“I was more than half serious with that answer. Trish has always relied on prayer. But she also knows I never take unnecessary risks, and that I’m well trained and experienced at this job. She factors all that in. Does she still worry? Yes. On the flip side, I worry about her too. The school where she teaches is in a risky area. In the end, though, you have to let people do what they’re called to do and put the rest in God’s hands. Once you manage that, life is much less stressful.”

That was the longest speech Colin had ever made in his presence—and it seemed to come from the heart.

“Thank you.”

“Hey . . . anything to help smooth the path of romance.” He winked.

Brent wasn’t touching that comment. “You ready?”

“Yeah. But you may want to get rid of the blood.” Colin tapped the left side of his own jaw.

“I must have cut myself shaving at the office. I was in a hurry.” He fished out a handkerchief and scrubbed at the spot.

“I thought you kept an electric razor there.”

“I do.”

“In that case, how—”

“Don’t ask. Let’s do this.” He stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. No way was he admitting he’d been so distracted since getting Eve’s call almost three hours ago that he’d shaved against the grain.

In all his years of law enforcement, that had never, ever happened—and the significance wasn’t lost on him.

But he didn’t have time to deal with the implications.

A guy who appeared to be in his late thirties answered the door seconds after they pressed the bell.

“John Allen?” Brent held out his hand.

“Yes.”

He did the introductions. “Thanks for your call. Every lead is appreciated.”

“Happy to help.” He lowered his volume. “Jeremy knows you’re coming, and he’s pumped about the idea of meeting a real-life detective—or two.” He encompassed Colin with that comment.

Excellent.

A kid who was excited was more apt to offer useful information than one who was nervous.

“You didn’t tell him why we’re interested in the man he saw, did you?”

“No. I understood your rationale for wanting to get his input without referencing a particular case. Please . . . come in.” He pulled the door wide. “Jeremy and my wife are waiting for you in there.” He indicated an archway off the foyer.

Brent crossed to the threshold, Colin on his heels.

A thirtysomething woman rose from the sofa, and the young boy beside her leaped to his feet, eyes dancing with excitement.

Brent repeated the introductions, ending with the nine-year-old. He bent down and held out his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

The boy shook his hand. Did the same with Colin.

“Why don’t we all sit?” John moved to the couch.