To Love a Cop (11 page)

“Actually, he did,” she made herself say as she took cold cuts, cheese and mayonnaise out of the refrigerator.

“It’s pizza day,” Jake reminded her. That was the one day of the week when he liked to buy the cafeteria lunch.

“Right. I forgot. But I’m still going to make myself a lunch.” She did most days; their budget was too tight to allow for a lot of eating out. “Your dad liked patrol. He said that’s where the action was, but he figured eventually he’d move to the detective division.” He’d also talked about applying to the Tactical Operations Division SWAT team, but she wasn’t about to tell Jake that. Matt hadn’t taken her terror at the idea seriously.

“It’s not any more dangerous than what I already do,” he’d said blithely, which was scarcely reassuring.

She sent Matt off to grab his pack, counted out lunch money from her purse for him and gave a private shudder as she wondered if Ethan had ever aspired to be on the SWAT team or—maybe even more frightening—the Gang Enforcement Team. Or undercover with Vice or Drug Enforcement.

What am I worrying about?
she thought drearily. It wasn’t as though Matt had been killed on the job.

Ethan remained in the back of her mind all day. As, she privately admitted, he was too often most days.

That didn’t mean she was interested in getting involved with him. He was good for Jake. Full stop.

But when her phone rang that evening, after Jake had already gone to bed, her pulse bounced at the sight of Ethan’s number. Chagrined, she thought,
Not interested? Remember?

Somehow, the reminder failed to slow her accelerated heartbeat.

“Hi,” she said. “I read about you in the paper this morning. Is that little boy all right?” She carried the phone to the living room in hopes Jake couldn’t hear her. Choosing her favorite chair, she kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her.

“Yes, but it was a close thing.” Ethan sounded grim. “They have three kids. Each parent thought the other one had him. Dad tore back into the house, grabbed the boy and had to break the window because it was the only way out by that time.”

“Thank God he got to him in time.”

“Amen.”

“They were Jewish, too?”

“Fischman. This isn’t for public consumption, Laura, but this guy—or gang, we’re not sure yet—is going in alphabetical order.”

“But...why?”

“There’s the question.” He made a rough sound. “I really shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I won’t tell. I promise.” She frowned. “The last two victims both had names that started with
F
, too. Do they all?”

“No, we started with Eckstein and Eichler.”

“Eichler sounds German to me. I wouldn’t have assumed it was Jewish.”

“Yeah, whoever this is has done some research.”

The restraint in his voice had her eyes widening. “Or knows these people?”

“That’s a possibility, too. Again, not one for—”

“—public consumption. I get it. But...do these families know each other?”

“So far, only two do. They attend the same synagogue.” He talked then, his voice already hoarse, telling her that some of the targeted people weren’t practicing Jews, and that the geographic cluster suggested other possibilities.

She speculated on that. “That whoever is doing this is staying close to home.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t you have any witnesses?”

A moment of silence suggested he might be regretting having said as much as he had, but then he replied, “A couple of people running away. Probably young guys. One with a leather jacket and possibly a shaved head.”

Skinhead.

“But you’ve sounded as if you’re only looking for one guy.”

“Chances are, even if there’s a gang, one member is the driving force. He’s the one with a big-time grudge.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“Damn, I hoped we’d get them this time,” he said with sudden force. “I’ve been warning people, speaking to Neighborhood Watch groups, hoping we’d get lucky.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, aware of the silent house and the intimacy of this conversation. Had he called just because he wanted to talk to her? “You sound tired,” she said tentatively.

“Yeah, I’m beat. I’m about to hit the sack. I needed to let you know I can’t make it tomorrow. Would Sunday work instead?”

Deflated, she realized that of course this was why he’d called.

“Yes.” She made her tone bright, unconcerned. “Don’t worry. As soon as I saw the article in the paper, I guessed you would have to work tomorrow.”

“Okay. I hope you hadn’t already gone to bed.”

“No, I was just thinking about it.”

“I shouldn’t have dumped all this on you. I wanted—” He went quiet.

“You wanted?” Her voice was so hushed, it was nearly a whisper.

“To talk to you. That’s all. Thanks for listening to me.”

“You’re very welcome. I...kept thinking about you today.”

“Did you?” he said huskily. “Any chance I get lunch Sunday once the backboard is up?”

Fingers tight on the phone, she felt herself smiling. “Even if it isn’t up.”

“Deal.” He sounded satisfied. “Ten o’clock okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Good night, Laura.”

“’Night,” she murmured, and ended the call. She let her head fall back and thought again,
Oh, I am in such trouble.

But...Ethan Winter wasn’t like Matt. She did know that. They might do the same job, but they were very different men. So...it might be all right. Mightn’t it?

He was amazing with Jake. Her forehead crinkled as she thought about that. He’d said he didn’t have kids and was divorced. Otherwise... Wow, it was a fine moment to realize how little she knew about his personal life. He lived in an apartment. His father was a US marshal whose upcoming retirement would be a relief to his mother. That was about the extent of it. What if he had a girlfriend?
She
might have kids.

Not my business.

Yes, it was. He knew so much about her. Everything. Anxiety trickled through her bloodstream at the very idea he could be the kind of man who would spend time with her and Jake and deliberately fail to mention the really significant people in his life.

Along with something close to panic, Laura felt like a fool, because she had made some big assumptions. She could blame him for them, but she bore some responsibility, too. She hadn’t been treating him like her new best friend, whatever she’d said; she had been acting as if they were starting a relationship. One that wasn’t all about Jake, no matter what she’d told herself.

Now she was mad, and ashamed, and— Wait. If he had a woman waiting at home for him, why would he have called tonight? And said that, about wanting to talk to her? As if...he didn’t have anyone else?

The relief was profound. Flooded with it, she drew her knees up and bumped her forehead against them. Too many emotions, too quick. This was like being on a roller coaster, and she didn’t like it. She wanted off, but she’d probably stagger if she tried to stand up.

She moaned before she could stop herself.

I could fall in love with him
, she thought in shock.
With a man who carries a gun every day.

A man who
hadn’t
carried it into her house since she’d told him how she felt.

Matt had scoffed at her fears about his carelessness with his gun.

Ethan, she knew without question, would listen to what she said, not belittle it. Moreover, he would never have been careless to start with.

Still.

He was good for Jake.

And I can’t seem to help myself.

As she turned out lights, got ready for bed and finally lay waiting for sleep to take her, it was Ethan she kept seeing. Ethan, with a long, utterly controlled stride, huge hands that felt so gentle when he touched her, tousled brown hair, warm eyes.

Speculation on what kind of lover he’d make forestalled any hope of sleep. Instead, her body was rigid, tingling. Heat pooled between her thighs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way, or so much as thought about what it would be like to go to bed with a man. Either anger and grief numbed all sexual response, or she just hadn’t met the
right
man.

Yep. She was officially in trouble.

* * *

E
THAN SPENT
S
ATURDAY
interviewing and reinterviewing the Fischmans’ neighbors. Sam Clayton was tied up working an ugly gang rape, so Ethan was on his own for the moment. He also went by gas stations in the area, hoping someone had noticed a couple of tough-looking teenage boys filling gas cans. And, damn it, he called a dozen more clothing stores, department stores and boutiques, hoping to nail down where the mannequin had come from.

No cigar.

Despite his other investigations, he found himself eating, breathing and dreaming the swastika arsons. He had moments feeling as if the stench of smoke clung to him. Waking up Sunday, he realized how much he needed a real day off. Spending time with a sexy woman and a kid whose problems were still fixable.

He’d half expected Jake’s enthusiasm for helping hang the backboard to wane partway through the job, but it didn’t. He listened carefully to instructions, followed them well and understood Ethan’s explanations.

When they were done, happiness all but blazed from Jake as he gazed up at the newly installed basketball backboard and hoop above the garage door. “This is so cool!”

Smiling, Ethan folded his tall ladder and leaned it against the house out of the way. It had to hang out the back of his Yukon, and he didn’t want to leave his vehicle unlocked when he was in the house. Especially since he now made a habit of leaving his gun in the glove compartment. A locked glove compartment, but he suspected anyone determined enough could break into it.

“Go get your ball,” he suggested. “We’ll try it out.”

“Yeah!”

Calling excitedly to his mother, the boy disappeared into the house. When he reappeared, Ethan was glad to see Laura accompanying him. She wore snug jeans and a pretty sweater with a deep U-neck that bared the uppermost swell of her breasts. He completely approved. The promised rain had yet to happen, and when he first arrived she’d told him of course she couldn’t paint if there was any possibility at all that it
might
rain.

“Absolutely not,” he’d agreed, straight-faced.

Her smirk made him smile even in retrospect.

Now she came to Ethan’s side and gazed worriedly upward. “Is it the same height as one in a gym?”

His mouth quirked. If only she knew how many times he and Jake had measured and remeasured before drilling the first holes. “To the fraction of an inch. Conceding that the driveway isn’t as flat as a gym floor. Wouldn’t do Jake any good to practice his shot if this hoop was off. All he’d do then is throw clunkers when he got to the gym.”

“Oh.” She beamed at him. “That makes sense. So, have you tried it out yet?”

“Nope.” He lifted a hand. “We needed a witness.”

Jake bounced the ball to him. Without thought, Ethan dribbled it a couple of times, bent his knees and rose to lob in an easy jump shot. The ball swished through the net. Laura made admiring sounds that would have had him blushing if he hadn’t caught her amusement. So, okay, he was showing off again.

Jake had grabbed the ball and laid it back up.
Swish.

Laura retreated onto the lawn, and man and boy began to play more seriously. Ethan shot from everywhere but the middle of the street and every one went in. He had the golden touch today. Jake started rougher but became more assured. Ethan kept having flashbacks—himself playing in front of the family home. The smack of the ball on concrete as he dribbled, the thud of it hitting the backboard. Dad often coming out to play with him, undismayed when his kid started beating the crap out of him. Dusk deepening the sky, and Ethan playing on long after his father had gone in. Eventually Dad had installed a floodlight so Ethan could keep playing well into the evening.
Yeah
, he thought,
I might have to do that for Jake, too.

He’d wait, though, to see if the boy spent anywhere near the time out here that Ethan had as a kid. Days were lengthening; night lighting wouldn’t be necessary until the shorter days of autumn anyway.

Disconcerted by the long-range planning, he had to ask himself whether he’d still be around that many months away. No, he wasn’t going to disappear from Jake Vennetti’s life, no matter what happened with Laura. Too many people had already done that to him. It could get awkward, though, if things went sour with her.

Then don’t do anything stupid
, he thought.

Question was: What qualified as stupid? He wished he knew. Wished he thought he could resist the temptation she represented.

She went inside, and then popped out to call them in for lunch. She’d whipped up some really great black bean quesadillas, followed by a peach cobbler.

“I froze a bunch of peaches last year. This was my next-to-last bag, so you’d better appreciate what you’re eating,” she informed them.

Mouth full, he made some incoherent sound meant to express a great deal of appreciation.

Jake had just finished scraping his bowl clean when the phone rang. In Ethan’s experience, kids tended to outrace their parents to grab a ringing phone, but this one ignored it. Laura answered, said, “Just a moment, please,” and handed it to Jake, who stared at her in astonishment. “Ron,” she murmured.

He took the phone from her, handling it as awkwardly as if he’d never used one before, then mumbled into it, “Uh, yeah, hi.”

Both adults eavesdropped unashamedly until he looked up, taking in his audience, and stood, his chair lurching back. “Yeah” was the only other thing he said before he left the room and, a moment later, firmly closed his bedroom door.

“Ron is the friend who was hanging out at the school last week when Jake and I were there,” Ethan said.

Laura grimaced. “Part of me wants Jake to tell him where to go.”

Ethan grinned. “Really? After hearing my affecting speech on forgiveness and understanding why his friend might have reacted the way he did to the rumors?”