“I think so,” Eve said slowly. “One officer was shot, and the two robbers were too. No one died, though.”
“Then-Officer Dorchester was three weeks out of the Academy when he and his training officer responded to the silent alarm. The robbers came out shooting. His partner took a bullet through the neck. Officer Dorchester pulled him behind a case and managed to hit both of the robbers while calling in the officer down. He received the Medal of Valor before he was out of his probationary period as a Lancaster police officer.”
Matt set his knife and fork on his plate, then said in an even voice, “It’s not relevant to this situation.”
“So neither is the Bronze Star for rescuing two wounded soldiers while under fire in Ramadi,” Caleb said clinically.
Water plunked into the sink in the kitchen. Outside, the neighbors’ grandkids squealed and splashed in a wading pool. Eve turned and looked at Matt. Not my first time at that rodeo … “It’s not relevant,” Matt repeated without a hint of emotion. “In both situations I was doing my job, nothing more or less than anyone else with my training would have done.”
Caleb looked up, his gaze intent. “It’s relevant. It means I trust you to keep my sister safe. It also goes toward character.”
Silence. Her brother and her lover were doing that male stare-down thing.
“Eve, I saw Lee McCullough yesterday,” her father said. Matt went back to the nearly inedible shepherd’s pie. Caleb continued to push vegetables around on his plate. Eve made a noncommittal noise, and her father continued. “He said he’d be happy to talk to you about any of the open positions at Lancaster Life.”
Nothing, not rain nor sleet nor expansionist gang leaders shooting at Eve under dark of night would keep her parents from finding her another job. “Dad, please tell Lee thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“After what happened Saturday night surely you’ll reconsider, Eve,” her mother said.
“No, I won’t, Mom. After what happened on Saturday night I’m less likely to close down Eye Candy and disappear into a corporate cube farm. As long as my customers keep coming back, then I’m going to stay open. If small businesses take a stand, then maybe the larger ones like Mobile Media will step up to the plate too.”
“Eve, the East Side’s issues are a question of values and choices,” her mother said.
“It’s a question of jobs, Mom,” she replied, but she felt heat climb in her cheeks as she said it. Normally her parents wouldn’t air family dissent in front of a stranger, but apparently the threat of physical violence changed the rules. “Crime drops in strong economies because people are employed, not desperate. People with jobs have somewhere to go and something to do. They have paychecks to spend, and they buy houses and cars. They get vested in a life and a community. Since when do we cut and run at the first sign of trouble? Everything I know about community and family and faith I learned at this dinner table. What message do we send to the rest of the neighborhood if we back down when it gets personal?”
“Detective Dorchester, surely you have a professional opinion about all of this,” Eve’s mother said.
She waited for him to join the chorus of people suggesting she die a slow death in a gray-walled cubicle. Matt finished his mouthful of mashed potatoes, then said, “While there are a variety of security measures Eve could implement at Eye Candy, I believe Murphy singled her out because of their past history, not because she owns a nightclub. Any number of small businesses would have worked as a front. Ultimately, it’s not my place to speak for her.”
Caleb’s gaze sharpened. Her mother covered her astonishment by guiding the conversation to mutual acquaintances, local politics, and the road construction snarling traffic into downtown. Promptly at six, her mother laid her napkin on her plate and got to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said to Matt. “I’m one of the few people left in the world who gets her local news from the evening news broadcast.”
“Pastor Webber, can I have a moment?” Matt asked.
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the kitchen Eve scraped the remnants of dinner into the garbage as water ran into the sink to wash the crystal, which was too delicate for the dishwasher. Caleb brought the last of the dishes from the dining room and leaned against the counter, his wineglass in one hand. “You’ve got a mark on your neck,” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his collarbone with his empty hand.
“The hell I do,” Eve said matter-of-factly as she slid the leftover lentil casserole into the fridge.
“Evangeline!”
“Sorry, Mom,” she called. The door to the den closed. Eve gave a resigned sigh. That had gone about as well as she’d expected. She wondered what Matt wanted with her father.