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