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‘And it’s stuck with me ever since. I don’t know.’ He shrugged, looking up at her. ‘Maybe it was her age, maybe it was her dead-looking eyes, but all I could think was, there but for the grace of God…you know? And I just knew, right there at that moment, I knew I had to do something to help kids like that.’
There was silence for a few moments as they stared at each other. It was a moment when Carrie felt she could almost see into his soul. Everything was laid bare to her. There was compassion and righteousness and belief. How would she feel if Dana went off the rails and ran away from home, got into drugs? She could only hope there would be a Charlie with a blanket somewhere, looking out for her.
A few more moments ticked by. ‘So, your father’s not thrilled?’
Charlie chuckled and downed the remnants of his drink, ‘You could say that,’ he said, rising and heading for the sink.
Carrie’s mobile phone rang. ‘It’s my mother.’
Charlie nodded and headed out of the room to give her some privacy. ‘See you later.’
At nine o’clock Carrie was satisfied enough with her progress to call it a day. She packed up her laptop, grabbed her bag and threw her jacket over her arm.
‘I’m off,’ she said, leaning against Charlie’s doorjamb.
Charlie looked up. She’d applied some more lip gloss and her electric blue silk tempted him with its delectable contents. ‘I’ll walk you out,’ he said, feigning interest in a journal article as he rose.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine.’
He gave her a stern look. ‘This is the valley. The dodgy end. Daytime, fine. Nighttime, no way.’
Carrie laughed to hide her consternation. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Charlie’s aura was too disturbing. She gestured with her arm. ‘Lead the way.’
They walked side by side the short distance to the back alley where they both parked their cars. His beat-up old Datsun obscured her car temporarily, which was just as well.
‘Oh, no,’ she gasped, dropping her briefcase in horror.
Her hire car had been stripped and vandalised.
‘God damn it!’ Charlie shook his head, inspecting the damage. Her wheels were missing, the windows had been smashed and the seats slashed. ‘This is why I don’t bring the Beamer.’
‘You have a BMW?’ Carrie asked, temporarily forgetting about her car.
‘A present from my parents,’ he dismissed.
Of course. ‘How tragic for you.’
Charlie ignored her. ‘Were there any valuables in it?’
She shook her head. ‘Because it was a rental there was nothing in there of ours. Oh, except…’ Carrie quickly checked the empty back seat ‘…Dana’s car seat.’
Charlie looked at her. ‘I’ll buy you another one.’
Carrie groaned and turned to lean against the remnants of her car, trying not to think about the insurance excess she’d be facing. She earned good money but her mortgage was hefty and she always ran fairly close to the wire.
‘Come on,’ Charlie said, putting his arm around her shoulder and urging her away from the car. ‘We’ll call the police, file a report and I’ll drive you home.’
Carrie resisted the urge to put her head against his shoulder. Just. ‘I can catch a taxi.’
‘No, wouldn’t hear of it,’ he insisted. ‘It’s the least I can do, considering your car was more than likely vandalised by some of my clients.’
Carrie was relieved that Charlie had taken over. She sat in the lounge chair and accepted the cup of tea he’d made for her. The police came promptly due, no doubt, to Charlie’s close working relationship with them, and she gave them her details.
‘Did you say Swenson Street, miss?’
Carrie nodded at the policeman, who looked like he’d just graduated from high school. She had to concentrate hard on his questions because Charlie was sitting casually on the fat, squishy arm of her chair and his leg swung lazily in her peripheral vision.
‘We’ve just been there. Your burglar’s struck again.’
‘“Your” burglar?’ Charlie asked, sitting up straighter.
Burglar? Good grief, it made it sound like there was a master jewel thief at large. ‘We have a gnome-napper terrorising the street. Old Mrs Dennis’s gnomes are mysteriously disappearing.’
‘Ah.’ Charlie nodded. ‘Poor Mrs Dennis.’
Carrie could see the twinkle of mirth lighting his grey eyes, like the sun shining through rainclouds. ‘Yes, Swenson Street, just like living in the Bronx,’ she agreed gravely.
The police left and Carrie and Charlie argued over his offer of a lift. The clinic was dark, Charlie having turned off all the lights in preparation to leave. The streetlights bathed the lounge in a soft glow.
