When Love Matters Most

  She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. “That might be. But think back. Do you remember a time when Sophie, Daniel or I didn’t have to pry it out of you if you were seeing someone?”

  Was that true? If his mother said so, it must have been. “Huh” was all he said.

  “Well, then. Tell me about this woman before we’re interrupted.”

  “Too late for that,” his sister, Sophie, said, walking into the kitchen with baby Emma balanced on her hip. She leaned down to give Rick a kiss, and handed the baby to her mother with a hug and a kiss before sitting on the chair opposite Rick. She leaned her elbows on the table, rested her chin in her hands and fluttered her lashes. “So do tell, dear brother. Who is this woman, what makes her so special and when do we get to meet her?”

  Although Rick gave his mother a mock exasperated look, she was oblivious to it. She was preoccupied with bouncing his adorable blonde niece on her lap, while the little girl finished off a chocolate-chip cookie she’d snagged from a jar his mother kept on the table.

  Emma noticed him watching her, and stretched her pudgy arms out toward him. “Wick. Wick!” she called.

  He was a marshmallow when it came to Emma. There was no way he could resist her. He leaned forward to take her from his mother, despite the chocolate smudged on her fingers and face. “Rick,” he enunciated for her. “It’s Rrrick.”

  “Wick. Wwwick!” she exclaimed, and planted noisy kisses on his cheek. From the way his mother and sister smirked, he presumed he now had chocolate smeared all over his face.

  “Here, let me take her,” Sophie offered.

  “Not on your life.” Rick settled Emma more comfortably on his lap, handing her another cookie from the jar.

  Sophie shrugged. “Have it your way, but tell us about your new girlfriend.”

  “I think that’s where you walked in. I was just explaining to Mom that she’s not my girlfriend. I’ve only taken her out once.”

  “Hmm,” both women said in response.

  When he gave them another frustrated look, his mother rubbed his forearm. “And as I was pointing out, you started this conversation. You might as well finish it.”

  Rick took a deep breath and dived in. He told them about Madison and how they’d met. He felt pride in talking about her work and her accomplishments.

  “Educated, beautiful and no pushover. I don’t think you could respect someone—at least, not in the long run—who wasn’t capable of standing up to you,” his mother said.

  He chuckled. “Oh, there’s no risk of her not being able to stand up to me.”

  “So where did you take her on your first date?” Sophie asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she rose to get herself a cup of coffee.

  “To Logan’s for a barbecue.”

  The two women exchanged meaningful glances. “You took her to meet your boss?” Sophie asked. “On a first date?”

  “It wasn’t like that. Logan was having a barbecue for the unit and I asked her to come with me. Besides, she’s met most of the guys already through her work. She fit right in.”

  “So you took her to meet your boss and your coworkers?” his mother asked, before she and his sister traded looks again.

  “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve done that.”

  “But it’s the first time on a first date!”

  “Okay, that’s enough teasing for now, Sophie. Let him be,” his mother admonished, without heat in her voice. “When do we get to meet Madison?”

  Emma started to fuss, obviously frustrated by not having Rick’s undivided attention. He bounced her on his knee until she quieted again. “Well, it’s been too long since we’ve had a complete family get-together. Why don’t we plan something soon when you’re all available? Daniel, too,” he said. “I’ll bring Madison.”

  “How about that? We didn’t even have to prod,” Sophie noted.

  Hillary laid a hand on her arm. Rick could tell the difference between an encouraging touch, like the one his mother had given him a few minutes ago, and the restraining one she had on Sophie’s arm now. “That would be nice, dear. Why don’t you let us know what works for you?”

  “Let me have another date or two with her first. Make sure we’re compatible.”

  “You do that and give us a call when you’re ready.” Hillary smiled mischievously. “So let me sum this up. You’re telling us about a woman you met at a difficult time. A woman you irritated on your first meeting. But you managed to turn it around so she’d go on a date with you. You’re willing to introduce her to us, but you’re not certain yet if you’re compatible? Have I got that right?”

  He’d just taken a sip of his coffee, and nearly spit it back out with his laughter. “I never said I was the smartest of your kids,” he told her with a grin.

  She patted his hand. “It’s never been a competition. You’re all smart and, more important, good people. I hope—”

  Whatever she was going to say was forestalled when the outside door opened and Rick’s father, Harold, strode in. He was a tall, slim man, with light-colored hair starting to show some thinning at the crown, but he had the sharpest gray eyes Rick had ever seen. He had their little shih tzu at his heels.

  Seeing his son, Harold strode over. Rick was barely out of the chair when his father embraced him and Emma at the same time. “Good to see you, son. Real good.”

  He hugged his daughter next, then his eyes landed on his wife of forty-two years. Rick knew those gray eyes of his father’s never missed a thing—to Rick’s chagrin when he was a kid.

  “Hey, Toby,” Rick greeted his parents’ dog.

  Showing none of the distress she had earlier, Hillary beamed up at her husband. “Your son says he’s met a woman!”

  His father’s laugh was immediate. “When doesn’t he meet women?”

  Hillary poked her husband’s side. “I think this is different.” She looked to Rick for confirmation.

  “I don’t know yet. Let’s see where it goes,” he said noncommittally.

  * * *

  MADISON WAS OUT with Owen for his last walk of the day when her cell phone rang. With a sense of anticipation, she took it out of her pocket. She felt mildly disappointed realizing it wasn’t Rick, but consoled herself that it was the next best person—her father.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  “How are you, honey?”

  She let Owen off the leash in the deserted park, knowing he wouldn’t go far, and sat on a bench.

  “Good, thanks.”

  He asked about her research project and her work, and she gladly told him. He was such a huge supporter she doubted she would’ve been able to accomplish half of what she had without his encouragement and belief in her. “And what about you, Dad? How’s that case you mentioned when we last spoke?”

  She heard him sigh. “Jury trials can be the bane of my existence.”

  “It didn’t go the way you thought it should?”

  His laugh was without humor. “I just don’t understand jurors sometimes. The facts are irrefutable, and a group of intelligent people can’t come to the right and obvious conclusion.”

  Madison kept an eye on Owen while her father ran through the case and its outcome. When Owen returned, she held the phone to her ear with her shoulder and snapped on his leash for their walk home. She smiled at her father’s categorical statement about there being a “right” decision. To him, the law was everything. His work energized him, but she was well aware that this wasn’t the first time he’d been frustrated with the outcome of a jury’s deliberations.

  “Isn’t the jury’s role to make a decision beyond a reasonable doubt?”

  “Well, of course, and that’s my point. You’d think they could see the right and wrong of it, when it’s plain as day and directly in front of their faces!”

 
Madison chuckled. She respected her father greatly. He was the most principled, honest and ethical person she knew. But sometimes he could be a little unyielding. She’d learned that early in her life, even before he became a judge. With Patrick Long, there wasn’t a lot of gray. Not much stretching the line. That was probably what made him such a good judge—he didn’t let compassion outweigh the letter of the law; however, it caused him no end of frustration on the rare occasions a jury put feelings ahead of facts. From what she understood of this case, that was what could have happened. The evidence that the accused had murdered his own brother seemed unambiguous, but the jury must have factored in the hard upbringing he’d had and been lenient.

  “I know I can’t enter a judgment, notwithstanding the guilty verdict, since it’s a criminal case and the jury acquitted. Still, I’m seriously thinking about granting a motion to set aside the judgment on the basis that no reasonable jury could’ve reached the verdict they had if they’d correctly applied the law. I’ve never taken such a drastic step in my career, but in this case, there may be...well, let’s say extenuating circumstances for me to consider it.”

  That statement surprised Madison. She understood the law sufficiently to realize what a drastic step that would be. She wondered about the “extenuating circumstances” comment. Was it bribery or intimidation of a juror that had swayed the decision? She didn’t ask him about it. If he could’ve told her, he would have. He’d said the accused had an association with organized crime; she concluded that attempted intimidation of jurors was a distinct possibility. She hoped he wouldn’t be at risk if he did take the step he mentioned.

  They chatted about more mundane topics as Madison made her way home and said good-night as she let herself into her house.

  Standing in the hallway of her dark house, she tried to put concern for her father out of her mind. She trusted him to be careful.

  Instead, she turned her thoughts to Rick. She wondered why she hadn’t heard from him since their date. He must be busy, she rationalized. If he was, she didn’t want to bother him. She’d give it another day or two. If he didn’t call her, she’d take the initiative and call him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  RICK WOKE BEFORE his alarm went off, but he felt rested. Remarkable how invigorating it was to spend time with his family. Seeing his parents, like he had the evening before, always put him in a good mood, no matter what was weighing on his mind. Add to that, his sister, Sophie, had been there with his favorite girl, Emma, and spending time with his folks went a long way to dispelling the anger, guilt and just plain mad that had been plaguing him since Jeff’s shooting.

  As he went into the kitchen to fix breakfast, Sniff trailing behind him, he thought he understood what people meant about having a spring in their step.

  He still felt terrible about Jeff, but he took comfort in the fact that the SDPD had a plan to take down the cartel, and he’d be integral to its execution. They had the buy-in and cooperation of the other relevant authorities.

  Rick let Sniff out into the backyard, then pushed the button for his coffeemaker to start the brew cycle. He wasn’t particular about much, but he loved his coffee—especially that first cup in the morning—and he loved it strong. While waiting for the coffee to brew, he wandered around the kitchen and living room, picking up the odds and ends Sniff had “displaced” in his efforts to amuse himself while Rick had been out the evening before. It was just one of those behavioral idiosyncrasies some police dogs had. He’d become accustomed to it a long time ago, and considered himself fortunate that Sniff wasn’t a search and rescue dog. They could be brutal to a place if they caught a scent they wanted to follow.

  As he stood by the window, coffee mug in hand, watching Sniff, he thought of the other reason he was feeling pretty darn good this morning. Madison. It felt great to have met a woman who interested and intrigued him. He wanted to see her again.

  Sniff ambled to the door and pressed his nose against the glass, his breath fogging it. With a laugh, he let the dog back in and scooped kibble into his dish. While Rick quickly had a bowl of cereal and a large glass of orange juice, he watched Sniff transfer his weight from one hind leg to the other as he inhaled his own breakfast. Clearly, his cruciate ligaments were bothering him again this morning.

  Rick had the evening shift, but he was headed to the division anyway, for a workout. He’d have a word with Logan before he went to the gym. He wanted to begin the conversation about Sniff’s retirement. He knew there’d be the additional challenge of getting approval for the unbudgeted cost to acquire and train another dog in addition to Zeke’s replacement, but Logan cared about dogs, too, and Rick trusted he’d be receptive. None of them wanted to see a dog hurt on the job, and Sniff’s mobility impairment put him at risk.

  Finding the right dog to be Sniff’s replacement and training him would determine the timing, but his four-legged pal had earned an early retirement. Sniff would also have the benefit of companionship in his old age with Rick’s new canine partner around.

  He thought about Madison again while he drove to the division. He’d give her a call and arrange another date. Sophie had made a good point. Just the two of them this time. An opportunity to get to know her better...and be alone with her, without other cops hanging around and vying for her attention.

  He parked his vehicle in his designated spot, and brought Sniff into one of the holding pens adjacent to the training yard.

  Logan was in his office but clearly preoccupied with something, so Rick took only a few minutes of his time. Mentioning Sniff’s health challenges and the idea of retirement was enough to get the captain thinking. After leaving Logan’s office, he headed to the gym.

  “Hey, Brody. You’re looking a little rough this morning,” Rick commented, seeing the other cop enter the squad room as he was exiting. Rick squatted to give Brody’s dog, Nitro, some attention.

  “Leave him alone,” Tom Brody snapped.

  Rick kept his hand steady on the dog’s head. Because of that, he felt the dog’s immediate tensing at the harsh tone of his handler’s voice. He gave the dog a final, calming stroke before rising.

  Rick noted Brody’s disheveled appearance—the greasy hair, the shirt with one button undone, the scuffed and dusty shoes. “Do we have a problem, Brody?” Rick’s voice was unruffled on the surface, but anyone who knew him would have recognized the no-nonsense resolve beneath.

  “This damn dog.” Brody gave the leash a hard tug, despite the fact that the beautiful near-black Malinois–Dutch shepherd cross was sitting sedately. “He acted up in training again. He wouldn’t focus and indicate when I deployed him, and he wouldn’t ‘out’ his damn toy.”

  Rick’s simmering anger threatened to boil over, something he seldom allowed. He took a step forward, intentionally forcing the other cop to look up at him. “Brody, go get yourself a coffee, huh? I’ll watch Nitro while you take a break. Sounds like you guys could use a time-out. I’ll take him to the yard for a bit.” His words weren’t antagonistic, but they still carried the authority he knew few would argue with.

  “Fine.” Brody took a step back. He passed the end of the leash to Rick. “Go knock yourself out,” he added before stomping off, mumbling something under his breath. Rick knew it was directed at him and not complimentary. He shook his head watching Brody, and wondered why the guy didn’t participate in at least the basic fitness programs. That cop hadn’t seen the inside of the gym for years. Rick might’ve been a sergeant, but Brody didn’t report to him. Brody wasn’t his problem.

  He ran a hand along Nitro’s back and was gratified to feel the dog’s tension subside. Handlers had to be alpha to their dogs, but it was a bad situation when a dog was stressed just being in the vicinity of his handler. He knew a good canine with an ineffective handler made a poor team and could be a recipe for disaster. It also frustrated him that, more often than not, the dog was blamed when it w
as the handler’s fault.

  Rick left Nitro’s leash slack and signaled him to heel.

  Nitro had come to them with an excellent pedigree when he was fourteen months old. He had all the qualities they looked for in a detection dog—initiative, intensity, speed, agility and intelligence. He had high prey drive, combined with moderate rank drive, making him an ideal police dog. Nitro also possessed an elevated level of independence, which was better suited for narcotics dogs, allowing them to cover large areas more quickly. For explosives dogs it could be a hindrance since the dog might not readily perform directed searches of the type needed for explosives. However, they’d needed an explosives-detection dog at the time, and they’d found that Nitro was not just intelligent but adaptable. His independence wasn’t a deterrent. But Rick suspected that Nitro might have been a bit too independent and strong-willed for the spineless Brody.

  Rick had some experience with explosives detection, too, so he’d worked with Nitro for some of his training and felt the dog had excellent potential. Unlike what Brody had claimed, Nitro had performed very well from an obedience standpoint and never demonstrated problems with “outing,” or releasing, his toys.

  But an out-of-shape handler with an intense, fast-moving, purely instinctive animal was not a good pairing. Rick shook his head in disgust. Not the dog’s fault, he thought again. He draped Nitro’s leash across the dog’s back as they walked outside. He knew Nitro didn’t need to be led. He had the dog follow him into the kennel area, where he’d left Sniff. He put Nitro into a kennel briefly, too, while he went into the yard to set up the training exercise. Once he was done, he released both dogs and called them to follow him to the yard.

  When he reached down to unclip Nitro’s leash, the dog flinched. Rick narrowed his eyes and felt his temper rise again. In his experience, dogs flinched when you reached toward them only if they expected to be struck. That meant it had happened to Nitro on more than one occasion. Although Rick had no fondness for Brody, he hadn’t planned to make an issue of what had happened that morning. But if Brody was abusing Nitro, Rick couldn’t ignore that. He had to tell Logan what he suspected.