To Love a Cop

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Why she kept trying to smile when the timing was inappropriate, she had no idea. It was a woman’s failing, a need to soften harsh truths. “I suppose I do.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, her remembering the blinding rage she’d felt when Matt’s sister Emiliana had called and then when Mama Vennetti did the same. Maybe, she thought wretchedly, I can’t forgive them unless I can also forgive myself. And...I don’t know if that will ever happen. If I deserve forgiveness.

  So it turned out she understood the concept of forgiveness after all. Sorry, Mama. It was only the execution that was lacking.

  What was it Mama had said? That they’d made the mistake of letting Matteo think they didn’t love him?

  I made that mistake, too. And hers had been the greater sin. Mama had had to think about her other children, especially Rinaldo, grieving for his child. For her other grandson, the one dead because of Matt’s carelessness. But the two people I was supposed to love most in the world were Jake and Matt. And I failed Matt.

  “I did the same thing this morning,” she heard herself say, stricken. “To Ethan. He needed me—” To love him, not to judge him. Nothing she could say to Jake.

  “Uh-uh. It was different,” Jake startled her by saying. “Dad did something bad. But I’ll bet Ethan didn’t.”

  “Do anything wrong?”

  “Yeah!” He stared at her almost defiantly. “You should have trusted him.”

  He might as well have whacked her a good one. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “I should have.”

  “He wouldn’t shoot anyone who wasn’t trying to kill him. Or maybe someone else.”

  “No. He wouldn’t.” Her certainty filled her with a glorious sense of peace that was almost immediately tainted by shame. Of course Jake was right. She knew Ethan better than that. His kindness, his patience, the care he took in everything he did. “I’ll bet the minute he disarmed that boy, he went right to work trying to save his life.”

  “That’s what I think, too.” Jake lifted a hopeful gaze to hers. “So will you tell him you’re sorry?”

  She gave a tremulous smile. “I...already did. I left him a message earlier. If I get the chance, I’ll say it again. But, well, you know that saying, too little, too late? I’m afraid that applies here.”

  He frowned. “You mean, he won’t forgive you?”

  “Or...he won’t be able to feel the same about me. When you need someone and they let you down...” She shrugged, not letting him see how painfully those words resonated. I really didn’t learn my lesson. “But I meant it when I said I was sure he’d be around to see you.”

  Jake nodded unhappily.

  The oven timer chimed and she pushed herself to her feet to take out the pizza she had no appetite to eat.

  After slicing it and carrying it and plates to the table, she looked at her son. “I’ll tell you what this makes me realize.”

  “What?”

  “It’s time we let your grandmother and your aunt say they’re sorry. It doesn’t mean we have to accept their invitations and let them envelop us in family again—that part is entirely up to you—but refusing even to listen, that’s wrong.” Unchristian, she thought wryly. Oh, how she hated ever to admit Mama Vennetti was right.

  Her son pondered what she’d said, and then finally nodded. “If you can do it, I can, too.”

  Now she smiled at him and meant it. “We’re tough.”

  “Grandma Vennetti was an awful good cook,” he reflected. “I bet she never made Dad eat anything like this when he was growing up.” Then he took an enthusiastic bite of pizza.

  Even as Laura laughed, her heart ached. Because Ethan should have been here.

  * * *

  ETHAN LAY IN bed staring at the ceiling. Light shifted across it whenever a car passed down below, despite the closed blinds. He should be sleepy. It had been...he had to count, but his exhausted mind balked. Something like thirty hours since he’d last slept. Hell, he thought, at least I can sleep in tomorrow. The only thing on his schedule was Sunday dinner at his parents’. Maybe after that he should take off—it was too early in the season for backpacking in the mountains, but he could do something over on the coast. But that made him think of Seaside, and he winced.

  Okay, go stay with his sister. Play uncle. The kid would probably be glad to stay home from day care a few days. They could do the aquarium, the Woodland Park Zoo, eat fish-and-chips at Spud’s. Carla probably had friends she’d happily introduce him to. He could take a woman out. Maybe one would even invite him home with her. Some mindless sex might wipe out the memory of sex that...hadn’t been mindless.

  He swore, grabbed the spare pillow and slapped it down over his face.

  No, he didn’t want mindless sex.

  She’s not Erin, you know.

  Of course he knew that. Erin had turned out to be shallow. She hadn’t liked his job because it interfered with their social life. He groaned. No, even Erin wasn’t that shallow. She’d resented his job because she thought he too often chose it over her. She was threatened by it. Maybe he’d even have felt the same, if she had been often unavailable because she was consumed by her work that she loved. Hell, they’d both been young.

  No matter what, Laura’s issues ran a whole lot deeper. He’d known that.

  Dragging the pillow off his face again, he went back to staring at the shifting light on the ceiling.

  When I went by her place this morning, was I testing her?

  Did it matter? Whether he’d set her up consciously or not, she’d failed. Big red F. Circled.

  Because she didn’t immediately throw her arms around him the way his mother had?

  Wasn’t that enough? he asked himself.

  Had he really given her a chance? What if he’d said, Can I come in, Laura? If he’d told her what happened. Why he pulled the trigger. About his frantic attempt to stem the bleeding despite the knowledge that this kid had intended to burn down his house with his mother and stepfather in it.

  What had she really said that was so wrong? Memories swirled like a kaleidoscope. Her horror at the idea the boy might have died. I saw you on the news, so I knew— Him being an asshole. What did you know, Laura? Her shock. The way she’d clung to the door frame, as if her legs were giving out. He wondered if her fingernails had left gouges. The anguish in her voice as she called after him. Why didn’t you tell me, Ethan?

  Why didn’t I?

  Because he’d been afraid. Because he hadn’t trusted her to see past her fears.

  Which she hadn’t.

  Ethan swore and punched the pillow.

  No, he hadn’t given her a chance, because he was so damn sure she’d let him down when he did. Big tough cop, couldn’t take a real risk.

  He still wondered if he had the guts to take that risk, let himself get hurt and trust the woman he loved would learn to trust him.

  The safe thing was to let it go. Let her go. Figure out how to keep his promise and spend some time with Jake without seeing Jake’s mother.

  Rigid, he lay staring at that damn ceiling until his eyes burned.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHEN THE DOORBELL rang the next morning right after breakfast, Jake catapulted out of his seat and raced for the front door. It had to be Ethan, it had to be.

  He flung open the door, and he’d been right. “Ethan!”

  His hero gave him a funny half smile. “Hey.”

  “Jake?” Mom called, sounding alarmed. “Is someone here?”

  He ignored her. “You look awful.” The black eye and bruises were changing color, to purples and reds and yellows.

  Ethan grimaced. “I noticed. Uh...I came hoping we could go for a walk, or maybe take the basketball to the school.”

  All of Jake’s excitement crashed. “You’re not here to see Mom?”

  “She left me a message last night asking me to talk to you,” he said gently, his expression giving nothing away. “I want to make sure you know we’ll stay friends no matter what.”

/>   “But...”

  His gaze lifted, and Jake could tell it was Mom Ethan was looking at, but he said, “What do you say?”

  “Um, sure. If it’s okay with Mom.”

  She had stopped on the other side of the living room, almost in the hall. “Thank you for coming, Ethan,” she said, superpolite, as if he was someone she didn’t know very well. A father of one of Jake’s friends, maybe. “Of course you can go, Jake.” Then...then she turned and went into the kitchen.

  Jake felt really bad. He didn’t want to be friends, he wanted— I want him to be my dad, he admitted silently, now that it was too late. Mom wasn’t even going to try.

  He fetched his basketball, and they drove to the school. Kids were playing on both the hoops. Ethan said, “Can we just walk around the field?”

  Jake nodded. He stared down at his feet as they started out, him rolling the ball between his hands. Ethan didn’t say anything until they’d walked almost the whole length. Finally he let out a gust of breath.

  “I never told you or your mom that I’d shot and killed someone before.”

  Jake stopped. “How come?”

  “I suppose I knew what your mother would think about it.” He ran a hand over his head, messing up his hair. “But it wasn’t fair to you. I could have said I know what it feels like.”

  “Except it was different for you,” Jake mumbled. “I mean, you probably had to shoot the guy, instead of it being a big dumb, awful mistake.”

  “It’s true that the shooting I was involved in wasn’t a mistake,” Ethan agreed, letting the big and dumb part go, “but knowing you caused someone else’s death haunts you no matter what. It should haunt you. You should ask yourself whether you could have done something differently, what effect the decision you made is going to have on other people. It’s tough for an adult, and has to be way worse for a kid.”

  Jake toed the grass.

  “Friday night—” Ethan half turned away, yanked at his hair some more, then turned back. “I kept thinking about that conversation you and I had. Would I pull my weapon in that situation? Would they put up their hands?”

  Jake couldn’t help looking up at that. “They didn’t, did they?”

  “No. One of them took off. The other one had a gun of his own.”

  “Did he try to shoot you?”

  “He did. I still wouldn’t have shot him, except that I’d called for backup and a fellow officer was about to pull to the curb not very far from where that kid was hiding with a gun. There was no way to warn Lieutenant Pomeroy, and I couldn’t take a chance the boy would shoot him through the windshield or when he got out. Lieutenant Pomeroy is a fire investigator, not a cop. He started his career as a firefighter. He carries a gun now, but he isn’t as well trained in using it and his instincts aren’t the same as a cop’s, which puts him in even greater danger.”

  “Mom said you wouldn’t have shot anyone if you didn’t have to.”

  The expression on Ethan’s face shocked Jake. He didn’t even totally know what he was seeing, but he looked away because... It was like something he wasn’t meant to see.

  “She said that?” Ethan asked hoarsely.

  Jake nodded. “She said the minute the guy went down you’d probably raced over and tried to save his life.”

  “I did.” Still hoarse.

  Jake sneaked a look. “Is he dead?”

  “No, it looks like he’ll live to stand trial. He’s not eighteen, but I have no doubt he’ll be tried as an adult.”

  “For setting fires?”

  “And attempted murder. We have reason to think the vandalism and fires were just a screen so when he got to burning down his own house, no one would think he had anything to do with it.”

  “He was trying to kill his own family?” Jake’s voice squeaked at the end.

  Ethan put his big hand on Jake’s shoulder and squeezed in that way he had. “Stepfather for sure, maybe his mother, too. We’ll probably never know for sure. Right now, he’s not talking. His friend has said some things, but my suspicion is he was being used and is starting to realize that.”

  “Wow.”

  “No shit.” Ethan gave a half-assed grin. “Don’t tell your mom I said that.”

  “I won’t.”

  They turned left and paralleled the chain link fence across the back of the field where Jake and his friends played soccer and baseball for PE and at recess.

  “Did you hear what I said to your mother yesterday morning?”

  Jake nodded. “She kept going to try to talk to you and say she didn’t mean whatever you thought she’d done.”

  “I know. I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”

  “She hurt your feelings.”

  “Yeah.” He let out a long breath again. “The thing is, Jake...I think she hates what I do for a living. At least the part that involves carrying and using weapons. I hope I never have to shoot anyone again, but I can’t promise her I won’t. Mine’s a dangerous job.”

  “She cried,” Jake said abruptly, hoping Mom wouldn’t kill him for telling Ethan. “She never cries.”

  When he looked, he saw that Ethan had quit walking again. He’d bent his head, closed his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damn,” he said softly.

  “I thought it was my fault.” Jake talked fast, knowing he had to get this out. “Like always. Because if it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be so freaked by guns. You know? And Marco wouldn’t be dead, and Dad wouldn’t be, and...” It occurred to him that Ethan and Mom never would have met then, which had him stumbling to a stop. “At least you two wouldn’t have had the fight,” he concluded.

  “Jake, you know that’s not true,” Ethan said, frowning. “You’ve got to let go of thinking everything is on you.”

  “I said maybe I should do what Dad did,” he said defiantly, seeing shock in Ethan’s eyes. “Mom flipped out.” He scrunched up his face. “I told her I didn’t mean it. And I didn’t. I don’t! I think... I want to make everything different. You know? Like, if I can know what I’m doing with a gun like Dad’s, then I wouldn’t pull the trigger by accident and...I know I can’t go back! Except I wish I could,” he finished more softly.

  Ethan studied him for a long time. “That makes sense,” he said. “You need to feel competent with a gun in your hands. You know you can’t change what happened, but at least you’d know it never will again.”

  It sounded kind of dumb, but... “I guess.”

  Ethan nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to your mom. See if she’ll give us permission to start going to the range.”

  A couple of weeks ago, he’d have been really excited, but now he only felt cautious and...he didn’t know. “You mean that?”

  Ethan gripped his shoulder again briefly. “I usually mean what I say.”

  “But you must lie to people when you’re investigating them.”

  Ethan’s grin lightened the mood. “Damn straight.”

  “You swore again.”

  “Maybe she’ll wash my mouth out with soap. She ever do that to you?”

  “No!” Jake stared at him. “Did your mom?”

  He laughed. “No, but she threatened a few times.”

  “She’s really nice,” he said awkwardly. “Your mom, I mean. And your dad was cool, too.”

  “I’m lucky,” Ethan agreed. They were approaching the paved area behind the school, and the basketball court was still occupied. “What do you say we head back to your house?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Would he just leave? But they were almost to his SUV when Ethan looked at Jake. “I have a favor to ask of you. Once we get home, uh, could you give me a few minutes alone with your mom?”

  Yes! But instead of pumping his fist like he wanted, Jake shrugged as if to say, no big deal, and said a simple, “Okay.”

  * * *

  LEAVING JAKE PRACTICING LAYUPS, Ethan rang the doorbell. He could have had Jake let him in, but...man, she might not be willing to talk to him. Waiting, he was more nervous
than if he was serving a warrant on someone he knew was more likely to open fire than negotiate.

  The door opened and Laura appeared, surprise on her face when she saw him. “I didn’t hear your car.” She peered past him. “You can just come in if you need to use the bathroom, you know.”

  “I don’t need the bathroom.” He swallowed to try to relieve his throat. “I’m hoping you’ll be willing to talk to me.”

  For all that she’d endured, until now he had never thought the word fragile in relation to her. He hated that he was to blame. But she nodded, turned and walked to the same chair she’d chosen the first time he stepped foot in her living room. Accepting her need for some space, he took a seat on the sofa. Same end. Déjà vu.

  As he tried to find the right words, she beat him into speech.

  “Let me say something first. Whatever you thought yesterday was wrong. Hearing about what happened upset me, but I never for a second thought you’d shot that boy because— I don’t know. You wanted to hurt him. I know you did what you had to, and hated doing it. I know you better than to think anything else. And I wish—” Her lips pinched, but she never looked away from him. “I’d just told you I was sorry and asked how you were.”

  He felt lower than a slug, digesting nature’s refuse. “You don’t owe me an apology, Laura. I owe you one. I realized last night I came here expecting you to be judging me.” He had to say this. “Almost...challenging you to turn me away.”

  She stayed straight and dignified, but he would never forget the expression in her eyes when she said, “You wanted an excuse to end things.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I think I’ve been afraid all along that you wouldn’t be able to deal with what I do for a living.”

  Understanding replaced some of the pain he’d seen. “Because your wife couldn’t.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I suppose. And because damn near every other cop I know has been divorced at least once.”

  “And I lived up to your expectation.” She gave a sad excuse for a smile. “Or should I say down?”

  “No. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “You did.” There was the dignity again. She was not going to break and cry.