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.
* * *
EVEN 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 hunt.”
Ethan decided he could wait to talk to Laura, and got out to start door-belling.
Nobody had seen a damn thing. Or they weren’t home today, just like they hadn’t been home the past three times he rang their doorbell.
Not until he took a break for lunch did he call her.
She was breathing hard when she answered.
“Did I catch you on the run?” he asked.
“No, I’m scraping paint from my back deck. It’s an awful job. I was going to just paint it, but it was lumpy with a bunch of previous coats, so... One of the joys of home ownership.”
“I live in an apartment.” He didn’t even know why he said that. He and Erin had bought a house but split up barely a year later and sold the place.
Laura huffed. “Right this minute, that’s sounding good.”
She made him smile more than he could remember in a while, a surprise considering how mad and/or upset she’d been during most of their interactions.
“The next youth hunter safety class with any openings starts Tuesday night. Two hours a session, four consecutive Tuesdays. I hope Jake doesn’t have a conflict.”
“No, but...hunter?”
“That’s what’s taught to kids his age. We get all the basics in.” He hesitated. “With your permission, I thought I’d spend a little time at the range with him myself, working with handguns.”
“You’re not teaching the class?” She sounded worried.
“I am.” No way he was admitting he’d set the whole thing up for Jake’s sake.
She expelled an “Oh!” that sounded relieved. “What time on Tuesday and where?”
He told her, and she promised to call to officially sign Jake up and pay the minimal fee.
“Can I offer you dinner Tuesday before the class?”
He wasn’t fooled by how elaborately casual she sounded. Some anxiety vibrated in her voice. He couldn’t help wondering. Did she want reassurance about Jake, about letting him handle guns? Or...was she asking because she wanted to see him, and feared it had never crossed his mind to make their relationship personal?
Man, he hoped the answer was number two.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said. “That way Jake can go with me, unless you want to come along and watch.”
The tiny pool of silence didn’t surprise him.
“He’d probably rather I didn’t come.”
“He’s
