“Like snapping pictures of married men and women cheating on their spouses. That’s not exactly uplifting.”
“I guess not.”
“What was your most memorable case—when you were a cop,” she asked.
He thought about that for a few minutes. “A hostage situation. A guy I was trailing snatched up a mother and child and threatened to kill them. He knew I was the one on his case. He insisted that I go in there and exchange myself for the woman and kid.”
She sucked in a sharp breath as she pictured the situation. She didn’t have any doubts when she said, “You made the exchange.”
“Yeah.”
“What happened? Well, I had some instructions from my Lou—my Lieutenant. I kept the bad guy talking while the SWAT team got into position.”
She swallowed. “That sounds . . . dangerous.”
“Sometimes cops have to deal with danger.”
She gave a little nod.
His gaze bored into hers. “So—would you. . . uh . . . get involved with a man who got into that kind of danger?”
She answered immediately. “Yes.”
“You wouldn’t resent his profession?”
“It would make every minute with him precious,” she said. Then, feeling a little embarrassed, she looked down at her plate.
The conversation had gotten pretty intense. Both of them backed off, each concentrating on the food.
Searching around for another topic, she said, “You were going to tell me what else you were doing this afternoon.”
That naughty little-boy look flashed across his face again. What had he been up to, exactly?
“What do you mean?” he said carefully.
“When I asked where else you went besides the mall, you said you’d tell me at dinner.”
He sighed. “Okay, I went back to the police department and chatted up one of the officers on the force. According to him, there have been some cases where houses have been broken into.”
“That’s similar to what happened to me.”
“The difference is that there hasn’t been a recent incident where an occupied house was burglarized. If the motive is robbery, the perp prefers that nobody’s home because it’s safer for him.”
She nodded.
“Which means either the guy who broke into your house thought the place was empty, or he was. . .”
She could see him struggling for a way to say it. “He wanted to . . . hurt someone,” she finished.
“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t like giving . . . bad news.”
“It’s better to know what we’re up against.”
“Do we? We still don’t know the reason for the attack. The guy could have seen you around the neighborhood and zeroed in on you.”
She shivered, and he reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“What other reason could there be?” she asked.