Lethal Rage by Brent Pilkey Page A

interesting and educational. I’m learning a lot.” It was his turn for a deliberate pause. “I’m surprised you’re not familiar with the area, Mrs. Hawthorn. A lot of the people you fight for live there.”
    Evelyn smiled and twirled her wineglass between perfectly manicured fingers. “I don’t get out of the office too much these days, Jack. The government is determined to drown our efforts in paperwork.”
    â€œWhat I’m worried about is Jack’s safety,” Karen put in, taking his hand. “He hardly ever mentioned guns or knives in 32 and now he runs into them almost every day.”
    Hawthorn wasn’t worrying about Jack’s safety. “Learning? What could you possibly be learning there? As I understand it, the policing is relatively straightforward. The drug trafficking is out in the open, so you simply go and arrest the . . . perps, is it? Or is that another American term?”
    â€œIt is. We say suspects.” Jack took a sip of coffee and again hoped no one ordered dessert.
    â€œSo what are you learning in such a . . . challenge-free environment?”
    Challenge-free?
Jack almost gagged on his coffee. “I’m learning to be a cop,” he said, almost snapping.
    Karen squeezed his hand and he forced his anger down for her. Hawthorn gazed at him calmly, a small, sly smile playing across his lips. He knew Jack had almost lost his temper and he wanted Jack to know it.
    â€œIf I want to get into a squad like Holdup or Drugs, I need the street-level experience 51 can give me.”
    â€œBut I thought being a police officer was only a temporary occupation until you finished your degree and found a bet . . . new job.”
    â€œNo, Mrs. Hawthorn, that was never the plan. I don’t want a different job and I can’t honestly imagine a
better
job either.” Just a slight emphasis to let her know he had caught her slip and what he thought of it.
    No one wanted dessert, thankfully, and when the bill came Jack reached for it, but Hawthorn beat him to it. “It’s on me, Jack.” He plunked down his credit card without looking at the bill. “Evie and I chose the restaurant and I know this isn’t exactly your normal dining experience. It would be unrealistic of me to expect you to pay for the meal.” His smile was as smug as it was gracious.
    Along with his professor’s salary, Hawthorn banked a nice amount from his lectures and book sales. Add in that he came from a family of old money and Jack could never even hope to compete with Hawthorn’s credit limit.
    â€œThank you, sir. It certainly was an . . . experience.”
    Hawthorn waved away Jack’s gratitude. “Don’t mention it, Jack.”
    Especially now that I already have.
Jack hid his grimace behind his coffee cup. It was their wedding all over again. He and Karen had planned a nice, intimate ceremony with close friends and family. Then Hawthorn had opened his chequebook. Jack wanted to tell his future father-in-law where he could shove his money, but he saw the longing in Karen’s eyes. She denied it, but Jack knew he could never give her the fairy-tale wedding she really wanted. So, with a flourish of a pen, Karen’s parents seized control of the wedding and two hundred additional guests, a horse-drawn carriage, a string quartet and an eleven-course dinner later Jack was indebted to his father-in-law. To be fair, Hawthorn rarely mentioned the cost. Just when there were people around to hear.
    The humidity had finally broken and after the stuffiness of the restaurant the warm night air was a relief. Everyone said their goodbyes — strained on Jack’s part, condescending on Hawthorn’s — and then Jack and Karen started the long walk to the car. She hugged his arm as he loosened his tie and popped the top button on his shirt.
Who in hell enjoys wearing a suit and tie to dinner?
    â€œThank you, Jack. I know these