The Baby Cop

“I see.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the back wall. “I have a master’s in child psychology and one in social work, Mr. Knight.”

“Detective,” he said curtly. “A rank I earned working with the scum of society while you sat in civilized classrooms and studied in quiet libraries.” Damn, but something about the snooty tilt to this woman’s chin irked him.

Regan pursed her lips. “I don’t have to defend myself to you. I think you’re well aware that you’ve exceeded your authority, and to what extent. I want it stopped here and now.” She stabbed a finger at Ethan’s painstakingly typed reports. “Otherwise, Detective, I’ll initiate a formal reprimand and personally place my complaint in the hands of your commander.”

Ethan felt heat claw its way into his throat. Suddenly the term battle-ax didn’t seem so far out of line. Rising stiffly, he inclined his head in a curt movement, his back teeth clamped too tightly to manage any sort of formal leave-taking. For a moment he was tempted to whistle Taz back into the room to give the psychology expert another taste of the type of fear kids experienced when their worlds were turned upside down. But he was more humane than that.

Yet it went against Ethan’s grain to leave, allowing the supervisor to think he’d heeded her threat. Other social service agencies in town lauded the system he and Anna Murphy had built. If Ms. Power Suit Grant assumed he’d turn away from a suffering child rather than risk a reprimand from the chief, her degree in psychology wasn’t worth crap.

Bringing Taz to heel with a flick of his finger, Ethan strode from Regan’s office. Still fuming, he collected his vehicle from the station, then drove to meet Mitch.

“Wow,” Mitch said a few minutes after Ethan and Taz joined him in the unmarked car they’d been assigned. “Who climbed your butt?”

Ethan, who’d thrown himself into the passenger seat, aimed a glower at his closest friend. “What makes you think anybody did, cowboy?” Mitch was known as the Italian Cowboy around the department for two reasons—he was of Italian extraction and he owned a small horse ranch.

“I wonder.” Valetti laughed. Brown eyes sparkled with humor. “I’ve got it.” He snapped his fingers. “You got taken down a peg or two by the heir to Anna’s throne. Your message on my voice mail said you were going to drop some reports off to her. So—” Mitch waggled his dark eyebrows “—rumors must be true. Grant is a certifiable bitch.”

Ethan winced. “Where do rumors like that start? If you’ve never met her, Mitch, why would you pass on such garbage?”

“Ah. So she’s a fox?”

“Screw you, Cowboy. Quit trying to put words in my mouth.”

“Ouch.” Mitch’s grin spread from ear to ear. “The lady really messed with your head, didn’t she, my friend.”

Ethan mind flashed back to the pale delicate face made stark by terror. His fault for surprising the lady with Taz. Her terror had been real. So Regan Grant had a vulnerable side. A weakness he could exploit if he cared to blow the incident out of proportion and let Mitch add to the rumors. Or he could keep it to himself and try to create a working relationship with her.

Using the time it took to pour coffee from a thermos, Ethan dragged his mind back to Mitch’s remarks about Anna’s replacement. “Ms. Grant’s going to be a stickler for following rules Anna bent a little.”

“From what I hear, that’s putting it mildly. Did you set this new supervisor straight?”

A smile tugged at one corner of Ethan’s mouth. “Not exactly. I didn’t overwhelm her with my charm and personality. In fact, she said if I don’t go by the book when it comes to placing needy kids, she’ll institute a formal reprimand against me and hand-deliver it to the chief.”

Mitch’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding! No, you aren’t,” he muttered. “That goes with what Brian Fitzgerald said about Grant. Fitzgerald’s fiancée, Danielle Hargreaves, is the last caseworker Anna hired. She’s working on her master’s. Has to finish her thesis and do her orals. According to Brian, Grant had a hissy fit because Piggot told her all caseworkers were either MS’s or PhDs.”

“Did she fire Dani?”

“Still deciding, I guess.”

“It’ll be a loss to the department if they let Dani go. She’s got a great rapport with rape victims.” Ethan sipped from his cup.

“Yeah. And she needs the job to pay off six years of college loans. Brian said they’ll have to postpone their wedding if Dani loses her income. Some of the guys were thinking you might put in a good word for Dani with the Grant dame. Guess not, huh? Doesn’t sound as if you two hit it off.”

Ethan shook his head. “The way it stands, my speaking up might jeopardize Dani’s position even more. Is her potential job loss why all the guys at the station are grousing? I mean, is that what started the rumors about Grant?”

“There’s more. Grant instituted a dress code for caseworkers. Slacks and ties for the men, dresses or suits for the women. Like people who need the services of a caseworker cares how they’re dressed!”

“Dress codes are a nuisance, but most areas have them. You know how the chief is about white shirts and no loose ties unless we’re undercover.”

“Yeah. Well, that’s not all. Anna didn’t pay attention to quotas. She apportioned cases out based on criteria other than straight numbers. Your Ms. Grant has decided everyone ought to have a equal number of cases, and it doesn’t matter if some involve a family of ten and others a single mom with one kid.”

“She’s hardly my anything, Mitch. Maybe if she makes enough waves and ticks off enough people, Piggot will get rid of her.”

Mitch shook his shaggy head. “Don’t think so, Ethan. Rumors also say Nathaniel brought her in from out of town, selecting her over qualified in-house candidates.”

“I don’t know if I’d repeat that rumor, Mitch. Regan Grant has impressive credentials. From a strictly technical point of view, I can’t think of anyone in-house who’s as qualified to replace Anna.” He shook his head. “Let’s face it. No one can replace Anna. She poured her heart and soul into the job.”

“Anna was a gem.” Mitch poked Ethan in the ribs before settling back to watch the house they were staking out. “The guys at the station used to say it was too bad Anna M. was old enough to be your mom. Otherwise you’d have made the perfect couple.”

Ethan’s ears burned. He’d been teased a lot about his open admiration for Anna Murphy. “Tell you what, Valetti. If I ever find a woman my age who has half of Anna’s intelligence and compassion, I’ll snap her up in a flash.”

“I’d give a lot to see that, my man. In the almost seven years we’ve been partners, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with the same woman twice. At least not at any official functions.”

“If I did that,” Ethan said dryly, “my family would book the church and start planning wedding showers. Being a middle child, I saw how the Knight railroad worked. Anybody dated someone twice, and first thing you knew, Mom invited them to dinner. Or Grandpa took them to the club for a friendly round of golf. Or Dad just happened to run into them on the day of a family barbecue. A guy or gal doesn’t marry one Knight, they marry a family. I plan to be damn sure I’m dating Ms. Right before I let the clan get their hooks in.”

“Too bad you’re not getting any younger, big E. By the time you locate Ms. Right, you’ll be bald, fifty, and flabby.”

Ethan sputtered that no man in his family went bald and he was far from flabby.

Mitch, who seemed to enjoy the heck out of needling his friend, sobered soon enough. “Frankly I hoped Anna’s replacement might be the woman for you. Too bad she turned out to be a butt-faced ogre.”

Ethan lifted a brow. “Anybody who tagged Regan Grant with that description hasn’t seen her.”

“Really? Then she’s a looker?”

Ethan recapped Ms. Grant’s attributes to himself. Damn, he’d never hear the end of it if he let on to Mitch that he found Regan Grant attractive. He also had to admit she had the proper credentials. One degree more than Anna had, to be exact. Lifting a shoulder, Ethan casually let it drop. “She’s okay,” he said without inflection. “Isn’t it time we gave this topic a break and worried about who’s in the car that’s pulling into our suspect’s driveway?”

CHAPTER TWO

REGAN SAT IDLE at her desk for long minutes after the detective stormed out. She was shaken by the encounter with his dog and also by the harsh words she’d exchanged with the man. It wasn’t like her to raise her voice to someone she’d just met. Especially someone she might have to work with again.

Her reaction was obviously related to the last ugly scene she’d had with her fiancé. She had taken a friend to help move her furniture and personal belongings from the apartment. They’d arrived midmorning on a weekday and discovered that he’d had the locks changed. When Regan phoned asking him to come let her in, Jack’s language had become abusive. As well as calling her names, he’d said she could forget about taking even one thing from the place.

Regan regularly counseled women about their rights in just such instances. Yet she’d been unprepared for the way Jack’s treatment had made her feel. He’d caused her knees to shake. Put her stomach in turmoil. And those physical feelings were secondary to her sense of being used. Until she realized she wasn’t totally defenseless. She’d lived in the building for five years before Jack moved in, claiming he loved her. The hard reality had suddenly smacked her in the head. Jack had never loved her.

Once she’d accepted that, Regan hadn’t argued. Instead, she’d hung up on Jack and gone straight to the building superintendent. Mr. Thornton said he’d always hoped she’d come to her senses and dump Jack. The old man hadn’t thought twice about letting her into the apartment.

Although she’d been careful to take only what belonged to her, Jack had had her arrested at work for breaking and entering. It was a nasty scene. As a cop, he’d had the muscle, literally and figuratively. He didn’t want an amicable settlement. He wanted to humiliate Regan for daring to cross him. Thanks to the pull he had in the courts, she’d lost everything except her jewelry and clothing.

The experience had left her bitter. For weeks she’d doubted her ability to help other women faced with similar situations. In the midst of her confusion, Nathaniel Piggot had phoned and offered her the supervisor’s job in Desert City. A couple of years back they’d successfully collaborated on a state grant project. The faith he expressed in her was exactly the encouragement she’d needed. Piggot’s career offer gave her a valid reason for leaving Phoenix and a job where she’d constantly be running into Jack and his buddies. In time she hoped to put the episode with Jack completely behind her. Except that she was afraid she’d let her anger at Jack spill over into her dealings with Detective Knight.

But perhaps her reaction was justified. While it was true that Ethan Knight looked nothing like Jack Diamond, except in the swagger shared by all police officers, he exhibited the same annoying “my way or the highway” attitude.

Grimacing, Regan admitted to having gone ballistic over the dog. She regretted that—although maybe she shouldn’t. Knight had broken the rules. A lot of rules. And from the sound of it, he had no remorse.

Regan didn’t for one minute believe he’d gone to all that trouble for those kids out of the goodness of his heart. It’d be news to her if policemen had hearts. Jack had stolen her furniture simply because he could. Because Regan couldn’t produce proof that she’d bought the living-room and bedroom sets, or the various kitchen appliances she’d acquired over ten years. Who kept receipts for that long? But that was beside the point, she reminded herself firmly. Her fight with Jack shouldn’t reflect on new relationships with police officers in an entirely different city.

All policemen weren’t necessarily jerks just because Jack Diamond and his pals on the force came from one insufferably arrogant mold.