“No.” Had she ever even made a decision that, yes, she was going to make love with Ethan?
Maybe not consciously, but there seemed no question the decision had been made. If it had been possible, right this minute, she’d have been reaching for his belt buckle.
“Damn,” he muttered.
They stayed like that for a good two or three minutes, their breathing slowly becoming something approximating normal. She hadn’t realized how tense his body was until she felt the muscles easing.
Finally he lifted his head, his eyes dark in the dimness. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“You don’t have to.” She had the presence of mind to release the seat belt, which, come to think of it, had been slicing between her breasts and across her belly. “Jake would notice.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we tell him we’re, uh...”
“What? Making out behind his back?”
He smiled at the old-fashioned term. What should she call it? Getting it on? To her regret, they hadn’t yet managed that.
“Let’s call it dating,” he said. “Tell him I’m your boyfriend.”
“Are you?” Dismayed, Laura heard how breathless she sounded.
“Yeah.” He kissed her again, quick and firm. “If that’s okay with you.”
She had to close her eyes against the unexpected sting. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
“Good.”
He straightened away from her, and she opened her eyes to see him unfastening his own seat belt and opening his door. Laura grabbed her purse and got out. He gently put her in front of him instead of trying to stay beside her on the narrow, concrete walkway, but kept his hand resting on her shoulder.
“You don’t mind if I wait to tell him until, I don’t know, it feels like a good moment?”
“Nope. I won’t say anything until you do.”
Climbing the few steps to the porch, they both saw the flicker of the television. Ethan kissed her one more time. “Lunch tomorrow?”
“Are you taking the day off?”
“I don’t think so. Too much going on. So I can’t promise, but I’ll call, okay?” At her nod, he reached past her to open the front door.
Laura smiled shakily. “Good night.” It felt as if they’d just crossed some threshold, and not the one in front of her.
She loved his smile. “’Night,” he murmured, then raised his voice. “See you Tuesday.”
“Yeah!” Jake called back.
Laura couldn’t help turning to watch Ethan lope back across the yard to his SUV. She saw the flash of white that was his grin when he got there and saw her.
Clutching a very warm, fuzzy feeling to herself, she went in.
* * *
MONDAY, SAM CLAYTON and Ethan divided up tasks. Sam took Ethan’s lists and continued making calls in pursuit of the stolen mannequin. He agreed with Ethan’s belief that they’d find a connection between the store from which it had been taken and their perp.
Meantime, Ethan made the round of synagogues in search of disaffected boys. He found rabbis reluctant to disclose names, but a few did and others inadvertently gave away enough that he was able to speak to temple members who were willing to talk. Back at his desk, he researched fourteen names, a couple of whom he decided were worth speaking to personally. No one name lit up for him.
Pomeroy was frustrated because he couldn’t offer any useful information. If the fires had been set inside the homes, they’d be more likely to find some kind of trace evidence. Any kind of device would give them something to work with. But anyone could splash a little gas and toss a match or lighter. Of course, those same somebodies were taking a serious risk of getting burned when the vapor in the air caught fire, but so far that apparently hadn’t happened. Pomeroy had checked with emergency rooms across the city in search of burns treated the night of the fires or the following days, with no leads.
“The idiots have just gotten lucky so far,” he growled, and Ethan agreed.
Unfortunately, he, Clayton and Ethan all had other investigations competing for their attention, and Ethan wasn’t sure what they could do but hadn’t already. The simpler a crime, the more likely the perpetrator was to get away with it. Their best hope was an honest-to-God witness, somebody who got a license plate number, for example, but the fires were being set in middle-class neighborhoods where few people were out and about at night.
Frustrated, Ethan knew he had no choice but to devote the next day to a different investigation. Plus side—he’d be having dinner with Laura and Jake.
* * *
“WHY CAN’T WE go now?” It was Tuesday night, and Jake stared in disbelief at Ethan, who was leaning comfortably back in his chair and who’d just agreed he’d like a second cup of coffee.
Despite his apparent relaxation, there was no flexibility in the hard look he was giving Jake or in his voice. “Like I told you last time, I see no reason to get there early. I’ve already put in an eight-hour day. This is my break. I’m enjoying talking to your mother. You don’t need to spend half an hour drooling over weapons you’re not old enough to handle.”
The explosion of rage Jake felt scared him. “You said you’d let me try them.” His voice shook.
“When I think you’re ready. This attitude tells me you’re not.”
“You’re some guy who teaches the class. You’re not my mom or dad.” Part of him was horrified at what he’d said and at the way Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Part of him was glad. Sometimes he’d caught himself wishing Ethan was his father, but that made him feel sick.
“I’m the guy deciding when—or if—you spend any time at the gun range. Whether you go tonight, in fact.”
So much swirling inside him he couldn’t name, Jake was vaguely aware his mother stood beside the table with her eyes dark with shock. Her silence gave Ethan the right to say what he had.
Jake whirled and raced from the room. There wasn’t anywhere to go except his bedroom, unless he took off.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could get away with that. Where would he go? Any of his friends’ parents would just call Mom. If a police officer saw him, he’d get picked up, same as when Ethan spotted him at the gun show.
Frustration and the inchoate need he didn’t understand tangled inside him.
I’ll tell him to forget taking me. He’s never going to let me shoot anything but the dumb .22 at the range anyway.
Outside his bedroom, he hesitated, but if they were talking, he couldn’t hear their voices. Because they hadn’t heard his bedroom door. Understanding, he opened it and, an instant later, slammed it. As if he’d gone in.
Now he could sneak back and listen to what they were saying about him.
Only, then he had an idea. A breathtaking idea.
Mom had hung Ethan’s jacket on the coatrack inside the front door. Jake had heard the car keys in the pocket rattle.
The key to the glove compartment was on that ring, too.
He could sneak out. Just...hold the Glock for a minute. Kind of...look at it. Remember.
He heard the low rumble of Ethan’s voice, the higher sound of his mother’s. Last week, they’d talked until it was time to go and never once checked on him. They’d never know.
Jake crept down the hall.
Mom was talking. “I haven’t told him yet I scheduled...”
Peering from the shadows, he saw that Ethan’s back was to him and he was blocking Mom’s sight line to the hall.
Jake hurried past, slid a shaking hand into the pocket of Ethan’s leather jacket, gripped the keys tightly and opened the front door as quietly as he could.
CHAPTER NINE
“WHAT DO YOU want to do?” Laura asked.
“I’m sure as hell not in the mood to take him, but...shit.” Ethan exhaled. “He already thinks I’m not keeping promises. It’s understandable that he resents me calling him on his behavior. In his view, taking his father’s place.”
“Understandable?” Face pale so that
her freckles stood out, she looked at him like he was nuts. “He’s admitted to me he wouldn’t remember Matt’s face if not for pictures.”
“And he probably feels guilty for that.” The thought nudged another one. “If he blames himself for his father’s death, too...”
“Then he believes he has to cling to whatever memory he does have of Matt,” she said with a sigh. “Be loyal to him.”
“That’s my take,” Ethan agreed, although he didn’t like the understanding. Face it: he had been trying to step in as a father figure. If he and Laura were going anywhere serious—and, if he had his way, they were—part of that would be Jake accepting him as a stepfather, at least.
Plus...Jake needed more than a distant memory of the father who had both betrayed him by leaving that goddamn gun out and then abandoned him by killing himself. A hell of a lot more.
Witness his struggles now.
Suddenly uneasy for no reason he could put his finger on, Ethan cocked his head. “I don’t hear him.”
“He’s sulking. He does that quietly.”
The prickling sensation on the back of his neck was something he never ignored. “I’m going to check on him.” Ethan made sure the chair didn’t scrape back, and from long practice he was able to walk silently the short distance to the boy’s bedroom. There, he rapped lightly then without waiting opened the door.
The room was empty.
He swore and spun on his heel, running to the front door.
“Ethan?” Looking scared, Laura appeared from the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
He dug his hand in his coat pocket and found it empty. “Jesus,” he breathed, and tore out the door.
With sunset over an hour away, he saw the boy right away, sitting on the passenger side of the Yukon. His head was bent until he must have heard the front door of the house and he looked up. For a moment he went completely still, his mouth forming a circle.
Ethan hadn’t been kidding when he’d told them he moved fast. He reached the SUV and was wrenching the passenger door open before Jake could slam the glove compartment.
Ethan closed a hand hard around the boy’s thin wrist. Checking to be sure the Glock was pointed away—it had no safety—he squeezed inexorably until Jake’s hand opened and the gun dropped with a faint clunk to the bottom of the glove compartment.
“So much for trusting you.” He loosened his grip slightly but didn’t let go. What he did do was close the compartment, lock it and take the keys. “Back in the house,” he said grimly, and pulled him out of the vehicle.
The boy didn’t say a word. He hunched like a turtle and wouldn’t look up. Laura waited on the porch, her fingers pressed to her mouth. Ethan towed him to his mother, and then all but tossed him inside.
“Sit,” he ordered.
“I don’t have to!” the boy blazed.
Ethan got his hand on the thin shoulder and pressed him down on the sofa. “Yeah, you do. You’re in deep trouble here. I could arrest you and haul your ass to juvie.”
“What?” His head shot up. “You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.” He couldn’t remember being so mad, and that was something considering the shit he saw every day. This was different—it was personal.
“Ethan—” Laura said behind him.
He shot her a narrow-eyed look. By God, if she jumped in on the kid’s side, he just might have to arrest him.
Looking stunned, she closed her mouth on whatever she’d been about to say.
He crossed his arms and stared down at the defiant boy. “What were you going to do with that gun? Shoot me? Shoot your mother? Shoot yourself?”
“No!” Jake half rose, then sagged back onto the sofa. He scooted back, as far as he could get from the man looming over him. “I just wanted to see it!”
“You had it out of the holster, in your hands. That’s not looking.”
“I just wanted— I don’t know what I wanted!” he cried. “But not to shoot anybody!”
Ethan shook his head, and then scraped a hand over his face. “Damn. I don’t have time to deal with this. I owe it to the other kids to show up at the range.” He backed away. “You violated my trust. You’re out of the class. Right now, I’m going to leave you in your mother’s hands.” Deliberately, he turned his back on the boy. “Laura, I’ll call you later. We need to talk.”
“I... Yes.” Her voice was small, shocked.
All he could do was nod, snag his jacket and walk out.
* * *
LAURA HAD NEVER felt as out of her depth as a parent as she did right now. It was all she could do not to run after Ethan and plead for him not to leave.
But she knew he was right; he had made a commitment and needed to keep it. And Jake was her problem.
She was used to dealing with her problems on her own.
He started to leap up again, undoubtedly with the intention of racing to his room to shut himself in.
“Sit down!” she snapped.
He took a scared look at her face and complied.
“What were you thinking?”
“I just wanted to look at it! I told you.”
She shook her head. “You went to the gun show to look. How many handguns did you see there?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Then there are all the pretty pictures you keep under your mattress.” She raised her eyebrows at his expression. “You thought I didn’t know?”
No answer was necessary or forthcoming.
“You will start counseling.” She made sure there was no give in her voice. “Dr. Redmond recommended a therapist. You have an appointment Thursday after school.”
“Maybe he likes to shoot guns!” her son cried.
“If he does, we’ll find someone else.”
“Ethan shoots them,” he said disagreeably. “It was his gun.”
Yes, that bothered her. The knowledge that he usually carried one was an ever-present niggle she’d been able to avoid acknowledging until now. But she refused to let Jake see her unease.
“His gun,” she agreed, “which, to comply with my wishes, he had locked up in his vehicle. Which was also locked.”
Dark color stained her son’s cheeks. After one wild look, he bent his head as if hoping she couldn’t see his face.
Laura sank wearily onto the coffee table in front of him. “Jake, don’t you understand that this...compulsion is troubling? Can’t you see why it worries me?”
After a moment he nodded.
“I’m going to take those magazines and catalogs.”
His head came up fast enough to get him whiplash. “You can’t—”
“I can and I will.” She lifted a hand. “I won’t throw them away yet. Recycle them,” she corrected herself. “Not until we’ve talked to this new therapist. Instead, I’ll be hiding them. I’m asking you now not to get any more. No buying, no picking up the catalogs wherever you have been.”
His chocolate-brown eyes, the same color as Matt’s, were so dilated they appeared black. Again, she felt a shudder of fear that she knew was really for him.
This was her fault. She’d let herself be lulled into complacency. Stopped the sessions with a counselor after a year because she didn’t think they were doing any good, without understanding that she should have found another one. Jake had seemed to be doing so well. He was so young. She’d deceived herself that events had become blurred to him; he’d been too young to know what had really happened.
I was wrong.
“Your dad would be glad to know Ethan is spending time with you.”
“He’s trying to act like my dad and he isn’t!” he said violently.
“No, but—” He could be. “He’s been good to you,” she said instead.
“He lied to me.”
She knew better, but tried reason. “Did he say, ‘Jake, I’ll let you shoot my gun at the range in the next two weeks? Three weeks?’”
His sullen look said no, Ethan’s promise hadn’t included a time frame.
“Y
ou’re old enough to be more patient than this, and to understand that you have to earn some privileges.”
His shoulders jerked. “I don’t care. I don’t want to go with him.”
Oh, God. This was definitely not the moment to say, Oh, by the way, Ethan and I are dating, so he’s going to be around whether you like it or not.
Maybe she should cool things until... She didn’t know when. Jake became more accepting? With him so troubled, was this the time to introduce the concept of Mom having a boyfriend? Oh, God, she didn’t know, but— I need him.
Jake needs him, too, she told herself, and believed it, except that, clearly, Jake also resented Ethan.
“All right,” she said, pushing herself to her feet, wishing she felt steadier. “Come with me.”
He trailed her down the hall, thank heavens. Increasingly she’d asked herself: What could she do if someday he said no? He was almost as big as she was now. She had no doubt that in another year he’d shoot past her in height.
Shoot. The word made her wince. Grow past her.
He watched in dark silence as she hefted his mattress high enough to pull out the entire collection and dump it on the carpet. Then she straightened and looked at him. “Is this all of them?”
He thought about lying, she could tell, then apparently realized that he’d be in even bigger trouble if she actually searched his room. Without a word, he went to his closet, pulling down a box that held some once-loved childhood toys he hadn’t wanted to get rid of. Laura shuddered at the sight of an issue of Shooting Times lying atop a well-worn Pooh bear.
She snatched it and several others and dumped them on the floor with the rest.
“Did you steal these?” she asked.
“No!” His outrage seemed genuine. “I have my allowance money!”
“Which I am suspending until I have more faith in you.”
He glared. She glared right back, then scooped and gathered up the entire pile of slick magazines and catalogs.
“You won’t throw them away?” he begged.
“For now, I won’t.”
“You mean, you still might?”
Her heart squeezed at the panic in his voice. He was willing to humble himself to protect this hideous, awful collection.
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