Cold Target by Patricia; Potter Page B

hadn’t been able to save her, but perhaps he could save Nan Fuller. Perhaps his call would give Nan a little reassurance, and Gage intended to keep an eye on her soon-to-be ex-husband, even though it was no longer officially his job. He certainly hoped he had made a believer out of Rick Fuller.
    He had another reason as well. He had not been able to resist picking up the phone this morning. She had stayed in his thoughts last night. Meredith Rawson had the cool demeanor of a society belle, but the sparks in her blue eyes were those of a true crusader. He had never cared for either. Yet the combination appealed to him. As did the wide mouth and firm chin. They kept her from being a traditional beauty but gave her an intriguing quality that lingered in his mind.
    He replaced the phone in its cradle. Gorgeous eyes or not, she was not for him.
    So why had he bothered?
    He told himself he did it because of the Prescott case. She would have been around fifteen when the man died, and Prescott was a friend and acquaintance of her father. She might know something, even if she didn’t realize it.
    A leap in logic.
    An excuse.
    Dammit .
    He didn’t need the kind of grief he was tempting by even thinking of the woman in any way but a professional one.
    He picked up the phone again and called Dom Cross. Cross was one of the few people he trusted, perhaps because he was a maverick like himself. Cross ran a shelter for runaway and troubled boys in New Orleans. He was an ex-convict and made no secret of it. His background was one reason he’d been so successful with his young charges. He related to troubled kids far better than any establishment type could.
    Dom had tried to help Gage’s brother years ago but it had been too late. Clint had been too deeply involved in a gang to extricate himself. Because he’d had a cop as a brother, Clint had been given several passes by police who had found minute amounts of drugs on him. But then there was one time too many.
    Gage wished Clint had never received a pass on the first offense. Perhaps that lesson would have stopped the progression of drugs and gangs earlier. It was one reason he said what he had to Meredith Rawson about the release of L.L.
    â€œGage!” Dom’s hearty voice boomed through the receiver. “Haven’t seen you for an age.”
    â€œThree weeks,” Gage corrected.
    â€œThat’s an age.”
    Gage ignored Dom’s somewhat cavalier sense of time. “What about a pickup game this afternoon?”
    â€œI think I can round up a few of the usual suspects.”
    â€œGood. I’ll be there at six.”
    â€œLoser buys the drinks.”
    â€œA little confident, are you?”
    â€œI know which kids to pick.”
    â€œSo do I.”
    â€œI have a surprise on my side. Some new kids. Pretty damn good. It’s what you get for finking out on me.”
    Gage chuckled. Dom had conned him into the pickup games two years ago. The kids needed a righteous cop as a good role model, he kept saying. Problem was Gage had doubts about his own righteousness.
    But he’d owed Dom for what he had tried to do for Clint. And damn if he didn’t just like the man. He was the most persuasive charmer Gage had ever met. And Dom genuinely cared about boys who had no one else who cared. And he made other people care.
    Gage also enjoyed athletics, particularly basketball. In high school, he’d played both basketball and football, then football in college until an injury had ended his pro hopes. And his scholarship.
    Those pickup games at the shelter were the only competition he had these days.
    â€œI’ll be there,” he said with some relish. He always enjoyed tromping Dom.

five
    N EW O RLEANS
    Meredith stayed at the women’s shelter longer than she intended. She devoted at least one afternoon a week there to counsel the women on their legal options. Some, like Nan, she represented pro bono.
    The questions were