Recalling how harried Gen had looked when she’d left the café, he said, “Was everything okay after your call? You left in a hurry.”
“More or less. A semi had collided with a car on I-275 and the department needed some support.” Eyes clouding, Gen shook her head. “It was touch and go for a while, but everyone involved ended up okay.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Gen gestured to Sam. “I heard you and Sam know each other.”
“We do.” Cary laughed. “I think everyone here pretty much knows each other. And their mothers, fathers and grade-school teachers.”
“He said your father was with the church.”
“Yeah. A minister.” Interested in finding out why she was asking, he said, “Are you looking for a church or something?”
“Oh my gosh, no.”
Her tone took him off guard. “Okay,” he answered, drawing out the word.
“Sorry, I guess that came out wrong. I meant to say I’ve never had time for that kind of stuff.”
Though her tone was light, Cary caught the edge of steel in it. “I see.”
She glanced his way again, all big blue eyes and wariness. “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all.” He wasn’t offended…just disappointed. Gen Slate seemed covered in a hard shell, giving him little idea about what she was really like.
Did he really want to become involved with another woman who wasn’t honest about her feelings?
As he spied Dave and saw that his brother was now sitting with him, Cary stood. “Well, it was good to see you. I’m going to head on back and let Sam reclaim his seat.”
“Oh. All right.”
Cary’s heart softened as he noticed that same touch of confusion in her eyes he’d spied at the pet store. “Hey, be careful on patrol, Gen.”
A flash of humor—and vulnerability?—crossed her face before she tamped it down. “Don’t worry, Cary. I never let work stress me out.”
He was about to ask if she ever took time off when the crowd around them grumbled again.
“Mr. Hudson! You’re six feet two. Go play or move!” Kyle West called out from three rows up.
“Wish you cared as much about independent variables as this game, Kyle,” Cary retorted. “You blew yesterday’s quiz.”
Kyle paled. “Don’t tell my mom.”
As the crowd around them laughed and a wad of paper flew toward the freckle-faced junior, Cary made his way down the stands. Catching Mrs. West’s eye, he couldn’t resist winking at her. “I’m guessing she already knows,” he murmured, just as the referee called another time-out.
A WEEK LATER, Melissa rapped two times on his door before barging in. “Uncle Cary? You home?”
Cary glanced at his watch. It was seven o’clock. Usually Melissa was either doing homework or talking on the phone at this time of night. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m so glad you’re home. Dad’s working late and Brian’s still at practice.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly concerned. Melissa looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Come see my car,” she said, her lip trembling. “Someone ruined all my tires! I don’t know how it could have happened.”
“Let’s go see.”
“It’s bad,” she said. “I don’t know how it could have happened.”
Grabbing a jacket and a cell phone, Cary followed her down his walkway and out to her trusty blue Civic, practically lying on the curb in front of her house, its tires completely flat. “Those tires are ruined all right.”
As if relieved that he finally believed her, her light-blue eyes filled with tears. “I was about to go out when I found it like this!”
Though his knee-jerk reaction was to ask where she’d been headed, he focused on the car. “Did you drive through a new neighborhood or something?” he asked, even though he knew a few stray nails wouldn’t cause this much damage.
“No, I drove straight home from school.”
After checking the tires for nails or other debris, he finally saw a jagged cut near the rim of one. “These have been slashed.”
“Dad’s going to be so mad.”
With his thumb, Cary wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “No, he won’t.”
She hiccuped. “You think?”
“I know. He’s my brother, remember? Have you called him yet?”
“Not yet.”
Pointing to the cement curb bordering her lawn, he said, “Let’s have a seat. Missy, I think we ought to call the police. Slashing tires is serious stuff, so we should report this. It could just be someone’s idea of a prank, but we should be careful in any case.”
Because she still looked worried she’d get in trouble, he added, “Your dad’s going to want to contact the insurance agency, and they’ll likely want the police to look at the damage, anyway.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay. Your dad will know this wasn’t your fault.”
Her cell phone rang. “Brian! Oh my gosh!” she said as soon as she clicked on in that dramatic way of hers that Cary knew so well. Cary stretched his legs as Melissa quickly summarized to her boyfriend what was happening.
A much calmer Melissa turned to him after she clicked off. “Brian said you should call the police.”
“I guess we’d better then,” he said, his sarcasm completely wasted on his niece. Funny how teenagers never changed. Cary vividly remembered always putting his friends’ advice in the forefront years ago, too.
After dialing Information, he called the police station. Recognizing the voice, he said, “Hey, Amanda, this is Cary Hudson. Any chance you could send Gary or Sam out this way? Melissa has a slight problem here.” After telling her about the tires, he turned to his niece. “Someone will be here shortly.”
Next he called his brother and filled him in. Luckily Dean was already on his way home.
Within minutes, a stream of cars approached.
Out of the first vehicle flew Brian, who rushed toward Melissa. Next came half the basketball team, three girls from Missy’s cheer squad and assorted other seniors who were looking for a party.
Cary waved hello to everyone but stayed seated. He’d known most of the kids for years and had taught nearly every one of them. They were good kids and were doing their
