To Love a Cop

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He told her, and she promised to call to officially sign Jake up and pay the minimal fee.

  “Can I offer you dinner Tuesday before the class?”

  He wasn’t fooled by how elaborately casual she sounded. Some anxiety vibrated in her voice. He couldn’t help wondering. Did she want reassurance about Jake, about letting him handle guns? Or...was she asking because she wanted to see him, and feared it had never crossed his mind to make their relationship personal?

  Man, he hoped the answer was number two.

  “I’d appreciate that,” he said. “That way Jake can go with me, unless you want to come along and watch.”

  The tiny pool of silence didn’t surprise him.

  “He’d probably rather I didn’t come.”

  “He’s a boy,” Ethan said gently.

  “I didn’t even have a brother. Raising a boy is...challenging.”

  “If it’s any consolation, my mother says my sister gave her more heartburn than I did.”

  “That’s not what you said earlier.” Her voice was teasing.

  “Oh, I was a pain in the ass, but Carla was a mass of screaming hormones for at least two years. Even I was scared of her.”

  Laura was giggling when they signed off, Ethan smiling in satisfaction.

  * * *

  “NUMBER ONE IS the golden rule of gun safety. Anyone already know this?”

  A girl who looked to be fourteen or fifteen raised her hand. “Never point your gun at anything you don’t want to shoot.”

  Ethan nodded. “That’s one way to put it. When you’re handling a gun of any kind, point it in a safe direction. Not at a person, not at your dog, not at your mom’s favorite lamp.” He looked from one face to the next. “Safest place is at the ground, but not too close to your feet.” Holding the unloaded .22 rifle, he demonstrated.

  The kids were rapt, even though safety rules were pretty basic. Never touch the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Keep the gun unloaded until you’re ready to use it. Check to see if the gun is loaded every time you pick it up. Don’t rely on a gun’s safety catch. Never try to take a gun away from someone by grabbing the barrel.

  Never fool around with a gun. No Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers games.

  Ethan didn’t look directly at Jake when he said that one, but with his peripheral vision he saw him duck his head.

  Ethan talked about some other dangers and rules, emphasizing that anyone handling a gun had to be aware not only of their target, but of what was surrounding that target and behind it.

  “You might be accurate on the range, but shooting a deer on the run or a duck taking off from a pond is another story. You’re tracking the movement, getting excited. What if there’s another hunter on the other side of the pond? What if you’re shooting tin cans off the fence at your uncle’s farm and you didn’t notice a horse wandering in the pasture behind that fence?”

  He had them do some role-playing, let them handle several rifles he’d borrowed from Ken for the purpose, after elaborately checking to be sure they were unloaded even though he had, of course, done so before starting the class.

  This first class, they talked about gun care, too. About trigger locks and gun safes. He paired them up and had each pair clean a .22 rifle, in part to help them understand what each part did, but also because a clean gun was a safer gun.

  They all worked earnestly, although he could tell that, for about half the kids, he wasn’t saying anything they didn’t know and that they were already pretty comfortable handling the .22s. He appreciated their parents putting them through a class anyway.

  He promised to give them a little time the next week on the range, and told them he was trying to book an extra hour at an outdoor range that would give them a different experience.

  When the two hours were up, he spent another twenty minutes talking to parents. While he waited, Jake stared into the glass-fronted cabinets at handguns for sale.

  Ken had hung around tonight, and he talked easily to Jake while Ethan was busy.

  “See you next week,” he said when they left, as if he hadn’t noticed anything amiss about Jake’s interest.

  On the drive home, Jake grumbled about not having been able to shoot tonight, but he also asked some eager questions and talked about the other kids in the class.

  “I didn’t think there’d be girls. And one of them, Amber, says she already knows all this stuff. Her dad takes her target shooting all the time, and she says her mom hunts, too.”

  “There are quite a few women who compete all the way up to an international level in target shooting, too.”

  “Girls don’t usually talk about guns.”

  Ethan laughed. “Better not say girls in quite that tone around your mom. And if you lived in a more rural part of the state, I think you’d find more girls interested. For men and women, hunting is a less common interest among an urban population.”

  “How come you don’t hunt?”

  “I take carrying a gun too seriously to want to do it for fun. Plus, I like animals. I don’t want to shoot one.”

  “But you eat meat.”

  Ethan grimaced. “You’ve got me there. I’m probably a hypocrite. But the truth is I don’t need to take a deer every year to keep meat in my freezer the way some folks do. If I’d grown up hunting, it might be different. As it is, I like to hike, I’ve done some mountain climbing, I love windsurfing, I play basketball, I run for exercise and do some weight lifting.” He glanced at Jake. “Do you play any sports?”

  “I did Little League until this year. And I play basketball. Mom said I might be able to do some sport camps this summer. Did you play college ball?”

  “I did. Portland State. If it’s okay with your mother, maybe this weekend we could find a hoop and play some one-on-one.” Maybe Laura would want to play, too, or come watch. Offer to feed him lunch, he thought hopefully.

  “I couldn’t defend against you,” the boy said indignantly. “You’re really tall.”

  Ethan laughed. “No, but we can play Horse, practice our free throws and layups. Just have fun.”

  “Yeah! That would be cool.”

  “Good.” He pulled up in front of Jake’s house. “I’ll call. And see you next week, if not before. Ask your mom about this weekend, but be warned that sometimes I end up having to work.”

  “You don’t want to come in?” Jake sounded disappointed.

  “I’d better not,” Ethan said, even though there was nothing he’d have liked better. But...she’d had him to dinner. She’d blushed a couple of times. Once, their fingers had brushed when she passed him a dish, and she’d stopped talking midsentence and gone very still, a hint of yearning in her eyes.

  Or so he’d convinced himself.

  No, he wasn’t going to push it.

  And...he’d better think long and hard before he spent any more time with Laura Vennetti anyway. He had a hard time picturing her having casual affairs. Anything else—they had some major strikes against them. It really might be smarter not to start anything.

  But he waited until Jake let himself in the front door, only then acknowledging how disappointed he was not to catch a glimpse of Laura.

  And admitting how much he wanted to see her again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ETHAN WAITED JUST inside Laura Vennetti’s front door for Jake to change into basketball shoes. She hovered politely, giving him a chance to scan her dirty, ripped jeans and ragged flannel shirt—none of which disguised the lush curves he’d like to linger on but didn’t.

  “I’m feeling guilty,” he said after a brief silence that had the potential to become awkward. “I could help scrape the deck instead of taking your helper away from you.”

  She sneaked a look over her shoulder toward the hall, and still lowered her voice. “Take him away. Please,” she begged, surprising a laugh from him. “He whines more than he works.”

  Still grinning, he said, “Is this where I admit I don’t blame him? It sounds like a crappy job.” />
  Her freckled nose crinkled. “It is a crappy job, but I think I can mostly finish today. Especially if I’m left alone to do it in peace. Painting is bound to be more fun.”

  He looked past her to see Jake approaching. “You set?” Ethan asked.

  “Yeah.” The boy sounded eager. “You’re not coming, are you, Mom?”

  “And now I feel so welcome.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “No, I’m not. But I was about to invite Ethan to stay to lunch when you get back if he’d like.”

  “I’d love to stay,” he said without hesitation.

  Her smile was more uncomplicated than any he’d yet seen. It lit her face. And, yes, he’d been right; her eyes were a brighter blue when she was happy.

  “Good,” she said, bumping her shoulder against her son’s as he passed. “Have fun.”

  Talking idly about nothing in particular, they drove to Jake’s school, which had the closest available outdoor courts. Despite the lack of rain, the sky was sullen enough they could have one hoop to themselves, Ethan was glad to find.

  It felt good to palm a basketball, to feel the flow of muscles as he let loose of some long jump shots. He played often enough he hadn’t lost the instincts, the reflexes. Funny, though, how long it had been since he’d played on an asphalt schoolyard court like this.

  Ethan shot from way outside and watched as the ball dropped through the rim and Jake snagged it. Hit by memories, he said, “Man, I spent hours at a school near my house when I was your age, doing nothing but shooting. Half the time there wasn’t any net. I was sure I’d be an NBA star.”

  “How come you’re not?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t know if I’d have made it or not, and I doubt I’d have been a star no matter what. But by then I’d changed my mind. I loved playing college ball, though.”

  “You’re tall enough to play pro, aren’t you?”

  “Probably. I’m almost six foot four. I played forward for Portland State, but I might have been able to move to guard.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of good college ball players, though, who had the same dreams I did. It’s probably just as well I’d moved on. If nothing else, pro ball isn’t a career that lasts long. One knee injury can end it just like that.” He snapped his fingers, and then beckoned for the ball, which Jake bounced to him. “Can you shoot from the free throw line yet?”

  The boy grimaced. “Kind of.”

  They worked on it for a while, Ethan offering a few suggestions and Jake noticeably improving, before Ethan asked how his week had gone at school. “You try standing up for yourself?” he asked.

  Jake gave a stiff shrug. “I said what you suggested to a couple of people. I don’t know. Mostly people are still looking funny at me.”

  “They’ll get over it.” Ethan stole the ball from him, dribbled a couple of times and did an effortless slam dunk. Aware of the openmouthed stare from a group of boys playing a short distance away, Ethan felt some amusement at himself. Showboating, were you? He tipped his head toward the boys. “That anyone you know?”

  Jake didn’t look. “One is in my class. Another of those guys used to be a friend. Ron.”

  Ethan made an acknowledging sound. “What d’ya say we dazzle ’em, then?”

  “Yeah!”

  They played hard, Jake’s layups getting smoother, his moves as he tried to steal the ball from Ethan sneakier. When they finally decided to quit, Ethan waited until they were walking past the other boys before he said easily, “Practice, and you’ll play varsity, no problem. You’re good for your age.”

  Jake flushed with pleasure. “Thanks. I mean—that’d be cool, you know?”

  Ethan tapped him lightly on the back. They were past being in earshot of the little shits who’d snubbed Jake. “Looks like you might get some height from your mom, too. I don’t think your dad was tall enough to seriously play basketball.”

  “He played baseball in high school.” His forehead crinkled. “I think football, too, but mostly he was a really great first baseman.”

  Hearing how uncertain but also defiant he sounded, Ethan had to wonder how well the boy remembered his father. Ethan’s own memories before age six or seven were pretty skimpy. Did Laura try to keep Matt’s memory alive for his son, or had too much anger gotten in the way?

  “I played on a baseball team with your dad one year,” he commented as he buckled his seat belt and put the key in the ignition of his SUV. “You know, just for fun. Our team was made up of firefighters and police officers. You’re right, your dad was dynamite at first base. Hell of a hitter, too. I’d kind of forgotten.”

  “I wish I’d seen,” Jake said sadly.

  Counting back, Ethan said, “If you were born at all then, you’d have been only a baby. Your mom might have brought you to games.”

  “You didn’t see her?”

  “If I met her, I don’t remember.” He had trouble now imagining how he could ever have set eyes on Laura Vennetti and forgotten her, but he’d been married himself then and not looking. In fact, if he’d really noticed her, he would have made a point after that of not looking.

  “I bet you were a good baseball player, too.”

  “I wasn’t bad, but basketball was always my sport.” He flicked on his windshield wipers and said unnecessarily, “It’s starting to rain.”

  “Mom won’t like that.”

  Ethan grinned. “No, she won’t.”

  When they let themselves into the house, she was just emerging from what he guessed was her bedroom down the hall. Her hair, loose now, gleamed, and she’d changed to clean jeans and a V-neck sweater snug-fitting enough to cause his body to stir.

  “You quit before you got wet,” she said, seeming pleased to see them. “I didn’t even know the rain had started until I got out of the shower.”

  “You finished with the deck?” Ethan asked.

  “It’s as scraped as it’s going to get. Who knows when I’ll be able to paint now, though. The forecast isn’t very promising.”

  “I noticed.” He and Jake both followed her to the kitchen.

  She turned to see them looking expectant and laughed. “I cheated. I called to order a pizza. It should be here any minute. What do you want to drink?”

  They had a brief skirmish, but Ethan insisted on paying for the pizza when it arrived, and Laura didn’t seem too disgruntled. Conversation flowed as they ate. Ethan nodded when told about the basketball camp Jake wanted to take that summer and repeated what he’d said at the school. Flushing with pleasure, Jake told her about how Ethan had dunked the ball.

  “Like it was easy,” he marveled. “And he makes baskets from way out. I wish I could do that.”

  “I couldn’t when I was your age, either.” Ethan reached for another slice of pizza. “You’re not tall enough yet and your hands aren’t big enough. Plus, it took a lot of practice.”

  “The school is too far for me to go over there whenever I want,” Jake grumbled.

  Ethan had had a thought about that, but figured it wasn’t something he should say to Laura in front of her kid. He’d wait.

  Laura talked about her week at work, and he did the same. He’d made an arrest on an assault case he’d been pursuing for a while, and was working with the DA’s office now to make sure there were no holes in the case that might result in an acquittal.

  “I do enjoy arresting someone who thinks he’s gotten away with something crummy,” he admitted when Jake asked. “It’s one of the pleasures of the job.”

  Jake leaned forward, his expression almost as avid as when he’d looked at handguns. “What else do you especially like?”

  It was obvious Laura was alarmed by the question. Ethan was amused to meet her hard stare, daring him to give the wrong answer.

  “Hmm,” he said, giving himself a minute to think about how he would answer. It wasn’t a common question. Probably a good thing, given that the satisfaction and frustration, boredom and adrenaline became so entangled, picking them apart was no easy task. “I meet good people
along with the bad,” he said at last. “I like helping people. Giving them justice even if I can’t put everything back the way it was before the crime was committed.” He smiled faintly. “Becoming a detective was my goal from the beginning because I enjoy puzzles. Putting all those pieces together until the picture is whole. That aha! moment can’t be beat.”

  Jake looked appalled. “That’s the best part? Not...I don’t know...the way people look up to you?”

  “No.” Ethan’s smile widened. “It’s true that in certain circumstances I need respect from people, even a little fear. But most day-to-day policing goes better if I can connect with people. Encourage openness.”

  The boy sneaked a look at his mother that Ethan didn’t understand, then burst out, “Is that what Dad thought, too?”

  “He seemed like a good cop to me, when we worked together.” Ethan kept his voice relaxed, friendly, instinctively trying to ratchet down any tension between Laura and Jake. “People liked Matt. He had a gift for talking people down from whatever cliff they’d climbed up on. He could calm an enraged guy or a distraught woman like no one else I ever knew. I told him he should think about training to become a negotiator. I don’t know if he considered that later.”

  “If he did, he didn’t tell me,” Laura said. “But he was really good at cooling tempers. I’d kind of forgotten. I’ll bet family get-togethers have been way more tempestuous without him.”

  Ethan heard the wryness in that. The family hadn’t had to do without their peacekeeper. They could have chosen to forgive his mistake, however terrible the result had been, to support him when he needed them as he never had before. Instead, they’d turned their backs, with yet more terrible results.

  Jake seemed not to have heard the subtext. His face scrunched as he appeared to struggle to pull up memories of his father. “Mostly I remember Dad being fun.” His eyes focused on Ethan again. “Wrestling with me, laughing, helping me learn to throw the ball. Stuff like that. Oh!” He brightened. “And he had a motorcycle. Was it a Harley, Mom?” He saw her nod, but didn’t see her expression. “He’d take me on drives. Just slow, like around the block, but I thought it was the best.”