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Hailey swept Marten’s key from the counter and grabbed her purse. As she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, she turned at the door. “Set the alarm when you get the chance—5806.”
Ayala waved.
When they stepped onto the porch and Hailey had shut and locked the dead bolt, Joe poked her in the side. “Now you have to change that code as soon as you get home.”
“I had to give it to her. How else was she going to arm it?”
“Just sayin’. Reset it.”
Hailey saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“I’m not in the navy.” He poked her again. “Are we taking your car?”
“There’s parking around the back, and I know Patrick’s car, so I can block him in if I have to.”
“There you go with your friends in high places again.”
As they got in the car, Joe glanced up at the window, partially obscured by the bushes in the front garden. The drapes stirred and then dropped into place. “Looks like Ayala didn’t waste any time setting the alarm.”
Hailey said, “Good. She seemed nervous.”
“She thought she saw something in the park.” Joe clicked his seat belt.
“Did she?”
“It was her imagination. There was nothing there.”
Hailey nodded. “Yeah, nervous.”
Hailey navigated like a pro through the busy San Francisco streets, driving past union Square, where the Christmas tree still towered above shoppers.
Two blocks later the shoppers had thinned out, replaced by shopping carts pushed by raggedy men and women looking to score a quick buck or two.
“How often do you come down here?”
“Not enough. My assistant, Gretchen, delivers care packages from the foundation occasionally.” She hit the steering wheel. “Shoot. We forgot to bring the food and toiletries.”
“I’ll write a check instead. I’m sure there are a fair number of vets out on the streets here. Let me feel the glow of a good deed for a change.”
“I have a feeling you do plenty of good deeds.” She wheeled around the back of a gray stucco building sporting a neon sign announcing the Mission Hope, only the P and the E had burned out at the end.
Joe nudged her and pointed at the sign. “I’m sure that’s not what Patrick wants to advertise.”
Hailey giggled. “It could be worse if the I, O and N on the end of mission were also burned out.”
She parked behind a black Prius with a Coexist bumper sticker.
“Let me guess.” Joe leveled a finger at the car. “That’s Patrick’s.”
“That’s why I’m parking here.”
Joe kept a tight hold on Hailey’s arm with one hand and a tight hold on the barrel of his gun with the other as they walked through an alley leading to the back door of the shelter.
A few homeless guys loitering with cigarettes dangling from their lips held out their hands. Joe brushed past them.
When they stepped inside, a cook hovering over a boiling pot called a welcome without looking up. “Dinner doesn’t start for another few hours and you can’t start lining up for another hour—around the front.”
“Actually, we’re here to see Patrick.”
The cook glanced up from his work. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, Patrick’s out in the van rounding up some poor souls for dinner.”
“That’s okay. Are the lockers still in the front room, on the other side of the dining hall?”
“They are.” He put his spoon down and swiped a towel across his forehead. “You lookin’ for something in particular?”
Hailey held up the key and dangled it in the light. “Just checking on my friend’s locker.”
“Okay, go ahead, then. What was your name again?”
“It’s Hailey. Hailey Duvall.”
“Ah, why didn’t you say so? I know the name, and now I know the beautiful face behind all that generous giving.”
“This place couldn’t run without people like you.” She closed her hand around the key and backed out of the kitchen.
She led the way past a dining area with rows of empty picnic tables lined up. “The locker room is on the other side of this.”
A couple of transients looked up from their card game as Hailey and Joe walked by a common room.
