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She clasped her hands on top of her desk and leveled at Knight the sternest look she could muster. “I’ve read your name on case files processed by my predecessor, Detective. While you may have worked directly with Anna, I have a different policy. All new cases go straight to Level-one Intake. There they’ll be read, ranked and assigned to available caseworkers on a needs basis set up by Director Piggot.”
Ethan, who’d gathered his reports from the floor during her terse little speech, slapped the stack in front of her on the desk. “Well, I’ve saved you the trouble of ranking Mike and Kimi Hammond, as well as Marcy White.”
Regan’s narrowed gaze went from the man’s thinned lips to the papers still fluttering on her blotter. She didn’t like Ethan Knight’s belligerent stare or his arrogant attitude. “Wh-what do you mean, saved me the trouble? Ranking cases based on service requirements is what we do at CHC. Reports come to us from several sources. Police intervention is one, but minor in the larger scheme, I assure you. Take these forms to Sandy Burke, three doors down. Oh—should you need to see me again, please leave your dog outside. I assume there’s a rule excluding animals other than seeing-eye dogs from government buildings. If not, there should be, and I’ll certainly make a request to have one implemented.”
“Really?” Ethan leaned forward, supporting both arms on the desk. His nose nearly touched Regan’s. “My dog has better manners than a lot of people you’ll meet, including some who work here. I don’t know where you got your training in social work, Ms. Grant, and I don’t give a damn. But in Desert City we take care of our needy or abused kids at the time they require help. We don’t send them up dead-end channels never to be heard from again.” Rising to his full six foot two, Ethan glared down into her pale features. “These kids have been processed. All my reports need is your look-see at the foster homes and your signature. It’s fine by me if you shred the vouchers. The kids got the medical care when they needed it. That’s what counts in my book.”
Regan picked up the top set of papers and scanned the page until anger blurred her vision. Her jaw sagged, but her head shot up and she impaled Ethan with a scowl. “I can’t believe you have the gall to step on our toes so blatantly and then come here and deliver me a lecture, as well. What credentials do you have? What gives you the right to decide who in this town is qualified to care for a troubled child?”
“Three children—this time,” Ethan said in a low, dangerously soft voice. “I suppose you could say my credentials come from working Desert City streets for fifteen years.”
Regan drummed her fingers on the paper she’d let fall. “No degree in psychology or sociology?”
“Criminal Justice,” Ethan snapped.
“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.
“Ms. Grant.” The interruption to Regan’s self-analysis followed a soft knock on her door. A cascade of long black hair appeared first in the narrow opening.
“What is it, Danielle?” Regan shook herself out of her stupor. She dropped her hands from the temples she’d been massaging and grabbed one of the files Detective Knight had tossed on her desk.
At her response, a young woman’s head and shoulders emerged. Bright eyes peered furtively around for a moment before her red lips formed a disappointed pout. Regan could think of no other way to describe the look.
“Nicole told me Ethan Knight was in your office. I’d hoped to catch him before he left. M-Ms. Grant, is everything all right? You don’t look well.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Regan didn’t realize she was crumpling Knight’s carefully typed report in one fist. When Danielle Hargreaves’s gaze drew Regan’s attention to the fact, she quickly dropped the paper and smoothed it out.
“I’m sorry if you had personal business with Officer Knight, Danielle. As you can see, he’s gone. And I really mustn’t take time to chat.”
“It’s Detective Knight, Ms. Grant. And my business with him isn’t personal. I need to give Ethan my sister-in-law’s name and address. She’s been approved to provide foster care for up to three kids. I’ll have my fiancé, Brian, pass the word to Ethan. They work out of the same police unit.” The dark head started to pull back and the door began to close.
“Danielle, wait!” Regan issued a rather sharp call to the newest caseworker in the department. She and Danielle had inadvertently gotten off to a bad start. Now it seemed the young woman blamed Regan because her predecessor had broken the hiring rules. The irregularity had come to light when Nathaniel collected all the employee records to discuss each one with Regan before she took over Anna Murphy’s old position. In actuality, Regan had begged Nathaniel to give her time to evaluate Danielle’s performance, rather than outright fire her. He’d refused.
Unfortunately there was no way to tell Dani that Regan planned to drag her heels about the firing until after Dani had completed her thesis. Regan could scarcely admit to a subordinate that she’d started her tenure by going head-to-head with their boss.
As the weeks went by and the rumors circulated about Regan’s hard-line approach, she’d tried to ignore the talk.
Dani stepped nervously back inside the office. “Yes, Ms. Grant?”
“Please, when we’re one on one, call me Regan.” She smiled, hoping to put the young caseworker at ease. Danielle’s work was exemplary from what Regan had been able to judge by follow-up visits to Dani’s clients. Regan was sure that once she clarified the rules regarding the chain of command in all foster placement cases, Danielle would understand.
Appearing extremely uncomfortable, Dani focused on her watch. “I have a client to visit at four, Ms. Grant. It’s three-forty-five now.”
“It’s Regan, remember? And this won’t take a minute.” She motioned to the chair recently vacated by Ethan Knight. When Danielle remained standing, Regan cleared her throat. “Apparently Detective Knight had some type of arrangement with Mrs. Murphy to circumvent normal placement procedures. As of today, children in need of foster care will go through accepted channels. It’s a universal method of placement used by Family Services in nearly every city in the U.S. Your sister-inlaw’s name will reach our intake office on a computer printout. She, in turn, receives a placement when her name rises to the top of the list.”
“But…but…” Dani’s brow furrowed.
Regan injected a little steel in her voice. “That allows our department to function as a well-organized team, Danielle. It gives the assigned caseworker time to examine a prospective home, as well as evaluate all children in need of placement. A good match ensures a positive experience for both foster child and foster family. Go on to your appointment,” Regan said more gently, making a shooing motion with her hands. “If your sister-in-law is desperate for the monthly stipend allotted to foster families, she shouldn’t have to wait long. Mr. Piggot sent me a memo yesterday indicating that demand for foster families outweighs applicants.”
“Maddy doesn’t care about the money!” Danielle blazed. “She signed up because she cares about kids—and…and as a favor to Ethan. Because he likes to know his abused kids will be going to loving homes. That’s Ethan’s whole intent, Miss Grant. He wants the kids to be more important than the dollars they generate for the foster families.”
Regan’s mouth fell agape. She quickly closed it, then again smoothed the pages of Ethan Knight’s report. Pages fast representing a thorn in Regan’s side. “Surely you understand that our department is a minor part of a massive state operation, which receives federal funding.” Turning, she pulled two fat books from the floor-to-ceiling bookcase behind her desk. “Each and every office is governed by the same rules. Rules established by supervisors who have served countless hours in the placement and entitlement of families in need. Nowhere within these guidelines is there any rule remotely pertaining to what Detective Knight does or does not want.”
Regan noticed that her voice had risen.
“Yes, ma’am. I understand what you’re saying. Um…I really have to go to my appointment, Ms. Gr—Regan. I’m meeting a client at her job. She only has a twenty-minute break and I don’t want her to lose her job on account of me.”
“No, of course not. I’m glad we had this opportunity to talk, Dani. If other caseworkers have sidestepped rules to accommodate Detective Knight, please set them straight. Or better yet, ask them to pay me a visit. As I said in our first group meeting, I have an open-door policy. One that allows us to iron out differences before they become insurmountable.”
Nodding, Dani backed out of the office, quietly closing the door behind her.
Regan stared at Dani’s petite shadow on the frosted glass until it disappeared. She shuffled the Knight reports to the bottom of her stack of current cases, all the while thinking Anna Murphy must have been ill for some time before anyone had ever realized. Otherwise her department wouldn’t have fallen into such disarray. Anna’s name had been practically a byword in the hierarchy of the state Family Services system for as long as Regan could remember. That was a big part of why she’d accepted this assignment. Not that she was having second thoughts now. And yet, Regan did wonder how much had slipped by Anna M.
She tapped the eraser end of a pencil on the pile in which she’d placed the Knight reports. In an earlier examination of the department’s active cases, Regan recalled seeing Ethan’s name on countless records. Maybe she ought to pull them all and have a second look. Regan sighed. What she supposed she should do was pay a visit to every foster home where Knight had placed a child.
“Oh, brother,” she muttered. But it was the only way she’d know for sure that the department was in good shape.
Picking up the phone, Regan called Records and asked to have all the currently active case reports transferred to diskettes. “I want to take them home to study on my laptop,” she informed the clerk.
She sighed again. There were many evenings of work ahead.
ETHAN DRAGGED into his office sometime after midnight. He’d been down at the jail for two hours trying to sort out the legitimate arrests he and Mitch had made from the innocent kids accidentally caught in their raid on the drug dealers’ house. The young kids who were buyers needed help. But no officer on the Desert City police force believed they’d get the right sort of help if they were tossed into juvie. Mitch’s specialty was getting these kids into programs where they’d learn productive ways of spending their free time. Mitch was a whiz at wangling slots in already overloaded boys’ and girls’ clubs and sports centers. That was why Ethan let Mitch go to visit the parents, while he stayed to word their reports in such as way as to put the scum responsible for selling drugs to thirteen-year-olds behind bars for the maximum sentence. Or so he hoped…
Sinking into his swivel chair, he booted up his computer and went into e-mail to retrieve his messages. Using his free hand, he filled Taz’s bowl with kibble. Ethan kept a sack in his desk drawer; it saved taking time to run by his house on days when one shift overran another.
Thirty-four messages. Ethan groaned.
“Damn, damn, dammit all,” he swore roundly. The first two messages informed him that two of the scuzz-balls whose paperwork he’d completed were already out on bail. The next thirty-two were from family and friends telling him Regan Grant had phoned making appointments to visit his network of foster homes.
“It shouldn’t worry me, Taz,” Ethan said, pausing to rub dog’s neck. “All those folks are doing an A-1 job. Everyone Grant’s called, the kids are settled in fine. Better than fine,” he said with satisfaction.
Before Ethan finished his sentence, a dark shadow fell across his computer. He glanced up, giving Taz one last pat. “Hiya, Fitzgerald. Chief demoted you to graveyard? What did you do to piss him off?”
“Manny Garza’s wife went into labor at noon today. His partner and I agreed to split Manny’s shift for the next few days.”