Elena smiled widely. "Sure. Gotta keep that baby happy."
Gage glanced across the room again, aware of the glances he was drawing from the other kids in the place, some of whom he knew, some he didn't. But he didn't make eye contact with any of them, partly because he knew some didn't want to acknowledge that they knew and maybe even liked a cop, and partly because he was focused on the woman who was stretching up to straighten the picture she'd just put on the wall. No, there was nothing about that lady that needed help. Nothing at all.
"Who's that?" he asked Elena.
"She's Caitlin's old friend's sister," Elena explained, eyeing him speculatively. "She's here for the baby shower."
"Oh."
"Pretty, isn't she?"
She said the last archly, with a mischievous glance over her shoulder at him as she headed behind the bar to dump her load of glasses into the sink of soapy water. Gage followed her, smiling. It was moments like this that made it all worth it, he thought. Just a year ago, Elena had been a very troubled girl, cutting school, messing with drugs, drunk as often as she was sober. Today she was back in school and doing well, despite her mother's chronic illness.
"Hey, Caitlin!" Elena called out as they reached the bar. "Look what blew in!"
The strawberry blonde turned, saw Gage and smiled widely. The welcome warmed him in an entirely different way than it used to; Caitlin was Quisto's, and he was undeniably hers, and he wasn't fool enough to stick his nose between them. But he didn't like her any less. More, perhaps, and her friendship was important to him.
The woman on the ladder turned, as well, and Gage was struck by the sensation that she seemed familiar. She looked at him, dark brows furrowed over striking gray eyes, as if she felt the same.
"Only six-thirty," Caitlin said teasingly, glancing at her watch. "What on earth are you doing away from Trinity West this early?"
He grimaced, switching his gaze back to Caitlin. "Not you, too. Kit's already chewed on me more than enough for one day."
"Good for her," Caitlin said with a laugh.
Gage glanced at the wall behind her, the yellow wall, the one where the familiar-seeming woman had just hung a whimsical photo of a baby and a gamboling puppy. The cheerful wall Caitlin had begun as an antidote to the darker, opposite wall behind him. He didn't have to look at it to remember the mass of photos there, a conglomeration of faces and names with seemingly only one thing in common: their youth. But Gage knew too well what else they had in common: they were dead. Every last one of them was dead. Some from drugs, some shot, stabbed, run down in the street. And a few suicides. The pictures were brought in by friends, brothers, sisters, cousins, anyone who wanted to be sure they weren't forgotten, these lost souls, like the way the world seemed to want to forget them. And with Caitlin's help, they never would be.
The dark-haired woman stepped down to the floor, moving with a long-limbed grace that had Gage watching with a fascination that startled him when he realized what he was doing. She was still looking at him as if she were trying to place him, and the feeling grew stronger within him, as well, that he'd seen her before.
Caitlin half-turned to the woman beside her. "I want you to meet one of my favorite people. He's half the reason this place exists. Gage Butler, meet—"
"You!" The woman's exclamation cut Caitlin off. She stared at him, recognition now clear in her face. Recognition and something more. Anger. No, Gage thought, beyond anger. Outrage. And he knew the moment she spoke again that he had, if anything, underestimated her animosity.
"It's you! You lying, two-faced, phony sneak!"
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
He'd barely changed at all in eight years, Laurey thought. He was still as tall, as blond, his eyes just as green, his features as perfect. He was slightly broader in the shoulders, solid muscles perhaps a bit more evident, but he was as lean as he'd been then. And just as breathtaking. You would never guess that behind that beautiful exterior was someone capable of lying without blinking, of presenting a false front so perfect that no one would ever suspect that underneath was a dishonest, deceitful, double-dealing—
He was gaping at her. She supposed he could be faking it, that utterly puzzled look—she'd certainly had experience with his acting ability—but it seemed more likely to be real. He didn't remember her. He'd shattered her life, and he didn't even remember her.
"Are you still betraying people, lying to get them to trust you, and then—"
"Whoa," Caitlin interrupted, sounding wary as Elena, wide-eyed, scuttled away, darting for cover into Caitlin's office. "I gather you two know each other?"
"Yes." Laurey's voice was tight, tense.
"No," Gage said simultaneously, sounding as puzzled as he'd looked.
"I see," Caitlin said, eyebrows raised.
"It doesn't surprise me that you don't remember me," Laurey snapped, her eyes never moving from the tall blond man. She refused to back down, to be intimidated, not by this man. "You probably ruined too many lives to remember each one."
Gage opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it again. "Gage Butler," Caitlin said slowly, staring at Laurey, "has saved more lives than I can count."
"Oh, really?" Laurey said, barely managing to rein in the sarcasm slightly, and only trying for Caitlin's sake.
"Yes," Caitlin said positively. "But you obviously don't feel that way. Why?"
"I have this problem with lying, two-faced—"
"I think I just heard this song," Gage said, speaking at last.
Laurey glared at him. "I'll bet you've heard it a lot."
"Not lately," he said, then, as if something had just occurred to him, his gaze narrowed as he stared at her. "Not lately," he repeated slowly.
"Taking a break from tricking people?" she asked sweetly.
"Why don't you take a break from cryptic comments and tell me exactly what it is you think I've done?"
"Blocked it out, have you? How you lied to people you tricked into being your friends? Entrapped them? And then—"
"Laurey," Caitlin began warningly.
"Laurey," Gage said, in an entirely different tone. "Laurey … Templeton, isn't it?"
He did remember, she thought. And she hated the fact that, in the midst of her anger, it pleased her. It gave her voice even more of an edge.
"It is. Not that it matters. I'm just one of many who fell for your act."
"Laurey, listen," Caitlin began, but she stopped when Gage lifted a hand.
"It's all right," he said, "I think I understand. You went to Marina Heights High School, didn't you?"
Her chin came up, and she continued to glare at him.
"About eight years ago?" he asked.
"My senior year, to be exact. A year," she added bitterly, "that I'll never forget."
"Eight years," Caitlin said thoughtfully, glancing from Laurey to Gage. "Wasn't that about when you were working undercover at the high school?"
"When he was a narc, you mean," Laurey said. "Sneaky, lying—"
"You're repeating yourself," Gage said rather mildly. He looked at Caitlin and explained in a wry tone, "I think it's safe to say that your friend here got … caught up in one of the sweeps."
Caitlin eyed Laurey with interest. "Is it true? You got arrested? I never knew—"
"It's hardly something I advertise," Laurey said sharply, blushing; despite the fact that she'd later been released without being charged, the knowledge that she'd been arrested was still humiliating. "And I didn't do anything," she added quickly.
Gage's mouth quirked. He didn't speak, but Laurey could hear the words "That's what they all say," as clearly as if he had.
She glanced back at Caitlin and saw a different expression, one of understanding, or at least a willingness to listen. But then, Caitlin had always been that way. Even when she herself had been a fourteen-year-old pest, tagging along with her big sister, Caitlin had been kind. Kinder than Lisa had been, most of the time, or at least more patie
nt. Lisa hated having her kid sister hanging around and had made it clear. It was only years later, when Lisa had graduated and moved away from home, that they had become close.
And then there hadn't been enough time. They'd wasted so much of it, thinking they had forever, never realizing…
It welled up suddenly, as it so often did, catching her off guard and unaware. Moisture stung her eyes. "Excuse me," she stammered, and turned away. She fled quickly, darting through the door at the far end of the yellow wall, into the small bathroom. She made it just as the tears spilled over.
* * *
Gage watched the door swing closed, his brows furrowed. She'd gone so quickly from anger to tears, and he swore he hadn't said anything to bring on the change. He turned to look at Caitlin, feeling a bit bewildered. To his amazement, Caitlin's blue eyes were glistening as well.
"Damn," he muttered. "What brought that on? One minute she's spitting mad, and the next… What did I say?"
"It's nothing you said, Gage," Caitlin said softly. "It's nothing to do with you at all."
"But it was me she was … mad at."
"Yes, but that's not what she was crying about."
"Oh."
He waited, but Caitlin didn't elaborate. Women, he thought. How did they do it, figure things like that out so easily? They seemed to know, somehow, when what happened on the surface was driven by something else completely different beneath.
"Did you really arrest her?" Caitlin asked.
"I … not directly. I just told the beat officers to stop the car she was in, because I knew one of the kids had just picked up a sizable stash of grass he was going to sell."
He paused, the memories the tall, dark-haired woman had wakened still stirring. And moving faster, reminding him of that time he'd all but forgotten. The time when he had first come out of the police academy and the baby face that was the bane of his existence had prompted the powers-that-be to divert him before he'd ever hit the street in uniform. They'd put him in the local high school, masquerading as a transfer student. They'd built him a rep before he ever arrived, and by the time he checked in, everyone knew he'd been in drug trouble at his previous school.
The Marina Heights students had been suspicious, as they were of any newcomer, but Gage had barely been away from the high school life for three years—he'd started the academy when he was twenty, getting special permission since he would turn twenty-one the week before he graduated—and he didn't find it too difficult to fall back into that life. The hardest part, ironically, had been purposely cutting school, skipping homework and making lousy grades on tests in classes he'd excelled in.
"But you remember her?"
"Yes." Oh, yes, he remembered her. And he was remembering more by the minute. "How do you know her?"
A shadow flickered in Caitlin's eyes. "Her sister Lisa was my best friend from school. She … couldn't be here, so Laurey came in her place." He sensed there was more—much more—to it than that, but Caitlin quickly moved on. "Lisa never told me Laurey had gotten in trouble. But we were both off to college by then." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry she was so…"
"Yeah," Gage said dryly. "Obviously the lady holds a grudge."
"She was … young. Things are always so intense then." She eyed him pointedly. "And some people stay that way."
His mouth twisted. "And you're not? And your husband?"
She laughed. "And the Gregersons and the Buckharts and Kit … we're all guilty as charged." Then, rather briskly, she asked, "Speaking of which, what's up? You didn't just drop by to kill time."
"I didn't?"
"Gage Butler, you don't allow yourself the luxury of time to kill." She was suddenly very serious. "Do you have news? Diane's case?"
He nodded, automatically glancing around to be sure there was no one to overhear. "We got the arrest warrant."
Caitlin breathed a sigh of relief. "Hallelujah."
He nodded; he knew Caitlin was under no more illusions than any cop that the rich indeed weren't treated differently. She knew it from firsthand experience. She'd grown up in neighboring Marina del Mar, with the silver spoon indigenous to the wealthy town. It made what she was doing here even more amazing.
"Keep it quiet," he said, although he knew it was unnecessary. "I don't want to take any chance of it getting back to him and scaring him off before we can serve it."
Caitlin didn't take offense, only nodded. "I won't. I want him in prison. I want Diane and her family to know he's where he should be, locked up like the animal he is."
"He will be, by Friday evening." He explained his reasons for the timing and his hopes that Martin would be unable to make bail as quickly as he normally would.
"But he's going to make bail eventually," he warned her. "Even Judge Partain couldn't deny it. The very things that give him the wherewithal to run are the things his lawyers will say will keep him here."
Caitlin grimaced. "I hate that. It makes me think he'll somehow get away with it. That the system really can be bought."
"We both know it can be. But not this time," Gage said grimly. "I swear, Cait, not this time. He may get out on bail, but he'll be going back. He'll be going back for a long, long time."
* * *
This, Laurey told herself as she leaned against the wall papered with a cheerful yellow-and-white print, was ridiculous. Worse than ridiculous, it was stupid. It had been eight years. There was no reason for this, no reason for her to have reacted so strongly. She thought she had gained some perspective in the years since that fateful night that was so clearly etched on her memory. She thought she had consigned it neatly to the archives of youthful lessons learned.
She thought she'd forgotten Gage Butler.
So why, at the first sight of him, had all the old anger and shame welled up inside her as if it had been yesterday? Why had she instinctively lashed out? Why did she feel as if she was on the edge of some kind of fierce explosion, some eruption of temper that would make what had just happened seem mild?
She knew, of course. She knew all too well why she was so touchy, why it took next to nothing to set her off. Lisa.
"Laurey?"
Caitlin's voice came through the bathroom door. Laurey straightened, wondering how long she had been in here. Hiding, she thought glumly. Hiding, in a way utterly unlike her.
"Gage is gone," Caitlin informed her, and Laurey felt more than ever like a child who had run away to hide from something that upset her. She let out a compressed sigh and went to open the door.
"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I had no right to act like that here, in your place."
Caitlin stood aside and let Laurey pass back into the main room. Instead of commenting on her antagonistic behavior, Caitlin merely said "I've been told I make a mean root beer float. Will you have one with me?"
"I … yes," Laurey said, glad Caitlin didn't seem too upset by her treatment of a man who was obviously a good friend. "Thank you."
She didn't say anything else, just took a seat on one of the tall stools as Caitlin went behind the bar. The redhead opened the small freezer and took out a carton, scooped ice cream into a glass, then filled it from a tap behind her. Laurey's gaze strayed to the framed photograph directly above the root beer dispenser. A wedding photograph of the fiery-haired Caitlin and her darkly handsome husband, Quisto Romero. He had been, Lisa had told her, quite the ladies' man before he'd met his match in Caitlin. And their path had not been smooth; they had met because of the awful murder of a child, and had both come terrifyingly close to death themselves before they at last had found happiness. And they were happy, Laurey thought. It was undeniable. It glowed in their eyes and fairly radiated from them when they spoke of the child to come who would be the personification of that love.
Caitlin set the foamy concoction before Laurey, and she took a sip. She hadn't had one in years, and now that she tasted the creamy tang of it, she wondered why. "It's wonderful," she said.
"So my husband says," Caitlin said with a s
mile. "They were the way to his heart, you know."
Laurey smiled, feeling better now. "Were they?"
"He has a weakness for them."
"And for you."
"That, too," Caitlin said with a grin. She patted her belly, swelling with the child that would be born three months from now. "And it's a good thing."
"Yes," Laurey said softly. "A very good thing."
She sipped at the float again, savoring the contrast of the creamy richness of the ice cream and the bubbly bite of the soda.
"Gage is really a wonderful guy," Caitlin said quietly, catching Laurey off guard; she wondered if her friend had planned it that way. Probably. Caitlin was uncomfortably perceptive at times. She'd always been able to tell when something had upset the younger woman, and, unlike Lisa, had always seemed to have the time and patience to listen to her friend's little sister.
Laurey didn't answer. She couldn't think of anything to say.
"He helped me with this place, even while he was trying to talk me into opening it in Trinity West instead of here."
"Oh."
"He was concerned for my safety. But even he admits it's working."
"Of course it is," Laurey said, trying to change the subject. "You're great with these kids. You're going to be a great mom."
"Thank you. But," Caitlin went on, clearly not ready to be diverted, "half of these kids wouldn't be here if not for Gage."
Laurey's gaze narrowed. "Why?" she asked sourly. "Because he made it a condition of their parole?"
"No," Caitlin said quietly, "because if not for Gage, they'd be dead."
Laurey blinked. "What?"
Caitlin gestured toward a tall, lanky young boy of about fourteen, with mocha skin, wearing baggy jeans, a black football jersey and a baseball cap jammed on his head backward, who was huddled with some other kids over a video game.
"That's Dion. He nearly died in a gang shoot-out two years ago. He was only twelve, and he wasn't even in a gang, but the shooting convinced him he had to join up, for self-protection. Then Gage stepped in. He talked him out of it and got him into the gang diversion program he started a while back. It shows the kids there's another way, teaches them skills to get them out of this environment sooner. Dion is going to be a pilot now."
GAGE BUTLER'S RECKONING Page 2