Reunited By Danger. Carol Post J.

passenger by the name of Raymond Ellis.

      Caleb looked at the time of arrest again, then picked up Theodore Ellis’s statement. Ronald had been stopped at 1:46 a.m. Raymond had been with him.

      But Raymond’s parents had stated he was home before one.

      Raymond’s parents had lied.

       FOUR

      Amber moved down the hall at a good clip, purse slung over her shoulder. She was leaving the station late. She’d finished a report about a lost tablet five minutes after the official end of her shift then stopped by Chief Sandlin’s office to tell him about the dangers she was facing. Hunter had already beaten her to it. She’d scold her meddling big brother later. At least she still had a job.

      Actually her chief had been more concerned about the threats on her life than any inability to handle her duties. He’d agreed with Hunter that she shouldn’t report alone to any out-of-the-ordinary calls. The other ninety-nine percent of her job, she could easily and safely do. Hunter was right about one thing. When it came to Florida cities, Cedar Key was one of the safest.

      She swung open the glass door and stepped into the department’s gravel parking area. A dark blue pickup sat next to her SUV, its engine running. Caleb was inside. He’d texted her earlier, asking if he could meet with her. He hadn’t said what was so important that it warranted an in-person visit instead of a phone call.

      He turned off the engine and lowered the window. “Howdy, stranger.”

      “Hey, yourself. Sorry you had to wait on me.”

      He gave her an easy smile. “No problem.”

      No problem for him, maybe, but it was putting stress on her already tight schedule. She would let Caleb talk to her while they shared leftover lasagna. At six thirty, she’d boot him out the door and head for her seven o’clock appointment.

      She pressed the key fob and motioned with her other hand. “Follow me.”

      Seven minutes later she pulled into her driveway, Caleb behind her. Three cats were pressed together on one windowsill, Tippy on the other.

      “You have four cats.”

      “Five.”

      “The proverbial cat lady.” His tone was teasing.

      “Almost.” She inserted her key into the lock and turned it. “Actually, I only have one cat. The other four are foster cats.”

      “Foster cats?”

      She swung open the door. “I’m a volunteer for Sheltering Hands, a cat rescue over in Williston. I take care of them until they get placed in forever homes.”

      As she gathered empty bowls and put them in the sink to soak, cats wove in and out of her legs, emitting a chorus of meows.

      Caleb smiled. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who’d be taking care of a bunch of homeless cats. But I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who’d have become a cop, either.”

      Yeah, it’d probably be a while before Caleb could look at her and not see the troubled rebel of ten years ago. Maybe that impression would never die.

      She cleaned the dishes and lined the five of them up on the counter. When she popped the top on a large can, the protests grew louder.

      “Trust me, you’re not going to starve before I get this dished up.”

      Caleb laughed. “You won’t convince them. I’ve got a cat and a dog that haven’t missed a meal since they’ve been with me. But they’re sure I’ll let them go hungry sooner or later.”

      When she’d split the can between the five bowls, she picked up two of them and Caleb followed with the other three. Moments later, all five cats were lined up against the wall, smacking happily.

      Amber pulled a casserole dish from the refrigerator and filled two plates. “Everything’s going to be fast and easy tonight.” She was even skipping the salad, a rare occurrence. She usually tried to eat fairly healthy. Too many depended on her, both people and animals.

      Caleb carried one plate to the microwave. “I’m not hard to please. Anything’s fine if I don’t have to cook it.”

      Soon the mouthwatering aromas of Italian cooking filled her kitchen. She was feeding him leftovers, but they were good ones. She’d made the lasagna fresh last night.

      The microwave beeped for the second time, and she set both steaming plates on the table next to the tea glasses she’d already placed there. After claiming an empty chair, she picked up her fork and cut into the steaming lasagna.

      “So tell me what’s so important—” Her gaze fell on Caleb’s bowed head. “Sorry.”

      She knew better. She’d been raised the same way Caleb had. With him it had stuck. With her it hadn’t. It wasn’t that she no longer believed in God. She just wasn’t going to pretend to be something she wasn’t.