppose my mom wouldn’t like it if I broke her dishes.”

      “No.” Corey shook his head. “I don’t think she would.”

      Beth watched him lay down forks and knives around each plate. He’d been through a lot at a young age, but were there additional concerns she should worry about?

      A fierce sense of protection for Corey filled her. She’d find out, real quick. Starting with the boy’s father.

      * * *

      Nick pulled into Mary Ryken’s driveway. A few raindrops splashed against the windshield of his patrol car, promising more soon. He got out and rushed for the front porch and made it before the deluge.

      Beth Ryken came out looking darker than the rain clouds overhead. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

      That sounded like trouble. She looked stern. Still beautiful, though. Always beautiful. He took a deep breath. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I had to finish up the paperwork of an arrest.”

      “It’s not that.” A crease of worry marred her otherwise-perfect forehead. “Nothing serious?”

      He let out a bark of laughter. “Maybe for the drunk and disorderly seventy-eight-year-old woman who refused to get out of the vehicle of the man who picked her up hitchhiking. The poor guy didn’t dare touch her, so he called us. I thought the whole thing was pretty funny.”

      That didn’t earn him any points. Beth’s gaze grew cool. Icy. “Have you been using the books I sent home with Corey?”

      He nodded. “Every night before bed we read one of those storybooks.” Nick enjoyed revisiting that quiet time together.

      “Who’s doing the reading?” Her gaze narrowed.

      “Both of us. Corey struggles, but I help him out.” What was up with this woman? Two days ago she sent home the books. Why the grief when he followed her directions?

      “They’re barely first-grade level.” Her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper.

      The rain pounded the ground, but that was nothing compared to the bomb his son’s teacher had thrown at him. “But I’ve seen him reading the backs of cereal boxes, and comic books.”

      “Probably following the pictures.”

      Nick stared at her with dread crawling up his spine. He didn’t know what kinds of books kids read in what grades. Nick clenched his fists. Had she sent those books home to entrap him? To prove her point? That wasn’t fair. Not fair to his son. To him.

      At that moment Corey flew out the door. “Hi, Dad.”

      Nick looked at his boy. “Corey, can you wait in the car?”

      His son glanced at Beth and then back at him. “Okay....”

      “I’ll only be a minute. Don’t touch anything.”

      Corey’s shoulders slumped and he flipped up the hood of his rain slicker and dashed for the vehicle.

      Nick watched him get into the SUV cruiser and then focused on Beth. “There has to be something I can do.”

      “This late in the school year, I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Beth Ryken didn’t beat around the bush, that was for sure.

      “But there has to be something—”

      The front screen door opened with a squeak, and Mary Ryken had a loaded plate wrapped in foil. Dinner? “We had more than enough.”

      Mary had made enough for both him and Corey to take home the previous night, too. “Thank you.”

      Nick’s focus followed to where Beth pointed, toward the sheriff patrol vehicle. Corey was messing with something. “I’ve got to go.” He stared hard at his son’s teacher. “But this conversation is far from over.”

      He saw how Beth’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say another word as he ran for the car. His uniform got soaked in the process.

      Nick slipped behind the wheel and set the foil-wrapped plate on the backseat. “I asked you not to touch anything.”

      Corey looked at him. “Are there games on this?”

      Nick turned his computer monitor back around. “No. No games.”

      As Nick backed out of the Rykens’ driveway, he glanced at the porch. Beth waved. Corey waved back. “What did you do at Mary’s today?”

      “I was at school with Miss Ryken.”

      “How come?”

      Corey shrugged.

      Nick drove with care, slow and sure. “Did she ask you to read?”

      His boy’s face fell. “Yeah.”

      “And you had trouble, huh? Like with the books we have.”

      More dejection. “Yeah.”

      Nick swallowed hard. “Corey, why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time reading words? I could have helped.”

      “You weren’t there.”

      The barb hit hard and true, piercing his heart with bitter regret. “Grandma and Grandpa would have helped you to read better.”

      Corey shrugged again.

      It wasn’t the kid’s fault. Why hadn’t Susan’s parents picked up on it? Nick rubbed the bridge of his nose. They were dealing, too.