Kitabı oku: «The Baby Cop», sayfa 4
“Five,” Odella breathed in awe, at the same time as Ethan exclaimed, “My house is big and I only have two bathrooms. You must have grown up in a damned hotel, Grant.”
Regan flushed. “I didn’t grow up there. Anyway, it isn’t a house that’s important, but the people living in it.” Nevertheless she made a mental note to phone Blair after work—just to see how she was getting along. Straightening, Regan swung her gaze from Ethan’s frankly curious look to Odella. “Inform Detective Knight of what you told me about Jeremy Smith’s mom.”
“It’s Ethan,” he reminded her. Then, turning to face Odella, he frowned. “Don’t tell me Shontelle’s back in town. Jeremy’s only started to relax in the last few months—since she quit showing up at his school, high, soused or hitting him up for money.”
Odella explained about the fax the department had received. She asked what Ethan thought their chances were of freeing Jeremy up for adoption in a plea bargain.
“The folks are still eager to adopt Jeremy. But you know my dad had a mild heart attack five or six months ago. He’s only just gone back to work full-time, so I’d hate to cause him stress if the adoption didn’t pan out—again”
“I’d heard,” Odella murmured sympathetically. “Roger and I were so surprised. We thought Joe was about as fit as any man we’ve met.”
Regan flipped open Jeremy’s file. “There’s no notation here about Jeremy’s foster dad suffering a heart ailment.”
“Is that something you usually log in a foster kid’s record?”
“Yes. Especially something that major. An effective caseworker is on top of any situation that may force a change in a client’s living conditions.”
“Change, how?” Ethan stretched out one leg and began to drum his fingers on his knee. “Even if, God forbid, my father had died, Jeremy would still have a roof over his head, food in his belly and a loving mother to listen to his woes.”
Regan reacted to the agitation she heard in his voice. “You can’t guarantee that. If your mother became suddenly widowed, or if your dad had a series of heart attacks leaving him in need of nursing care and unable to work, Elaine might not have time for Jeremy.”
“Bullshit.” Ethan scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned belligerently forward, bracing one hand on a tense thigh. “You have some funny ideas about a person’s commitment to family. If something had happened to either Mom or Dad while any of us nine kids still lived at home, do you think the surviving parent would have thrown us out?”
“That’s hardly the point. Jeremy isn’t of their blood.”
“Gosh, you’d better tell them that. I don’t think they’ve noticed. He’s been there five years, after all.”
“You may find this something to joke about, Detective. I don’t. Odella, please hold off talking to the attorneys about the possibility of Jeremy’s adoption until after I’ve had a chance to run this by Nathaniel. Serious illness of a foster parent throws a different slant on this case. I’ll ask you to keep news of the fax to yourself for the time being, Detective Knight. I’d hate to needlessly raise Jeremy’s hopes.”
“Ethan. Call me Ethan.” He uncurled his long frame from the chair. His badge caught a shaft of sunlight streaming in the window, causing Regan to wince. “I’d cringe too,” Ethan snapped, “at the prospect of sitting down across from Piggot while he rides the fence on an issue that means everything to a kid. You disappoint me, Regan. I’d pegged you for a woman like Anna. One with the confidence to make her own decisions and the guts to advocate for kids who have damned few champions.”
“With this position come certain difficult responsibilities,” Regan pointed out. “There are proper channels to navigate. Established rules to follow.”
Ethan sent her a pitying look from the door where he stood, tugging on the hat he’d removed on entering her office.
He looked imposing in his khaki uniform. Regan glanced away to avoid the censure she knew lurked in his expressive eyes. Why was she always trying to please men who didn’t think she quite measured up to their expectations? Among them, her father, Jack Diamond and now Ethan Knight. But that was silly! She barely knew Ethan Knight. What did it matter whether he approved of anything she chose to do?
Odella seemed torn between staying to talk further with Regan and walking out with Ethan. In the end she got to her feet and trailed after him. “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow, Regan,” she said. “Need I remind you that timing is critical here? If Shontelle’s attorney is going to offer a plea bargain in hopes of getting her sentence reduced, he’ll do it soon after the arraignment. That’s Monday, according to the fax.”
“Save your breath, Odella,” Ethan advised loudly enough for Regan to hear. “Crossing all the t’s and dotting every i takes time. If you miss the boat while Regan’s dithering, no one’ll fault you. I mean, you were just following the rules.” He shut the door with such force the glass panel shuddered.
So did Regan. Damn, but that man rubbed her wrong. He had some nerve implying that taking the proper steps meant Jeremy might lose out on his chance to be adopted by the Knights. Who would suffer the repercussions if she circumvented the red tape, only to have Joe Knight keel over from a bad heart? Ethan couldn’t guarantee that his mother wouldn’t see it as an opportunity to break free of domestic obligations. Think of the damage to Jeremy then. And it could happen. Ethan might believe that because Elaine was a devoted mother, that she would never put her freedom first. Regan knew better. Victoria, her own mother, had done exactly that.
Though more men than women opted out of parenting and simply walked away, Regan had handled caseloads that dealt with both. When it came to ensuring that kids didn’t get the raw end of the deal, no set of rules was too involved or too tedious, in her estimation. That cop could sneer all he liked; Regan had unwritten promises to uphold. Promises she’d made long ago on behalf of kids who had no other advocate.
ETHAN HAD BEEN so irritated with Regan Grant when he left her office, he’d completely forgotten the reason he’d dropped by in the first place. He didn’t recall until he’d put Taz in his patrol car and driven off. As he braked for the first stoplight, the crinkle of the recipe card in his pocket reminded him he hadn’t delivered it.
He’d parted from Odella in the hallway. He’d been so hot under the collar because of Regan that he’d flirted shamelessly with Nicole when he stopped to collect Taz at the reception desk. Though he found her immature, he’d actually let her wiggle out of him the date of the next Schutzhund competition. Ethan’s initial plan had been to invite Regan Grant to attend. Well, forget that!
It was beyond Ethan how a woman he barely knew could alternately stir his pulse and push so many of his buttons. Before they parted, Odella had casually mentioned that Regan jogged every morning at 6 a.m. She even dropped the name of the high school where Regan used the track. Perhaps he ought to try to connect with her on some level other than work. It was obvious they were miles apart on that.
Jogging was good.
Healthy. Fresh air worked up a sweat and an appetite—for a lot of things. Ethan abandoned himself to a vision of what it would be like to take the cool CHC supervisor back to his house after a sweaty run, where they’d add to the sheen of sweat by tumbling across the sheets. He practically drooled on the steering wheel picturing the steam they could create if the lady wrapped her long legs around his naked hips. He sizzled thinking about it.
Taz barked in his ear, and Ethan realized he’d been sitting at a light well after it had turned green. People around him, heeding his marked car, hesitated nervously, as if expecting some calamity to unfold in the vicinity. Gritting his teeth, he looked neither right nor left, gunned the engine and took off.
“Sheesh, Taz, I’m some kind of cop. Here I am daydreaming about Regan Grant like some high-schooler.” He had been so busy categorizing the lady’s attributes, he’d have missed a bank robbery if it’d been going down on that very corner.
The dog placed a paw on Ethan’s shoulder and licked his cheek. While Ethan dipped his head to the side and rubbed his chin across the soft fur, Taz uttered a throaty whine of sympathy.
“Yeah, pal, not only do I strike sparks off her, she’s not too crazy about you, either. I think it’s plain fright, even if she tries to gloss over it.”
Ethan pulled up behind the courthouse at a site where he’d arranged to meet Mitch. “Maybe I should give her up as a lost cause, Taz.” He and Taz came as a pair. “Yeah,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “It’s a case of love me, love my dog.”
Mitch opened the passenger door in time to hear the last of Ethan’s comment. “What, or maybe I should say who, has you talking to yourself, buddy?”
“Nobody.” Ethan fought a flush. “You know I always talk to Taz.”
“Right. Except this time you sounded like a lovesick moose. ‘Love me, love my dog,’” Mitch chirped in falsetto.
“Buckle up and shut up,” Ethan growled. “Since I know you won’t quit until you worm it out of me, I’m thinking about setting up an accidental meeting with Supervisor Grant tomorrow morning.” Ethan proceeded to tell his friend how, on a couple of occasions, Regan Grant had reacted oddly to Taz.
Mitch whistled. “If you want my advice—which you never take but which I’ll give you, anyway—write her off. She sounds phobic. You have about as much chance of a zebra losing its stripes as you do of unscrambling someone’s phobia.”
“You may be right,” Ethan mumbled. But he knew there was something about Regan that made him want to try.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN THE QUIET following Ethan’s departure, Regan sorted out the files of clients she planned to visit that afternoon. She couldn’t shake Jeremy’s case from her mind. Experience had taught her that no matter how inadequate—or destructive—a child’s biological parents, they often exerted enduring ties broke only by death. Sometimes not then. Frequently the guilt attached to hating what a parent was or did followed children into adulthood.
Deciding Odella’d had time to return to her office, Regan picked up the phone. “Odella, it’s Regan. After you left, I started to wonder who in the agency will inform Jeremy Smith of his mother’s arrest.” Regan listened to Odella explain that the boy’s regular counselor was on vacation. Since Jeremy had a good relationship with the Knights, she went on to say, perhaps the chore should fall to them.
“It’s our responsibility,” Regan argued. “He’s under our jurisdiction. How he accepts the news may have a bearing on whether we should proceed with adoption or name-change requests.”
“I doubt it,” Odella said. “If you’re concerned, I don’t mind asking Ethan to tell Jeremy about Shontelle. Ethan has a way with kids, and Jeremy idolizes him.”
Regan rubbed at a furrow that had apparently taken up permanent residence between her eyebrows since Ethan Knight had burst into her life. “I ought to run this by Nathaniel. If he’s in favor of contacting Shontelle’s attorney, I’ll visit Jeremy at school. We’ve met, and he’s aware that I planned to look into his petition for a name change. Adoption, though, is so final. He needs to know it’ll likely end any further association with his birth mother. I’ll call you. Do you have a cell phone?”
Jotting down the number, Regan signed off. She collected Jeremy’s file and walked slowly toward their director’s office, rehearsing what she’d say as she went.
Piggot was alone, just shrugging into his suit jacket. It was evident from the bulging briefcase and car keys lying on his desk that he was heading out.
“I only need a moment,” Regan said. “Something’s come up with one of our kids, and it needs immediate attention before we can progress.”
Piggot beckoned her past his administrative assistant’s empty desk. “I’m on my way to Phoenix to a state budget meeting. If your question involves money, the answer is no. I warned you about the staff here, did I not? With them, everything’s an emergency.”
Regan quickly explained what she’d learned from Odella about Jeremy Smith’s mother.
“Odella Price is always pushy.” Pacing the room, Nathaniel tugged at his lower lip. “However, pushy or not, she’s been instrumental in reducing our welfare rolls. The governor’s finance team likes to see dwindling numbers. So I’m glad the Smith woman, or whatever her name is now, has become Utah’s financial burden. If Odella can get the kid adopted so we can quit shelling out bucks to foster him, I say go for it.” Hefting his briefcase, the director herded Regan into his reception area. “Otherwise, how are you doing?” he asked as they proceeded down the hall together. “My assistant tells me you’re probing into Anna M.’s shortcuts. I’m pleased. My predecessor appointed Anna, you know. She was too well entrenched in the civil-service grade system to get rid of by the time I took over. Believe me, I wanted to fire her.”
Regan frowned. “Her methods may be questionable, but so far the foster homes she set up—the ones I’ve visited, anyway—are excellent. Far above average.”
“I don’t doubt it. Under Anna, our welfare rolls exploded. She and that damned cop, the one our esteemed commissioner calls the Baby Cop, set about placing every kid who showed even minor neglect into foster care. That overran our budget, and I don’t mind telling you my tenure’s under scrutiny because of it. I trust you’ll reverse the damage they’ve done.”
“I…I’ll do my best.” Regan paused a few steps from the staff lounge. She wasn’t prepared to have this conversation. Up to now, in the case histories she’d read and the homes she’d visited, there’d been no sign of any children being placed who weren’t clearly in need of help.
Nathaniel patted her shoulder with a fleshy hand. “I’m counting on you to whip this department into shape, Regan. I’m sorry to rush off. One day soon, after I get the budget done, we’ll have lunch, and I’ll lay out my cost-cutting ideas. By the way, have you fired Danielle Hargreaves? I’d like to be able to tell the boys in Phoenix that we’ve eliminated one salary.”
“I…um, no. Dani’s carrying a big caseload. All our caseworkers are over the limit already. She’s at the low end of the pay scale. We couldn’t replace her for less.”
“Don’t replace her. I’m trying to cut costs. Are you saying every caseworker we employ is working the maximum number of cases?”
“All of them are over the recommended limit.”
“Find out how many cases are legitimate and how many aren’t. By Monday’s meeting, Regan, I want a count of the number we serve who are in Desert City illegally. Our federal program director said it’s causing some state rolls to triple.”
“Can we even get a count? The illegal population in Phoenix had an underground system rivaling none. Hungry kids just showed up at homes that already had caseworkers assigned, and of course, we added them in.”
“Well, I won’t tolerate that in Desert City. We have the federal government’s backing. I will not increase our budget to feed nonresidents. Period!” Nathaniel was practically frothing at the mouth, the subject apparently made him so livid.
Regan found his stand unconscionable. “Are you saying we should let kids starve on our streets because an adult smuggled them across the border?”
“I’m saying we’re not responsible for feeding or clothing anyone who hasn’t come to Desert City through proper channels. I don’t condone breaking immigration rules any more than I approve the methods by which Anna and her pet cop foisted ragtag kids onto our system. I expect you to support me in this, Regan.”
“Aren’t you comparing apples and oranges? It’s one thing to disagree with placement methods. It’s another to refuse basic services to hungry destitute families.”
Piggot’s jowls shook in time with the pudgy finger he wagged in Regan’s face. “I didn’t bring you into the department to question my edicts. I moved your application ahead of others because I believed you had the balls for the job. If not, I can easily replace you. One way or another, this city’s welfare numbers will be reduced.”
He stomped off, leaving Regan staring after him in shock. By the time she managed to control her own burst of temper, she was surrounded by staff who’d been on break in the lounge and overheard her heated exchange with Nathaniel.
“Piggot’s a bastard!” Terry Mickelson exclaimed. “He’s blowing smoke. You’ve passed the probationary period. He can’t terminate you without cause. With your years in the system and your record, he’d have to document three or more offenses before he could remove you from the post. Even then, you’d have a right to a hearing.”
Dani Hargreaves stepped forward. “Nikki heard you stand up for me, Ms. Grant. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I thought you were the one trying to have me fired. I should’ve known it was Piggot. All he ever thinks about is dollars and cents. Never about staff workloads or client services.”
“Yeah,” said a soft-spoken male caseworker Regan had only seen at the monthly meetings. Jeff Perez, she thought his name was. “Piggot expects us to run the third-largest welfare department in the state on a shoestring. But if you examine the last four yearly budgets, you’ll see he wangled himself a substantial raise.”
Regan had hoped, with time and hard work, to gain the respect and trust of her co-workers. She felt uncomfortable doing it at the expense of the man who’d hired her. “Look, the conversation some of you overheard should have been conducted in private. I regret that it wasn’t. I think it’s obvious there are some things beyond our control. Our primary mission is to pull together for the good of the families we serve. Now if you’ll excuse me, please, I believe we all have work waiting.” Regan hurried off, feeling numerous pairs of eyes follow her until she entered her office and shut the door.
Nathaniel’s verbal attack had caught her off guard. She was more shaken than anyone back there realized. Regan knew it was due in part to old tapes playing in her head. Her mother, before she’d finally left Regan and her dad, had been extremely critical. So had Jack after she’d moved in with him. Darn, she thought she’d come out of all that unscathed.
She made her way to the washroom. Grasping the rim of the sink with both hands, Regan stared at herself in the mirror. Except for the faint white scars, she looked like any one of a million other thirty-one-year-old professional women. The scars were noticeable, but they were only skin deep. Only skin deep.
Leaving the room, Regan swiftly bundled up the files she needed. She turned off the overhead light, locked the door and exited the building. When she reached her five-year-old Honda Accord, she’d rid herself of the effect of Nathaniel’s threat. Still, after she slid into the driver’s seat, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. Just to subdue any lingering lapse of control. She’d worked too hard over the years to conquer her insecurities; she refused to fall into the trap again. It wasn’t only the years of therapy she’d undergone after the dog’s attack. She’d studied psychology to learn what really made people tick. Especially what made her tick.
She’d succeeded, too, until her poor judgment with regard to Jack Diamond. Their public fight, followed by an abrupt move and the added pressure of a new job, had probably sapped her reserves. To say nothing of the unexpected run-in with Ethan Knight and his scary dog. Today’s altercation with her boss was sort of a last straw.
But she’d survived last straws before, and Regan vowed to do it again. She was not the person she’d been twenty years ago, when a neighbor stood up in court and announced to a jury that Regan Grant was a weird kid with her light eyes. The man her family thought was a friend urged people to shun them. Which the whole town did.
Even her own mother had taken off.
Regan had begged her father not to sue the dog’s owner. Other kids had mercilessly teased the poodle. Not her, but others who walked the same route to school.
To her dad, how people viewed her didn’t matter. With him, it was about winning. The court ruled in her favor and had the dog destroyed. Neighbors were incensed. Ultimately her father had to use the settlement to send her out of state to boarding school or risk something worse than a dog attack. His business suffered, and he had to sell out. He said he didn’t blame her, but Regan was never fully certain.
Lifting her head, she gripped the wheel, sat back and turned the ignition key. That was all behind her. No one in Desert City, Arizona, knew that kid from Ohio. Mostly Regan managed to keep those old feelings buried deep.
Everything, including the incident with Piggot, was relegated to the back of her mind when Regan parked in the visitors’ lot at Roadrunner High School. Regan was the picture of professionalism when she presented her credentials to a secretary.
“I’ll have to check with the principal before I call Jeremy out of class. Is he in trouble?” the woman asked.
Regan smiled. “No. The agency has received some news that may affect his future. I’ll be happy to speak with the principal first.”
The principal, Carla Rodriguez, invited Regan into her office. “This is Jeremy’s first year with us,” she said. “And he’s already our star J.V. basketball forward. I hope your urgent business isn’t going to move him out of our school.”
“I shouldn’t think so. You do need to be aware of the situation, though. Sometimes matters of this nature cause youths to act out inappropriately.” Regan recapped the plight of Jeremy’s birth mother. She also mentioned the prospect of his being adopted by the Knights. “That isn’t a sure thing,” Regan added.
“It would be wonderful if Elaine and Joe did adopt him.” The principal smiled warmly. “I attended high school and college with Amy Knight. Her parents had a revolving door for troubled kids. They’ve worked miracles with quite a few boys and girls, Jeremy included.”
“Then you don’t see Joe Knight’s heart condition as a complication of concern to Jeremy’s future?”
“You mean if another heart attack should prove fatal?”
“Yes, although I hate to even suggest anything so terrible.”
The principal leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “Obviously you’re new to Desert City. The Knights are something of an institution when it comes to law enforcement and community good works. Their family is tight-knit. If anything did happen to Joe, he has three sons and five sons-in-law, any of whom would happily step in to serve as surrogate father to Jeremy.”
Regan glanced up from jotting notes in the boy’s file. “Well, then, I guess how we handle the next step is up to Jeremy.”
“Do you mind if I sit in on your visit with him?” the principal asked Regan.
“Not at all. In fact, I’d welcome your attendance,” Regan said after Carla dispatched an aide to locate Jeremy.
Some ten minutes later, he entered the principal’s office hesitantly. His large dark eyes rested warily on Regan a moment before flashing to Mrs. Rodriguez. “Is something wrong at ho…home?” His words jerked. “Da…Dad, it’s not his heart again, is it?”
“No,” Regan hastened to assure him. “Have a seat, please, Jeremy. I’m afraid this visit has to do with your birth mother. The agency received a fax—”
The boy exploded from his seat. “You ain’t gonna send me back to live with her? I won’t go! I don’t gotta, do I, Mrs. R.?”
“Let me finish, Jeremy.” Regan pushed him gently back into his chair. “Your mother is in a Utah jail.”
“I…but I don’t have enough money for bail. I only got what Ethan gave me yesterday to buy new running shoes.” The boy’s smooth brow pleated. “I guess Ethan or Dad will know how to contact the people holding her in Utah.”
“This isn’t about bail, Jeremy. Your mom’s accused of fatally stabbing the man she’d been living with. The evidence against her is strong. I’m here because Odella Price, one of our caseworkers, thinks Shontelle’s lawyer might be able to work a deal with her to release you for adoption if you’re still interested. Although time is short, you don’t have to answer right this minute. I’d like you to discuss it thoroughly with your foster parents. I have several calls to make this afternoon, and I’ll drop by your house when I’m through, around five o’clock. I’ll need your decision by then, Jeremy. Do you have any questions I might answer?”
Eyes that had been dull sparkled suddenly with tears and a darker emotion. “I tried to help my mom, and I couldn’t.” He blinked rapidly. “Can I call my dad or Ethan to come and get me? They’ll know what to do. Just ’cause I don’t want to live with Mama don’t mean I don’t feel nothin’ for her.”
“I know, Jeremy.” Regan curved a hand over his bowed shoulders. She cast a worried look at Carla Rodriguez. The decision to release Jeremy from school early was hers to make.
The principal, having pulled Jeremy’s student record card, reached for the phone. She punched in a series of numbers and after a brief conversation, hung up again.
“Central dispatching said Joe Knight is out on a call. Ethan’s at his desk. I asked them to send him. He shouldn’t be long.”
Jeremy nodded. He slumped lower in his seat and blotted wet eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Man, if she’s charged with murder, she could get life or…Does Utah have the death penalty?”
Regan felt her stomach go into a spin. “I don’t know, Jeremy. She’s only just started the process, I think. Here, take this packet of tissues.” Duty decreed she stay with the distraught boy until someone close to him arrived. And yet she knew that wherever Ethan went, his dog probably followed. Regan really, really wanted to make herself scarce.
Of course she was right about the dog tagging after him. Although this time, when Ethan burst through the door, he left his pet outside in the waiting area. Going down on one knee beside Jeremy, Ethan gripped the shaking shoulders. “Did you break something playing ball? Hey, kid, I know tryouts for varsity are next week, but Dad will talk to the coach, or I will. You’ve got a month before he’ll make a final roster. What’s important, is to get you to a doc.”
Rising, Ethan seemed to notice Regan for the first time. He pulled up short. “What the hell are you doing here? Or is that one of the new rules? You have to sign off on whether or not a foster kid can go in for X rays?”
“Stop it, Detective. Jeremy’s not injured. I came to deliver the news about his mother. Jeremy needs to go home where he’ll have a chance to fully digest what I told him. As his foster father was unavailable to come for him, Jeremy requested you drive him home. If you’re otherwise committed, I’ll take him.”
Ethan took a closer look at Jeremy’s tear-streaked face. Then with one hand, he grasped Regan’s upper arm, lifting her bodily from her chair. Ignoring her squeaking protest, he propelled her out the door and around the corner, where he lowered his voice. “This is some damned insensitive way to notify a kid his mother’s up on a murder rap. But then so was calling me to his school through urgent dispatch. I thought he’d been hurt!”
“I’m sorry you were needlessly worried. That wasn’t my intent. It’s our job at Family Assistance to deliver any bad news. His caseworker’s on vacation, and it’s my duty to fill in for absent staff members.”
“Anna would have phoned my mom first. She is the kid’s acting guardian. He doesn’t know you from Adam.”
Regan couldn’t explain why that struck her as funny. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to say he doesn’t know me from Eve?” Her smile softened her stiff features.
“Touché.” Ethan sighed, unable to keep from running an admiring eye the length of her very feminine form. “So what did you hear from Shontelle’s lawyer? Will she go for adoption, or did she renege on even letting him take our name?”
Technically Regan didn’t owe Ethan any explanation. But because she knew Jeremy would relay everything, anyway, and in his emotional state might leave out something pertinent, she relented. “Our director favors the adoption. However, before we call the attorney, we need a signed authorization from your parents. And, of course, Jeremy has to want to go forward.”
Ethan whistled through his teeth. When he did, Taz cleared the counter that separated visitor seating from the staff work area. The secretaries thought Taz’s leap was hilarious, until Regan let out a bloodcurdling scream. She practically tore the door to Carla Rodriguez’s office from its hinges in an effort to escape the dog, who’d stopped dutifully at Ethan’s side.
Ethan scratched his head. Everyone here knew Taz was a pussycat and could vouch for that to Regan Grant. If she’d listen. For whatever reason, Taz terrified her. Ethan wondered again if Regan’s fear was confined to Alsatians or all dogs. He intended to find out. But not right now. Jeremy was his top priority. The boy had a lot hanging over his head, and Ethan’s first order of business was to look after his family.
Grabbing hold of Taz’s collar, Ethan cracked Carla’s door ajar. “Hey, Jeremy, buddy. Will you take Taz to my patrol car while I sign you out on the books? Is there anything you need to grab from your locker?”
“My math book. Taz can come, too. Can’t he, Mrs. R.?”
The principal, who continued to eye Regan with skepticism, nodded absently to the boy. “Ethan, go with them. The freshmen lockers are closer to where you’re parked. I’ll sign Jeremy out.”
“Thanks, Carla. So long, Supervisor.” Ethan’s eyes sought Regan’s. She’d retreated to the side of the room farthest from the door, her back against the wall.
Ücretsiz ön izlemeyi tamamladınız.
