To Love a Cop. Janice Johnson Kay
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Mom never speeded, but she had to be.
What if something really bad happened? It would be his fault. Because of what happened back then. Everything had been his fault: Marco and Dad, and Mom sad for so long.
And now things might get really bad again.
He could call Aunt Jennifer. She might chase after Mom and...he didn’t know. Stop her from talking to Uncle Tino?
But he’d heard the end of the phone call. Aunt Jennifer already knew what Mom was going to do. It didn’t even sound as if she’d tried to talk Mom out of going. Jake pictured her, smaller, skinnier than Mom, nice but...well, nice. Too nice to stop Mom.
What do I do?
He didn’t even know exactly where Uncle Tino lived. After finding out his cousins had started at his school, he’d looked in the phone book, but there was no Tino Vennetti there at all, not even at an old address.
As he ran back across the yard and into the house, his heart pounded so hard it felt as if it was going to burst like a water balloon when you dropped it.
And then his eyes widened. Detective Winter could stop her if he wanted. He’d make sure Uncle Tino didn’t hurt her.
And Jake had the card with his phone number hidden under the base of his desk lamp so Mom wouldn’t find it and take it.
He was in such a hurry to grab the card, the lamp fell over and the bulb shattered, but he didn’t care.
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING, ETHAN was back to canvas neighbors of the Finkels he hadn’t yet been able to talk to when his cell phone rang. He took it from his belt and felt a jolt when he saw who was calling. He’d looked up Laura and Jake Vennetti’s number last weekend and added it to his contacts list.
“Winter,” he said, stopping halfway up the walkway to a handsome Victorian across the street and two doors down from the Finkels, whose house still had a blackened corner.
“Detective?” It was the boy, and his voice was high and scared. “Mom found out something, and...and I’m scared of what she’s going to do.”
That didn’t sound good.
“What did she find out?” he asked, taking on the tone he used to soothe distraught witnesses.
“It’s... See, we moved, after—you know, Dad died.” His voice shook. “But a while back my uncle Tino moved near us, and his kids go to my school now. They’ve been, like, telling everyone about me.”
Oh, hell.
“Only I didn’t tell Mom, but my cousin Benji ratted to his mom, who told mine.”
He had to untangle that. “His mom is...your mother’s sister?”
“Yes!” This was a wail. “Mom is really mad. She just, like, roared out of here. She’s going to my uncle Tino’s, and...and I don’t know what’s going to happen!”
“Okay.” Ethan had already leaped into his SUV and was calling up an address for Tino Vennetti. “I don’t think anything that bad would happen. Your mom may yell, but it sounds like your uncle Tino deserves to be yelled at.”
“Yes, but—” The boy gulped. “He punched Dad once. Dad fell down, and he was bleeding and he had a couple of broken teeth and...”
“Fortunately, I’m not that far away. I might even beat your mom there, if she just left.”
“You’ll go over there?” Jake’s relief was vast and would have been heartwarming if Ethan hadn’t been pretty sure Laura wasn’t going to welcome his intervention.
“I’m on my way. Don’t worry.”
He pushed the speed limits a little, but hadn’t lied; the Finkels lived in the Woodlawn neighborhood, which bordered the funkier, slightly less expensive Concordia where, apparently, two sets of Vennettis now lived.
Laura had already jumped out of her car and reached the sidewalk when he rolled up right behind her in front of the house on Northeast 28th. Her head swung around and she stared at him in astonishment that transmuted into fury as he got out.
“What are you doing here?”
“Jake called me. He was worried.”
“Worried about what?” she snapped. “That I might hurt his uncle Tino’s feelings?”
“I think he’s more worried about you,” Ethan said gently. “He remembers Uncle Tino slugging his dad. He said there was a lot of blood.”
“Oh. Oh!” She pressed her fingers to her lips and then turned her back on him.
Ethan put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded. “I’m not here to stop you. I understand why you’re mad. He...told me enough.”
That lit a fuse. Laura wheeled around, forcing him to drop his hands from her. “Did he tell you his dear little cousin Gianna said her dad ordered them to make sure everyone knows what happened? To say that he’s dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed at school?”
“No.” His teeth clamped together. It took an effort to relax his jaw. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“What would you do if this was your son?”
“Probably the same thing you want to do,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “Do you have a son?”
“No. No kids. No wife.” Not anymore.
Her eyes shot sparks. “Then you don’t know.”
He glanced sidelong. Curtains had been twitching in the front window since he got there.
“What I do know,” he said quietly, “is that if you go in there screaming, all you’ll accomplish is to ramp up the hostilities. Your brother-in-law will feel justified in spreading the word that you and Jake both are unbalanced.”
If her glare had been a blowtorch, he’d be charbroiled by now.
“Then what am I supposed to do? Remind him timidly that Jake has feelings, too?”
His smile had her staring. “No.” He let the smile go. “I’d shame him.”
She didn’t so much as blink. He absolutely couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But then her fingers uncurled from fists and she gave a sharp nod.
“You’re right.” She turned and marched up the narrow concrete walkway.
Ethan was right behind her. He was damned if there’d be any bloodshed today.
Before they reached the porch steps, the front door of the nicely cared for house of 1930s or ’40s vintage opened and a man stepped out. He advanced to the front of the porch, giving him the high ground. A dark-haired woman hovered just inside the house. Ethan kept his attention on the man, who was unmistakably Matt Vennetti’s brother—and Jake Vennetti’s uncle.
After barely flicking a glance at Ethan, he stared insolently at Laura. “What do you want?”
“Hello, Tino,” she said with remarkable restraint. “Renata.”
The woman faded back.
“I’m here to ask you why you’re going out of your way to hurt a child. A child who is related to you.”
His lip curled. “He murdered Marco.”
Ethan laid a hand on her lower back. He felt the quivering tension in her muscles, but he also would have sworn she had leaned back into his hand, just a little.
“He was five years old, Tino.” She raised her brow and again looked past him, where his wife was an indistinct shadow in the foyer. “Last I knew, you were expecting. Did you have a girl or a boy?”
There was