Reid’s voice came out gravelly. He hadn’t expected to feel so much. To want to say, Damn right you’re going home with me. “He could find me with no trouble, which means he’d find you.”
“If you contested—”
“The chances are good he’d win. He has so far, hasn’t he?”
The boy ducked his head. His shoulders hunched. He didn’t say anything.
“You need more than I can give you anyway,” Reid said slowly. “Hugs. Affection.” Something always softened inside him when he thought of the Hales and how much they’d given him. “Discipline, school, healing.”
“Like a foster home?”
As an officer of the law, Reid didn’t like knowing he’d be breaking the law. But, within hours of learning all he could about Caleb online, Reid had made peace with his conscience. Not often, but occasionally, the letter of the law contradicted what was just and right. He was living proof of that. The law had failed Caleb, too.
“A shelter. One that’s...different.” Reid held his brother’s eyes, determined that he listen to and understand every word. “It would mean you going off the grid. You’d have to be homeschooled, you wouldn’t be able to get your driver’s license until you’re eighteen and Dad couldn’t come after you anymore. It would mean obeying the rules and not doing something dumb that would bring the authorities down on you and the other kids in the shelter.”
His brother eyed him sidelong. “The way you say ‘authorities.’ Are you into illegal shit? Do you deal or something?”
“Drugs?” Reid gave a short laugh. “No. I’m in law enforcement.” He was very aware of the irony.
Caleb lifted his head to stare at him in disbelief. “Just like Daddy.”
“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.
“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
