“He still has to appear before a judge.”
Rowan didn’t care. The man was free after the scare he’d given everyone. “He’ll try again. Next time he’ll kidnap West or hurt Ivy. I know this guy. Once he has an idea in his head, he’ll stop at nothing—especially if it involves hurting Ivy somehow.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” His tone was calm, patience in his eyes as he let her vent.
Rowan spun around and paced, trying to calm her infuriated thoughts. She knew it wasn’t Evan’s fault. She had attacked the messenger. He appeared unruffled, but she knew he was angry about the situation too. He was the opposite of her ex, who would spout off and yell about anything that annoyed him.
Evan didn’t yell. She liked that. She never feared what would come out of his mouth or wondered what she should have done differently to keep him calm.
How did I marry that guy?
Evan’s eyes were nicer too. A dark brown that projected intelligence and kindness. When he was deep in an investigation, they would assess and analyze. Never accuse.
She felt safe with him. Not that she needed protection. But it meant she could be herself and relax.
Rowan took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You have every reason to be angry.”
“I didn’t need to attack you about it.”
His brows rose. “You consider that an attack? People have lunged at me with knives and scissors and bats. Threatened to shoot me or break my legs because something I said pissed them off. This was nothing.”
The corners of her mouth turned up; she couldn’t help it. He was trying to distract her, and it was working. “That’s horrible.”
He shrugged. “Comes with the job. You can’t be in law enforcement and let things push you over an edge into a reaction.”
“You see horrible situations.” Rowan had worked alongside law enforcement much of her life but had never witnessed a moment when one of their lives had been threatened. It took a special person to pursue the job. “How do you deal with it? I mean . . . when you were a deputy, you never knew what you would face that day. It could have been a traffic stop where you’re fired at or an active shooter in a school.”
Resolve entered his eyes. “You do what you’re trained to do. I didn’t get my deputy pay and excellent benefits to take reports about stolen lawn mowers or ticket speeders. I got it for the day I would have risk my life to save others without a second thought. You mentioned a school shooting. I’m trained to go in even if I am the only responder there. And if a shooter has locked themselves in a room with children, I go through that door. Hopefully with two other officers I trust. I go straight in, and the others follow behind me to the sides.”
Rowan stared at him. She’d known they were trained to go after active shooters, but now she had a vivid image of Evan risking his life in that scenario to save others. And she was rattled to the core. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “Few people would do that.”
“There’s little glamour in the job. We get spit on, called names, flipped off, and see some of the saddest or most disgusting sights you can imagine. Recruits know this, but until they experience it, they don’t know if they have the heart and soul needed for public service. I joined because I want to help people, and that’s what most officers will say is their reason. But there has to be a part of you that will sacrifice everything when called upon. Not everyone can stomach that.” His eyes softened. “Sorry. I didn’t need to go there.”
“It’s okay. It’s the truth.” Rowan blew out a breath. “We were talking about Adam. An actual coward.”
“Ivy is at work today?” he asked.
Rowan checked the time. “Yes. She should be at the salon. I’ll call her and then drive there.”
“Before you go, I wanted to ask you a question about Ken Steward.”
Her brain struggled to shift conversational gears, and she experienced a small wave of guilt because she hadn’t thought about Ken in a while.
It doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.
“What is it?”
“Did he talk about Jerry Chiavo with you?”
Rowan stiffened. The man’s name always did that to her. “Occasionally, I guess. We rarely said his name . . . just called him ‘that guy’ or ‘he.’ We both knew who we were referring to.”
“Did Ken ever tell you he wanted to visit Jerry in prison?”