Shades of Truth. Sandra Orchard
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“He’s fifteen. A good kid, really. Comes from a stable family, but he had a hard time making friends at school.”
“Let me guess. He got sucked into a gang.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been urging him to get out.”
“The gang’s not going to let that happen.”
“It’s not their choice. It’s his. And he’s matured a lot in the months he’s been here, which is only one example of why it’s so important to do everything we can to make sure the government doesn’t shut us down.”
Ethan chose not to dispute the Pollyanna view. Her optimism was kind of refreshing. “Did Melvin have a parole hearing this morning?”
“No, a group conference between his family and the victim’s. This was a big step for him. He wanted the opportunity to apologize, ask for forgiveness and achieve some sort of reconciliation.”
“Wow, that takes guts.”
The rumble of the garage door rattled the windows. A police cruiser pulled inside. After the door closed behind the vehicle, the officer extracted a tall, lanky kid from the backseat, his hands and feet shackled.
Kim pushed to her feet, a proud smile curving her lips. “The kids call him Beanpole.”
“What’s he in for?”
She jabbed the button that opened the admission room door. “He got drunk, stole a car and smashed through a neighbor’s living-room window. Wounded their four-year-old daughter.”
Ethan swallowed the sour taste that rose to his throat as the kid shuffled across the cement, his head down. “Today’s meeting must’ve been tough for … everyone.”
“Yeah, but you know what they say. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
“Like the car that almost took you out this morning?”
She waved off the question and turned to the kid coming through the door.
Ethan kneaded the tension at the back of his neck. His protective instincts had kicked into high gear the moment he’d heard her scream, and they hadn’t let up in the hour since. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a more stubborn woman. Some guy had tried to run her off the road, and she acted as though it was no big deal.
The question was, why? Because Ethan’s gut told him she couldn’t be more wrong.
At the sight of her friend Ginny pulling up to the curb, Kim walked out the staff exit, hyperaware of Ethan’s nearness. He was being so sweet—offering to help with her petition, sympathizing with Dad’s condition, seeing her to the car—that she didn’t know how to act. Was he interested in her?
Or was he just a supernice guy?
At least she managed not to limp. She’d probably break out in a silly grin if he actually offered her an arm to lean on. And the curious glint in Ginny’s eye didn’t help.
With how kind Ethan had been, Kim felt guilty for not admitting that she knew who almost ran her down. But Blake had spent sixteen months at Hope Manor. If the police hauled him in for dangerous driving, not only would the news fuel the arguments for shutting down the manor, the arrest would set him back years. And after the protective way Ethan had pounded on the locker room door when Darryl was yelling at her, she was pretty sure that if she told him about Blake, he would send the police to the guy’s doorstep before his name left her mouth.
It was bad enough she’d let Darryl needle the admission out of her. At least he’d agreed not to involve the police. Of course, his insistence that she take the day off still irked. The swelling in her ankle had almost disappeared. But at least this way she’d have the chance to deal with Blake sooner rather than later. “Thanks so much for coming to get me, Ginny,” she said as they neared the car.
“No problem.” Ginny’s speculative gaze shifted to Ethan. “You must be the new guy who came to Kim’s rescue.”
“The name’s Ethan.” He extended his hand, and Ginny gave it a hearty workout.
Kim hid a smile. Her friend held to the theory that you could tell a lot about a person from their handshake. A limp one was a particularly bad sign, but from the approving grin Ginny shot her, Ethan must’ve passed muster.
“Have you been in town long, Ethan?” Ginny asked.
“Since last weekend. I moved down from Toronto.” Ethan opened the passenger door.
As Kim stepped past him, trying to ignore the rock-solid build that had vaulted a fifteen-foot fence to dash to her rescue, she felt that familiar rush of new-crush excitement.
“Did you work at a detention center in Toronto before this?” Ginny asked.
“Nope. I was a police officer.”
Kim’s heart hiccupped. “A police officer? And you quit? What happened?”
His shrug was nonchalant, but the flush inching up his neck suggested he felt anything but. “I was looking for a change. Tired of the big city.”
“Ignore her,” Ginny said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “She has this thing for guys in uniform.”
“Me? You’re the one who married a cop.”
Ethan flashed them an amused grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I think that’s my cue to get back to work. Now, make sure you stay off that foot,” he reminded before closing the car door. Despite the ninety-degree heat, he waited at the curb until they drove away.
“He seems nice,” Ginny said.
Kim smothered a bubbly squeal. “You should’ve seen the way he took charge when he found me in the ditch. He was so afraid I’d broken my neck that he wouldn’t let me move.”
“A man who can keep you down? Wow, that’s a first.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Kim propped her foot on the dash and examined her ankle.
Ginny glanced from the road to Kim. “You like him.”
Kim tried not to squirm. “Sure, he’s nice,” she said, and not wanting to admit to anything more, quickly added, “I wonder why he quit police work.”
“He told you.”
“Not really. He could’ve gotten a job on a small-town police force if he just wanted out of the big city. I think something bad must’ve happened to him.”
“Of course you do,” Ginny said in her indulgent, eye-roll voice.
“I’m serious. Maybe he got shot. Or maybe he shot someone and couldn’t cope with the emotional fallout.”
“Or …” Ginny said, stretching out the word for effect. “Maybe he wants a quieter life away from the big city and nosy females.”
Kim poked out her tongue. “Your marrying a cop has taken all the fun out of our guy talks. You do know that?”
“You’re interested in this guy?” Ginny’s gaze flicked from the road to Kim. “I thought you were dating Aaron. Which is a wonder in itself considering that since Nate, you haven’t dated anyone for longer than two weeks.”
Heat blazed through Kim’s chest and flamed into her face, the flare instant and embarrassing. She dropped her foot to the floor with a thunk, cranked up the air-conditioning. “Nate who? I never dated anyone named Nate. Oh …” She covered a mocking gasp. “You mean that guy who courted me for eight months and then married my college roommate?”
Ginny’s voice softened. “Kim, don’t. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Who’s pretending? I dated Zach for four weeks. That’s a lot longer than two. And Aaron is just a friend.”
His