The Baby Cop. Roz Fox Denny

He told us the minute the rabbit died.”

      “What cave have you been living in, Fitzgerald? Rabbits no longer have to kick the bucket. Now they have this innocuous little strip of litmus paper that turns a different color if the lady’s pregnant.”

      “Have a lot of experience checking those strips, do you, Knight?”

      “The sum total of my experience comes from having six sisters, Fitzgerald, five of whom married. Plus, one of my brothers has a wife. So get outta here. You must have reports to write or something.”

      “Always. But I actually stopped in to pass on some information. Dani asked me to tell you that her brother’s wife, Maddy Hargreaves, has been approved to take up to three foster kids.” He dug in his shirt pocket, pulled out a pink message sheet and slid it across the desk to Ethan.

      “Good for Maddy. She and Greg have that great old six-bedroom house down in the central area. Their Josh needs to be around other kids. Did Maddy tell Dani what ages she’d prefer?”

      Brian shook his head. “Oh, wait. Dani said something about preschool or kindergartners. Her message was a little garbled, what with all the complaints about her ogre of a boss.”

      “Regan Grant?” Ethan stopped folding the message and pinned Brian with a wary look.

      “One and the same. I hear you’ve met Her Royal Battle-ax. I probably don’t have to tell you that rumors say she’s gunning for Desert City’s favorite shining knight.”

      Ethan flushed. If he had to have a nickname, he preferred the Baby Cop. “Word travels,” he murmured. “Guess Mitch shot off his mouth about me tangling with her, huh?”

      “You duked it out with Grant?” Brian’s eyes widened. “Wow. Is that why she climbed all over Dani about making sure Maddy’s authorization for foster care goes through the proper channels?”

      Ethan shook his head grimly. “Kick me for finding anything attractive about the new supervisor. I’ll take someone with Anna’s lived-in face and big heart over Regan Grant’s angel looks anyday. She’s got a rule book in place of her ticker.”

      “She pretty?”

      “Who?” Ethan asked idly as he tucked the message into his jeans pocket.

      Fitzgerald threw up his hands. “Battle-ax Grant. Who were we just discussing?”

      “Huh. She’s easy enough on the eyes.” Ethan rolled his own upward, too clearly recalling the tumble of blond curls that—more than once—he’d pictured tickling his naked chest. Ethan had resented the fantasy, since the woman had torn a strip off him. And she’d given him no reason to think she wouldn’t do it again if the opportunity presented itself.

      “Hmm. From the way Dani talks about her, I figured Grant’s got fangs, claws and one beady eye, all wrapped in a package of green scales.”

      “Hardly,” Ethan snorted. “If you’re just looking, she’s a babe.” His description of Regan Grant was punctuated by a huge yawn. “Babe or not,” he muttered, pushing back a sleeve to check his watch, “I can’t sit here all night discussing her. Tomorrow Taz and I are visiting the elementary schools. I’ve gotta be one of the good guys. Can’t go in with bloodshot eyes.”

      “How many years have you been putting on a uniform and going into the schools? Don’t you get tired of answering the same questions over and over?”

      Ethan leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his neck. “I took over the Stranger Danger program when Granddad retired. Must be ten years ago. And no, I never get tired of it. Those little kids are cute as buttons and clever as the dickens.”

      Fitzgerald grunted. “So where do we go wrong? How come I’m hauling so many of their smart-asses in for B & E’s, carrying concealed and worse?”

      Snapping forward in his chair, Ethan walked his computer through shutdown. Then he stood and shrugged into his leather jacket. After waking the slumbering Taz, he accompanied Brian to the door. “Somewhere between cute and clever and those smoking guns lurks a string of bad role models. How many kids see Dad drunk and disorderly or beating up on Mom? Sometimes both parents work sixty hours a week. Home gets lonely, so they find friends on the street. Sometimes it starts with empty kitchens and emptier bellies. The first thing they swipe is a piece of fruit or a can of soup. Kids don’t go bad by themselves, Brian. They have help.”

      The younger policeman sighed. “Now you sound like Dani. She’s a big one for pointing out why kids go bad. Maybe I need to switch jobs. I see so much juvenile crime, I’m not sure I want to bring a kid into this world. You’ve got twice the years on me in law enforcement, Ethan. Is that why you haven’t gotten married and had kids? ’Cause you deal with so many screwed-up families?”

      Ethan slowed his walk. “My own family isn’t screwed up. Like I said, five of my six sisters are married and so’s my brother Matt. All happily. So, no, I’m not afraid of having kids. I think I’d be a good dad.”

      “Then why are you still single?”

      “Good question. If you ask my mom, she’ll say it’s because I’m too busy trying to save the world.” A grin altered Ethan’s tired features.

      “Yeah. Relationships take a lot of time and energy,” Brian agreed. “Sometimes I go two weeks without seeing Dani. Both of us have hectic jobs and erratic hours. I’ve started to wonder if we’re crazy to get married.”

      Ethan clapped a hand on the younger man’s back. “The wedding is what—three months away? You probably have prewedding jitters. Right now Danielle’s working hard to get her master’s. Once she’s finished with that, you’ll have more time together.”

      “Thanks for the encouragement, Ethan.” Brian hung back and let Ethan proceed alone through the busy central office.

      Ethan couldn’t say why, but after he’d climbed into his SUV and headed home, he felt unsettled and vaguely jealous of Brian’s impending marriage. Headed home to a large empty house. A house once filled with the laughter of a boisterous family. A house always in need of cleaning because Ethan rarely spent enough daylight hours there to see how the dust had gathered.

      “Why aren’t I married, Taz?” Ethan often had conversations with his dog. He could count on Taz to be a sympathetic listener and he often found it helpful to talk through his problems aloud.

      Pulling his wet nose away from the front window, Taz barked. He placed a paw on Ethan’s right forearm and whined several times.

      “I know, buddy. I haven’t been serious about looking for a wife. But according to Matt, I like living the life of a playboy. Playboy—ha! How many months has it been since I took a woman out? Two? Three? Maybe four?” Ethan tugged disconsolately on the big Alsatian’s left ear. The dog lay down, his chin resting on Ethan’s thigh.

      “Before you know it, the best years of my life will have slipped away, Taz. Tomorrow I need to dig out my address book and see about getting back into circulation. Too bad Brooke Miller moved to Flagstaff. Her first-graders loved her. And I—ahem.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Speaking of teachers…if Becky Russell’s still at Cactus Elementary, maybe I’ll talk her into biking out to Saguaro National Park. What do you think, old boy? We could pick her up right after school and go for a burger after our ride.”

      Taz raised his head and woofed happily.

      “Dang. No, we can’t. I forgot all those messages about Regan Grant’s appointments. She’s going to visit Mom, a couple of my sisters and several wives of guys on the force.” He frowned. “You know something, Taz? She’s systematically checking on all my foster parents. Either she’s out to get me—or out to get them.” He paused for a moment. “What I’ll do is pick up Jeremy after school and take him to the folks’ place to shoot a few baskets. That way I’ll be there when Grant arrives. Just to see what’s got in her mind. I’m not too worried about her yanking kids from Jenny or Erica or the younger foster moms, but