To Love a Cop (29 page)

“You okay?” Ethan asked, and Jake nodded.

“I guess I should go in. ’Cuz I didn’t tell Mom, but I have a little bit of homework to do.”

Ethan just laughed. “If you’d told her, she might not have let you go, and I had fun. But you’d better get on with it so she doesn’t find out. So scoot.”

Jake opened his door but turned back. “Are you really coming to dinner tomorrow night, too?”

“I’m planning to. Do you mind?”

Jake shook his head, suddenly feeling a little shy. “It’s cool.”

“Good.” Ethan was smiling when Jake slid out, said good-night and slammed the door.

* * *

W
EDNESDAY GOT OFF
to a damn good start as far as Ethan was concerned. Asleep by four, he woke up at eleven feeling fine. So fine, he called Laura and asked if she’d like to take a lunch break. He even had time to gobble a bowl of cereal before he picked her up and they came back to his apartment for sex that seemed to get better every time, even though, how could it?

Laura giggled when he said something like that. He loved looking at her face at moments like this. Even though her mouth was puffy from him devouring it and she had some whisker burn on her jaw and, uh, he ought to point out the hickey he seemed to have given her—she might have been years younger than she often appeared. Her eyes were a clearer blue than usual, as if a cloud had passed, leaving only sunlight. He wondered how often in the past six years she’d looked as carefree as she did right now.

They even had time for him to make a sandwich for her, and for them to talk for a few minutes. He told her a little bit about his conversation with Jake, not giving away the parts he thought were confidences, but letting her know Jake had asked his opinion.

“No idea what he’ll decide,” he concluded, “but I told him there’s no hurry, either. He can look Matt’s family up tomorrow, next year, in ten years. I think that took some of the pressure off.”

“And he doesn’t need any more pressure right now.” She made a face. “Are we talking about my son again, and when we’re actually having time without him?”

Ethan grinned. “Couldn’t help myself. Slap me next time.”

She slid off the breakfast stool to kiss his jaw, all she could reach. “Or I can distract you some other way.”

“You can, but not now, unless you want to take an extra long lunch break.” Which sounded good to him, even though he ought to be heading to work himself. He did, after all, have other investigations in the works besides the swastika creep. Among other things, he had a court appearance on Monday, for which he needed to do some review.

She sighed. “No, I have an appointment at one thirty. In fact, we should get going.”

That hour—okay, hour and a half—with her eased some of his worry that she’d latched on to him mainly for Jake’s benefit.

Dinner was good, too. When he and Jake played one-on-one, he could tell Jake had been continuing to put in time out there. Over dinner, he was a likeable, friendly kid who didn’t seem capable of the anger Ethan had seen him display.

It would be nice to think what he saw was reality, but given his job, he knew better. Even a kid Jake’s age could hide a hell of a lot.

Yes, but was he? Ethan’s instinct said no. He thought Jake was actually working through some stuff and coming out the other side.

Ethan’s middle-of-the-night stakeout was mind-stultifying boring. The kid didn’t even slip out of the house to hang out with a buddy, as he had the one night. A couple of cars passed, neither slowing. A light came on upstairs in a house two doors down and across the street, then went off a couple of minutes later. Someone who’d gotten up to take a piss or pop a couple of aspirin, Ethan diagnosed. The Gelfman house, however, stayed completely dark. No kid stole out his window to go a-wandering.

Driving home, Ethan called Sam first.

“Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse,” Sam intoned.

David Pomeroy sounded tired and grumpy. “We fire guys aren’t as quick to pull a weapon as you boys and girls who wear a different badge. I came real close tonight to blasting the biggest goddamn dog I’ve ever seen, though. Could’ve sworn it was a man, crouched to get through the hedge the Fromels have seen fit to grow around their front yard. Have I said how much I hate hedges?”

He had, but Ethan didn’t remind him.

“I’d been getting sleepy, so I got out, found a decent spot to watch from in a dark corner of the yard, and then the hedge rustles. This dark shape comes through. I snap on my flashlight and call, ‘Police, freeze or I’ll shoot,’ only it keeps coming and its eyes are glowing a maniacal green. The thing had to be, shit, I don’t know, a Great Dane or wolfhound, except it looked more like a bear.”

Ethan grinned despite his own exhaustion. “Sounds like a Newfoundland.”

“And he was friendly! He licked me. I couldn’t get rid of him! The whole time I’m hustling back to my vehicle, he’s trotting along trying to lean on me. Pleased as punch someone else is up and about in the middle of the night. I’m thinking, crap, someone’s going to wake up any minute. They’ll call the cops. I get in, and the damn dog puts his front feet on the door and stares in the window at me, tongue lolling. What do you want to bet he scratched the paint?”

“Might have been a she. Love at first sight.”

Pomeroy had something obscene to say about that and rang off.

Thursday night was much the same, minus the dog tale. Ethan could feel his confederates’ enthusiasm slipping. Both had vowed to keep watch through the weekend, at least, before they revisited the plan.

* * *

L
AURA STARED, AGHAST,
when she opened the door to let Ethan in Friday evening. “Oh, no! What happened to you?”

“That bad, huh?” He gingerly touched his swollen, discolored cheekbone. “Took a punch.” He’d jumped in during a melee at the station. Nothing to do with him, but one of the two officers trying to control a belligerent drunk had gone down, and they’d needed a hand. He told Laura about the incident.

“Punching a police officer is a dumb thing to do. Even if you’re drunk, you should know better.” She rose on tiptoe and gave his cheek a featherlight kiss. “A black eye, too.”

His smile was slightly more crooked than usual. “How about some concealer?”

“I kind of doubt it would cut it for you.” She led the way to the kitchen. “As it happens, I don’t own any. What you see is what you get.”

“And I like getting you a whole lot,” he said huskily.

“Shush,” she said, laughing. “Although Jake must not have heard the doorbell.”

“How could he not?”

“Earbuds, what else?” Although she’d picked up a spoon, she didn’t object when he drew her into his arms. “You’re right,” she murmured, just before his mouth found hers. “Let’s not call him until dinner is on the table.”

The interlude was all too brief, but nonetheless satisfying. Jake was always too eager for Ethan’s arrival to remain oblivious for long. He popped into the kitchen saying, “How come Ethan’s not— You are here!” Then his mouth dropped open. “What
happened
?”

Ethan explained that a man hadn’t taken well to being arrested. “He was off-the-charts drunk,” he added.

“So now he’s in trouble for attacking a police officer?” Jake asked, wide-eyed.

“Probably. It wasn’t my arrest. I kind of hope they didn’t put my name in the report,” he said wryly. “Last thing I need is one more court appearance on my schedule. Once the idiot was behind bars, I went looking for an ice pack.”

Ethan won her gratitude after that by successfully diverting Jake with graphic descriptions of several similar injuries he’d received on the basketball court—apparently, a well-applied elbow could do a lot of damage. Jake reminisced about the egg-sized lump that had popped out on his head when he fell off his bike a couple of years ago.

“This friend and me, we found a piece of plywood and set up a ramp.” He was smart enough to give Laura a cautious glance. She hadn’t been very happy about the ramp.

There it was, she thought ruefully, the boy versus girl thing. She didn’t think of herself as timid, but she’d never had the slightest desire to launch herself into the air on a bike.

Ethan, though, was nodding as if he completely understood. She rolled her eyes, and he laughed at her.

“My friends and I were into skateboards. No skateboard park in those days. We laid a piece of plywood to cover some cement steps. The sidewalk sloped there, see. If you got up some speed and made the turn just right, you’d shoot up the ramp and catch some serious air.” Noting her evil eye, he cleared his throat. “Not that I’m recommending it. I actually broke my arm that time. My mother was not happy.”

Jake sneaked another look at
his
mother. “I bet.”

“She pointed out that I could have broken my head instead.”

“But didn’t you wear a helmet?”

“Uh...”

“You
didn’t
!” Jake sounded both shocked and intrigued.

Ethan sobered. “No, and I’m here to tell you to wear the thing. Having a cast on my arm for a month put a serious crimp in my athletic schedule. Took a while for my muscles to regain their strength, too. Getting a major concussion, that would be a lot worse.”

“Assuming you didn’t do permanent brain damage,” Laura said tartly.

“Assuming,” he agreed.

When it was time for him to go, she stepped out on the front porch with him and closed the door to give them another moment of near privacy. “Are you still doing the stakeout?”

He grunted. “I’m not excited about it tonight.”

“You hurt.”

“A headache.” His big hand cradled her face. “I’ll take some more ibuprofen. Won’t kill me.”

She winced. “Just...be careful.”

“Chances are, nothing will happen.”

“But you think it will, sooner or later.”

“‘Hope’ is more accurate. Otherwise, we’ll keep trailing two steps behind. I don’t like this one, Laura. The guy is working up to killing someone. I want to stop him first.”

She nodded. “I know. I understand.”

“Good.” His voice was soft, velvety. His kiss started that way and became urgent.

This was one of the rare times when Laura could wish she was childless. Not that Ethan would be able to stay anyway, she reminded herself. The chill she felt as he left wasn’t from the night air. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, watching when he backed out of the driveway, then drove away. As a detective, his job was less dangerous than Matt’s had been as a patrol officer. Ethan had survived years on patrol himself unscathed. But...she couldn’t forget that he carried a gun for a reason.

* * *

E
THAN WOULDN’T CALL
what he had a premonition. More common sense, or just the voice of experience. The long, long interval since the last fire worried him, given the fact that the crimes had been escalating. Usually impatience went with that. He had an itch between his shoulder blades he couldn’t scratch.

Whatever his reasoning, he thought tonight was the night.

Not all the incidents had taken place on weekend nights, but four of the six had. The intervals had varied, from a couple of weeks to less than a week.

So...tonight, maybe tomorrow night.

He hadn’t been in place long when he saw movement in the dark yard. He narrowed his eyes, not sure he hadn’t imagined it. But...yep, the kid was dropping from the tree. Once again he had nothing in his hands. He might be going anywhere. Friday night, party time, although Ethan would’ve expected him to head out way earlier.

He heard the sound of an approaching car, although he didn’t see headlights. Austin March reached the sidewalk and trotted away, ignoring Ethan’s SUV parked at the curb across the street.

He waited a minute, and then opened the door. He’d disabled the dome light, and now left the door cracked open. He’d be returning in a hurry if Austin hopped into his buddy’s car and a vehicle pursuit was necessary.

The friend was parked midblock, probably on purpose since the street lamps were close to the corners. But, lurking in a front yard landscaped with shrubs, Ethan saw enough.

Having looked up the address where Austin visited on his last nighttime jaunt, Ethan already knew the friend was eighteen-year-old Tyler Smith, who might or might not graduate from high school in June depending on whether he pulled his grades up enough. Like Austin, he’d been in trouble with the law, although in his case the offenses related to drugs.

Tyler wore his hair in a Mohawk, and he was opening the trunk of his car. The boys went into a huddle behind the trunk lid.

Ethan pulled out his phone and typed a text message to Pomeroy and Clayton.

Looks like a go. March and friend met up. Keep watch.

But the boys didn’t close the trunk and get in the car. Instead, they appeared on the sidewalk carrying...shit. Gas cans. Austin had a bag slung over his shoulder, too. And they were skulking back toward Austin’s house, which meant they’d pass within a few feet of Ethan.

He gave thought to stopping them
now
, but, while carrying gas cans, matches and red spray paint would be plenty suggestive, it wasn’t as good as catching them in the act. So he quit breathing and averted his face as the two passed.

“You sure they’re asleep?” one of the two whispered. Had to be Tyler.

If there was an answer, he didn’t hear it.

He was unsurprised, but also stunned in a way he never quite got over, no matter what atrocities he saw. That the kid wanted to kill his stepfather, Ethan got. He had a suspicion Gelfman was abusive. But, unless part of young Austin’s plan was a heroic rescue of his mother, he was planning to burn her alive, too.

That took a degree of anger combined with cold-bloodedness that he didn’t want to understand. Not ever.

He stayed where he was long enough to type another text.

Gelfman house is target. Need backup.

Send.

* * *

F
UNNY, HOW THINGS
played out. And what a man thought about at a time like this, watching a teenage boy spray paint a swastika on the front of his own house. Probably not because he was anti-Semitic, but instead as cover for a murder.