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“I’m not dating anyone,” Catherine replied truthfully. “I was home last night cuddling with the cat.”
“That was a guilty grin if I ever saw one. You’ve met someone,” Joyce persisted. “Now spill it.”
“Sorry, but the subject under discussion is you and Shane.”
“Is not,” Joyce cried.
Catherine took her friend’s arm to direct her toward the right at the intersecting aisle. “There’s a white van. Could it belong to the woman with the type?”
“Yes!” Joyce exclaimed, “But you’re going to tell me all about this mystery man just as soon as we get home.”
“I won’t say a word until you call Shane,” Catherine promised, and she meant it.
Catherine went into Lost Angel on Monday morning. Pam was away from her desk, but Luke’s door was open, and he waved her on in. With the furniture back in place, the freshly painted office looked quite handsome, but Luke wore the same guarded expression she’d seen on their initial interview.
“The office is beautiful, but clearly something’s wrong,” she greeted him. “What happened with Rafael, or aren’t you at liberty to say?”
“That’s what I like about you, Mrs. Brooks. You never waste a moment in idle chatter. Please sit down, and forgive me, but I haven’t the energy to rise.”
Catherine chose her usual chair. There was a coffee container on his desk, but she thought he would be better off sipping Celestial Seasonings’ Tension Tamer Tea. She didn’t make the suggestion aloud, however.
“Since you’re so curious, let me begin where we left off.” Luke leaned back in his chair. “That Rafael was arrested for shoplifting was the least of his problems. The police found a few candy bars in his backpack, which he swore he’d purchased earlier in the day.
“The real problem lay in the hunting knife he’d stowed in the bottom of his pack. He claimed it’s a dangerous world and that he owned it for protection. The police had a different view and regarded him as a likely suspect in a string of unsolved stabbings.”
Alarmed, Catherine sat forward in her chair. “Do they believe that he killed Felix Mendoza?”
“No, apparently not, but there are plenty of other crimes.”
“Then he’ll need an attorney. There are several at my husband’s firm who do excellent pro bono work. Would you like me to call one?”
Luke cocked his head slightly. “You don’t know Rafael. Why are you so eager to come to his defense?”
“Well, someone has to,” Catherine responded.
Weary, Luke rubbed his right eye. His left was no longer swollen, and the deep bruising had begun to fade. “Have you always just jumped right into things?”
“If they’re important, yes. Granted there’s a time to be thoughtful, reserved, deliberate, but not when some poor kid is accused of multiple stabbings. You thought so too last Saturday, or you wouldn’t have left here to run down to the County Jail.”
“True. You’ve made your point, but you needn’t worry about Rafael. Lost Angel has all manner of volunteers, from those you might meet here at the center, to those who pick up food from supermarkets and restaurants that would otherwise be discarded, to several highly skilled attorneys. They’re taking care of Rafael and assure me the police don’t have enough evidence to hold him for shoplifting, let alone murder.”
Despite his earlier protest, he hauled himself to his feet. “I’m late for a community resources meeting that might last the whole day, so I probably won’t see you before you leave.”
When he paused, Catherine tried not to stare, but he sounded as though he was working up his courage to ask her out, and she wanted to savor every second of it. She licked her lips and offered an encouraging smile.
“From what Dave told me,” Luke continued, “you two are running with the mural project. I don’t want to discourage you, but let me line up a suitable building before you begin any preliminary drawings.”
That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. No, she corrected herself silently, what she’d hoped he would say. She made an attempt to shrug off her disappointment and rose to precede him into the outer office where Pam was now working at her computer.
They exchanged quick greetings, and then Catherine turned toward Luke. “You needn’t worry, I understand that you make the decisions here,” she assured him.
“That I do, but please don’t look so unh
appy. I didn’t forbid you to do a mural, but we need to take our time and do it right.”
“Of course,” Catherine agreed, but she wished he was referring to something more personal than an art project.
Luke had left the center before Catherine realized that she’d neglected to ask his permission to place the new rugs in the hall, but when she again found kids seated on the cold floor by the bookcases, she felt justified in acting on her own. With so many hanging around idle, she easily enlisted some help.
