class. Can you suggest someplace I can sign him up?”
She felt his subtle relaxation. “Yeah. In fact, I sometimes teach a session. Let me see what’s coming up and call you, all right?”
Laura nodded. “And...thank you. For everything you said in there.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
His smiles made her feel and think things that weren’t realistic. She looked away. “What can you do about the vandals? It is scary. I work for Lehman Fine Furnishings. The family that owns it is Jewish.”
“What do you do there?” he asked.
“I manage the store. Uri Lehman started the store and hired me. He had a stroke two years ago. Neither of his kids was interested enough in the business to want to run it. So I got promoted.”
“My ex-wife dragged me in there one time. Steep prices.”
“Top quality,” Laura countered.
His grin was devastating, his eyes warm. “I’ll take your word for it. A cop’s salary does not run to an eight-thousand-dollar sofa.”
She laughed. “You didn’t see any eight-thousand-dollar sofas in my house, either. Even with an employee discount, it’s not happening.”
They smiled at each other for a moment that stretched, before he sobered.
“I’m heading out to keep canvasing neighbors. I might catch people home we haven’t been able to talk to yet.”
“Wouldn’t they have come forward if they saw anything?”
“People don’t always. Maybe they think what they saw wasn’t significant. Or they don’t read the newspaper or watch the local news and aren’t aware the vandalism at the Finkels’ wasn’t an isolated incident. So we keep trying.” His lips twisted. “Alternative is to wait until these punks strike again. The mayor doesn’t like the idea of telling callers that the police don’t have any leads to pursue and are having to wait until another attack occurs.”
“Which is really what you’re doing.”
“Afraid so.” His grunt might have been intended to be a laugh. “On that note...”
“Yes.” She stepped back, unsure how she’d come to be standing so close to him. “Good luck.”
Something moved in his eyes, but then he said only, “I’ll call,” and went around to get in behind the wheel.
Laura stood where she was and watched him drive away.
* * *
E VEN THOUGH HE had things he ought to be doing instead, once Ethan was parked in front of the Finkels’ house again, he made a call to a gun range that offered youth hunter safety classes.
He waited on hold for barely a minute for Ken Rice, the owner. When Ethan explained, Ken said, “We have one scheduled for Saturday, but it’s booked. So are the next three. We have a waiting list, Ethan.”
“If you have range time for an add-on class but no instructor, I’ll volunteer as long as I can get this kid in.”
There was a moment of silence. “And here I saw you at the press conference. You’re not tied up?”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m always tied up. But this kid...” He hesitated, but he trusted Ken. “His dad left a gun out and he shot and killed another kid when he was only five years old. He’s eleven now, and getting too interested in guns.”
“A lit fuse.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”
He did, half an hour later. The classes at this range were usually eight hours and scheduled to take place in two sessions, but the only way he could see to get it in was to break it up into four parts. “We can do four consecutive Tuesday evenings, or maybe Sunday afternoons.”
“Let’s go for the evenings, if you think you’ll get enough sign-ups.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt of that,” Ken said drily.
“Okay.” He hesitated. “First on the list is Jake Vennetti.”
“The cop’s son.”
“Yeah. You remember?”
“Hard to forget.”
“Thanks, Ken. I appreciate this.”
“I appreciate you volunteering. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have teaching here.” He chuckled. “Even if you don’t
She felt his subtle relaxation. “Yeah. In fact, I sometimes teach a session. Let me see what’s coming up and call you, all right?”
Laura nodded. “And...thank you. For everything you said in there.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
His smiles made her feel and think things that weren’t realistic. She looked away. “What can you do about the vandals? It is scary. I work for Lehman Fine Furnishings. The family that owns it is Jewish.”
“What do you do there?” he asked.
“I manage the store. Uri Lehman started the store and hired me. He had a stroke two years ago. Neither of his kids was interested enough in the business to want to run it. So I got promoted.”
“My ex-wife dragged me in there one time. Steep prices.”
“Top quality,” Laura countered.
His grin was devastating, his eyes warm. “I’ll take your word for it. A cop’s salary does not run to an eight-thousand-dollar sofa.”
She laughed. “You didn’t see any eight-thousand-dollar sofas in my house, either. Even with an employee discount, it’s not happening.”
They smiled at each other for a moment that stretched, before he sobered.
“I’m heading out to keep canvasing neighbors. I might catch people home we haven’t been able to talk to yet.”
“Wouldn’t they have come forward if they saw anything?”
“People don’t always. Maybe they think what they saw wasn’t significant. Or they don’t read the newspaper or watch the local news and aren’t aware the vandalism at the Finkels’ wasn’t an isolated incident. So we keep trying.” His lips twisted. “Alternative is to wait until these punks strike again. The mayor doesn’t like the idea of telling callers that the police don’t have any leads to pursue and are having to wait until another attack occurs.”
“Which is really what you’re doing.”
“Afraid so.” His grunt might have been intended to be a laugh. “On that note...”
“Yes.” She stepped back, unsure how she’d come to be standing so close to him. “Good luck.”
Something moved in his eyes, but then he said only, “I’ll call,” and went around to get in behind the wheel.
Laura stood where she was and watched him drive away.
* * *
E VEN THOUGH HE had things he ought to be doing instead, once Ethan was parked in front of the Finkels’ house again, he made a call to a gun range that offered youth hunter safety classes.
He waited on hold for barely a minute for Ken Rice, the owner. When Ethan explained, Ken said, “We have one scheduled for Saturday, but it’s booked. So are the next three. We have a waiting list, Ethan.”
“If you have range time for an add-on class but no instructor, I’ll volunteer as long as I can get this kid in.”
There was a moment of silence. “And here I saw you at the press conference. You’re not tied up?”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m always tied up. But this kid...” He hesitated, but he trusted Ken. “His dad left a gun out and he shot and killed another kid when he was only five years old. He’s eleven now, and getting too interested in guns.”
“A lit fuse.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”
He did, half an hour later. The classes at this range were usually eight hours and scheduled to take place in two sessions, but the only way he could see to get it in was to break it up into four parts. “We can do four consecutive Tuesday evenings, or maybe Sunday afternoons.”
“Let’s go for the evenings, if you think you’ll get enough sign-ups.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt of that,” Ken said drily.
“Okay.” He hesitated. “First on the list is Jake Vennetti.”
“The cop’s son.”
“Yeah. You remember?”
“Hard to forget.”
“Thanks, Ken. I appreciate this.”
“I appreciate you volunteering. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have teaching here.” He chuckled. “Even if you don’t
Similar Books
