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Luke took a step toward her. “It’s not your fault. Once Violet entered a shelter, where she should have gone months ago, Ford turned his virulent hatred on us. He might have walked in and shot everyone in sight. It’s a miracle only Nick died.”
Seeing she was unconvinced, Luke addressed his next comment to Dave. “Garcia believes Ford’s murder is directly linked to the mural shooting. While no one admitted seeing the shooter, he’s certain someone must have and tipped off the Lady in Red.”
“Give it up, Luke,” Dave chided. “Catherine and I found your disguise.”
Puzzled, Luke glanced toward Catherine, who was staring at him through tear-filled eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t own a disguise.”
“I was looking through your desk for the shelter’s number to call Violet,” Catherine admitted hesitantly. “Your Lady in Red outfit is in the bottom drawer.”
“Now I know it’s time for you to go home,” Luke replied. “Please leave.”
Catherine shook her head. “I just want to know why.”
“Why is some goofy disguise in my desk drawer? Someone must have planted it there. I’ve already given you my opinion of vigilantes. Even if I agreed with those who move outside the law, there are too damn many evil men who prey on kids for me to kill them all. So what would be the point?”
As usual, he sounded convincing, but Catherine was too frightened to judge clearly. “I’ll never say a word to the police, but you’ve got to
get rid of your disguise and promise you’ll not kill anyone else.”
“For the last time, I don’t own a disguise, and I haven’t killed anyone,” Luke argued. “What’s been going on here, Dave?”
Dave shrugged. “There’s no need to play dumb with us. We’re not afraid of being named accessories to your crimes. We just want the Lady in Red to disappear tonight.”
Luke shot Catherine a dark look. “For the last time, get out of here.”
He was truly angry now, and Catherine wondered if it was because he was innocent, or God forbid, guilty and infuriated at being caught. She and Dave had backed him into a corner, and she couldn’t bear to listen to anymore lies. She rose, but rather than stand to move out of her way, Dave came off the desk to block her path.
“Catherine stays,” he said.
Luke backed out into the outer office. “Come on out here where there’s more room to talk.”
“Not if you’re just going to lie,” Dave countered.
“I’m not the one lying here. Garcia is close, but he’s too committed to the idea one of the Lost Angel kids is the killer to consider any alternatives. In his mind, Ford’s murder merely proves his theory. I have another one.”
Standing behind Dave, Catherine saw the clear outline of a knife tucked in his hip pocket. She didn’t recall ever seeing him carry a pocketknife. While she might have missed it, that night it struck her as an ominous sign. He had easy access to Luke’s office and could have planted the disguise in Luke’s desk any time, even that afternoon while Pam had been away to summon her.
She’d thought the death of Luke’s daughter might have compelled him to murder, but Dave had suffered tremendous losses of his own. He was always eager to be helpful, but had he struck out on his own to fight the dangers threatening Lost Angel’s teenagers?
She backed away from him, but with him blocking the aisle, she was trapped between the chairs and file cabinets. “I’d like to hear your theory, Luke. Please tell us.”
Luke came back to the doorway. “In some respects, I’ve been as shortsighted as Garcia. I was certain none of the Lost Angel kids was the Lady in Red, but I hadn’t given any thought as to who it might be. Then Ford was killed, and it seemed much more likely the murderer was somehow linked to the center.
“This afternoon I asked Garcia why they’d pinned Ford’s murder on the Lady in Red if no one had seen her, and he told me no one else slices up her victims in the same way. The coroner recognized the knife wound in Ford’s belly instantly.
“Catherine, you asked Garcia once if it didn’t take tremendous strength to stab someone the way the Lady in Red has, and he just shrugged it off. I asked myself who might have the necessary strength, and who might have recognized Ford Dolan’s truck when he fired on the mural. Only one name came to mind.”
“That’s funny,” Dave interjected. “We came up with yours.”
“Leave Catherine out of this,” Luke demanded angrily. “We’ve got all night. You and I can work something out on our own. Let’s send her home.”
There was an alarming edge to Luke’s voice, and easily following his line of reasoning, Catherine knew she would be wise to get away now and call the police. “I think I will go. Excuse me, Dave, I need to get by.”
“Sit,” Dave ordered. “No one is going anywhere.”
Catherine tried to ease by him. “You’re scaring me, Dave. I want to go home.”
With a sudden quick turn, Dave shoved her back into her chair with his left hand, and drew his knife with his right. With the tap of a button, he flicked open a razor-sharp blade.
