Look-Alike Lawman. Glynna Kaye

did he know about what went on in a little kid’s head?

      Gray stared at himself in the bathroom mirror Tuesday morning as he readied himself for the day. Wallace, you may be known for having a cool, clear head on the job, but you’re not even thinking straight.

      He’d agreed to spend one-on-one time with Cory. But how much of his decision was based on the hopeful glow in Elise’s eyes last night at the coffee shop? The grateful sincerity in her voice touched a chord deep within. Had he agreed to help because he thought he could make a difference for Cory—or because it would be an excuse to spend time with the boy’s mother?

      He had to come up with something he could do with the kid. He couldn’t sit across the table and interrogate him to get to the heart of his anger issues. Trying to force a confession for an easily resolved happily-ever-after would be bound to fail.

      With his bum shoulder he couldn’t even play catch like he used to do with Jenna’s boy. What do you say to a kid whose dad died? And violently at that. People meant well enough when his own mom was killed on that long-ago, stormy night, but “your mother is in heaven” hadn’t done a whole lot for him. It only served to upset his dad when his oldest child wakened in the night crying and begging God to return her.

      After that, he didn’t cry. Not in front of his father. Not in front of anyone. Is that why Cory didn’t cry? He didn’t want to upset his mother? Maybe he kept it all bottled up inside and when the opportunity came to unleash it in physical form—like knocking some smart aleck’s block off—it wasn’t worth the effort to try to restrain himself.

      With a shake of his head, Gray reached for the razor. He had all morning and into the afternoon to decide what to do with Cory. Today he had to make headway on the search for his father, so he couldn’t devote a lot of time obsessing about the boy’s situation. Maybe God would have mercy on him and the kid would flatly tell his pretty mom he didn’t want to see Officer Wallace today. Or ever.

      * * *

      Elise eased up on the gas pedal. She’d been keyed up all day wondering how things would go between Grayson and Cory during their hour together. What they would do. What they would talk about. Was this a wrong choice on her part? Would it appear to Cory he was being rewarded for yesterday’s misbehavior?

      At twenty till six, she rounded the final corner and pulled up in front of the apartment house behind a now-familiar silver SUV. Grayson was still here? Yes. Sitting on the concrete porch talking to a rapt Cory.

      She’d no more than stepped out of her vehicle when a diminutive Volkswagen pulled in behind her, the logo of a popular pizzeria adorning its roof. A teenage boy dashed by her, carrying a paper bag and large flat box. Grayson rose to pull out his wallet as Cory welcomed the pizza with open arms. By the teen’s euphoric smile, she imagined the tip made the delivery worthwhile.

      As the pizza guy jogged back to his car, she approached the twosome again seated on the concrete porch steps, checking out the contents of the box. Cory looked up, grin widening.

      “Mom! Officer Wallace bought us pizza! My favorite, pepperoni. And part ham and pineapple, your favorite!”

      “What’s the occasion of this celebratory feast?” She turned an inquiring eye on Grayson who was casually dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and a gray zippered sweatshirt, looking even more handsome than he had last night. She hoped the pizza didn’t mean she had to invite him in, though. She hadn’t cleaned up the breakfast dishes before dashing off to work this morning. The bathroom and kitchen were in need of a deep cleaning, too. Why couldn’t she keep up with the simplest of chores?

      “Cory said he hadn’t had pizza in a while and I realized I hadn’t either, so we decided to give the cook a break tonight.”

      She glanced at her son, hoping the reality wasn’t that he’d begged his new friend for takeout. Mother and son might have a generic frozen pizza when on sale, but rarely a fresh, popular pizzeria variety. So this was a treat for both of them. “Thank you. What a nice welcome home.”