CHAPTER 2 Reid
Reid
Reid leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the screen. He tapped one finger lightly against his mouth as he traced the figures back line by line.
“Lawson,” Wilson said, dropping into the chair opposite him with a soft thud and a mug that smelled of instant coffee. “What are you looking at?”
Reid didn’t answer.
Wilson waited a beat. “Or don’t tell me. That’s fine. I’ll just assume it’s thrilling.”
Brian glanced over from the next desk. “Spreadsheet face?”
“Spreadsheet face,” Wilson confirmed solemnly.
Diane snorted from behind her monitor. “God help whoever filed that return.”
“Give me a minute,” Reid said.
Wilson leaned back, unoffended. “Whatever you say, Special Agent Lawson.”
Within the IRS, the Criminal Investigation team had a certain mystique. They carried badges and made arrests. They were glamorous and exciting. At least, compared to their colleagues.
Outside the IRS, Reid suspected no one thought they were cool.
That suited him fine. Reid was not glamorous, nor exciting. He was just very good at what he did.
Schedule C. Then back to the bank deposits. He cross-referenced the 1099s.
“Gotcha,” he said to himself.
Wilson leaned forward immediately. “Oh, that’s what I like to hear.”
Diane paused her typing. “What are we looking at?”
Brian stood and came around behind them, resting a hand on the back of Reid’s chair as he leaned in. Reid shifted his screen slightly so they could see. Wilson let out a low whistle.
“Let’s get this to Sullivan,” Diane said.
Reid was already pulling together the case summary.
Brian leaned back and stretched. “Now comes the fun part.”
The arrests were everyone else’s favorite part. The adrenaline, the action, flashing their badges and handcuffing the tax cheats.
Reid never bothered attending. Maybe he was as boring as everyone thought. That didn’t bother him.
The email whooshed off to Sullivan, and with that sound, the office noises started to filter back into his awareness—voices overlapping, the scrape of a chair, the soft click of a keyboard.
Reid stared at the screen, blinking, then pushed his chair back and stood.
Outside, the air was fresh and he paused a moment, breathing it in. Scaffolding climbed the face of the building opposite. At the entrance, a ramp was being constructed.
If it was one of Maya’s additions, she would have been down there with the workers, checking the slope, making sure it wasn’t just compliant on paper but usable in practice.
She was extraordinary.
People responded to her. They showed up, they volunteered, they donated their time and their money.
She was electric.
She worked long hours, gave constantly of herself, and stretched limited funds over needs that just seemed to multiply.
Part of him had never understood what she saw in him.
The coffee cart was at the corner. Reid was already ordering for them both when Julian joined him.
“One macchiato, as promised,” he said, handing it over.
Julian accepted it, the cuff of his tailored shirt shifting back just enough to reveal the face of an expensive watch.
Next to him, Reid had always felt a little too rigid, a little too plain. Reid could understand someone like this attracting a woman like Maya.
They stood side by side near the curb, the construction noise filling the space between them for a moment.
They'd pulled all-nighters over the same textbooks, graduated the same year, and then Julian had gone corporate, while Reid had gone into government work. Reid didn’t know Julian’s hourly rate but he recognized the price bracket of his suits.
Even at university Julian had wanted to be at the right table at the right bar, always aware of who in the room had money and who didn't. He'd come from wealth but he’d wanted more.
Reid had assumed, unfairly, that Julian only cared about profits.
The fact that he'd shown up for Maya anyway—for something small and unglamorous—said a lot about his character.
Reid suppressed the familiar whisper that one day Maya would realize she could have done better.
“Thanks for all the work you’ve put in for Maya’s charity,” he told him, seriously.
“I’m happy to volunteer my time for a good cause,” Julian said.
Reid couldn’t touch it. The IRS regulations were clear. Other people in the department did that kind of thing anyway, helped out family and friends with bookkeeping and everyone looked the other way. But that would never be him.
He would always do things by the book.
Reid took a sip of his coffee, then looked back at the ramp across the street. Victoria Hale would want her community charity, he knew it.
“She might not need your help much longer,” he said to Julian. He could feel the dopey smile on his face, the expression he had whenever he thought of Maya.
“What? Why?” Julian said, sounding genuinely worried.
Reid snorted. “Calm down, she’s not firing you,” he reassured his friend. “There’s a big nonprofit interested in acquiring her charity.” They would, he knew they would. They’d be crazy not to.
Reid smiled into his coffee.
He had never been happier.