by Phoebe Conn
“Look, I’m playing Ford. I want him to flail around in his own misery for a few days. Then when it finally hits him that Violet is gone for good, he’ll either come back in a rage I’ll let the police handle, or he’ll cry, bitch and moan that no one understands him. I might be able to convince him to get treatment then. That’s my goal, not just to punch him out and send him on to abuse another poor girl. That won’t help anyone.”
“Well, at least you have a plan.”
“Of course, my life isn’t completely aimless.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that Ford scares me. When he actually believes he has the right to beat up Violet, how can you predict what he’ll do next?”
“I can’t, but psychology would be a really dull field if human behavior were always predictable. People tend to follow certain patterns. Those can be observed, and I doubt Ford is so creative he’ll go off on some new tack of his own.”
“Still, I wouldn’t put anything past him. Do you consider me predictable, by the way?”
Luke laughed and hugged her as they passed through the office on their way to the hall. “Never, but that’s the challenge. Now let’s eat.”
“Easy for you to say.” She trusted Luke, and his years of experience had given him a confidence she would never attain. Still, there was a wild gleam in Ford’s eye that had been truly terrifying.
Chapter Seventeen
On the way home from Lost Angel on Tuesday afternoon, Catherine stopped by a drugstore and bought a pregnancy test kit. She followed the directions with meticulous care, then couldn’t bring herself to check the results. She wished Luke were there to do it for her, and in the next breath, was relieved that he wasn’t.
“Courage, Catherine.” She finally forced herself to look, and just as she’d feared, the result was positive. She had already known the truth in her heart, but holding the scientific proof was still daunting.
It was dusk before she walked up the street to tell Joyce. Her friend welcomed her with an ecstatic cry and then took note of her somber expression. “I’m pregnant,” Catherine blurted out.
“I knew it. Come on in. Let’s have a drink to celebrate, or bemoan the fact, whichever, but I guess alcohol isn’t recommended, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. But I stopped by to let you know you’ve convinced me to tell Luke right away. He’s a stickler for honesty, and waiting will only worsen his reaction.”
“That’s a big plus right there. At least split a soda with me. Have you planned what you’ll say?”
“No, but I’ll try and sneak up on the subject rather than pummel him with it.”
“You might as well try to sneak up on the Matterhorn. What can you possibly say?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll wait until we’re away from Lost Angel and he’s in a real mellow mood.”
“Sleep with him first, you mean? That could work, I suppose.” Joyce pulled a can of diet 7UP from the refrigerator, poured two glasses and added ice.
Catherine carried her glass to the breakfast table and sat. “Sleeping with him would be too devious, but he’s always more relaxed away from the center.”
Joyce joined her at the table. “Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. He might be thrilled at the prospect of fatherhood.”
Catherine took a sip of her drink. “Not a chance. The very best I can hope for is stunned silence. Now how did Saturday’s date go with Shane?”
Joyce’s expression lit with a happy glow, but turning shy, she ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “It went exceptionally well, but that’s trivial compared to your news.”
“No, it isn’t. I want to hear all about it,” Catherine encouraged, but as Joyce described how affectionate Shane had become, her mind drifted away. Her whole life had changed since meeting Luke, but she had little hope he’d welcome those same changes in his neatly ordered world.
She glanced up and found Joyce had fallen silent. “I’ll tell Luke tomorrow,” she promised. “I’ll invite him to come over for dinner, and then I’ll break the news.”
“You go, girl. I’ll be home tomorrow night, so give me a call if you need reinforcements.”
“I just might,” Catherine admitted, but this was one thing she was determined to do on her own.
Despite Catherine’s resolve, she found it difficult to approach Luke Wednesday morning. She avoided the Lost Angel office and went straight to Toby’s. The kids were fooling around, not ready to get to work yet, while Rafael was already busy painting in the features of another angel.
Nick was out on the sidewalk with his skateboard doing tricks, but when he saw Catherine, he yelled to his buddies, “Hit the brushes, Mrs. Brooks is here.”
“Thanks, Nick, maybe we should let you foreman this project.”
Nick spun in a tight circle, then stepped off his board and picked it up. “No, thanks, this is enough work for me. Where’s your honey?”
Catherine rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. “I’m not the director of Lost Angel, so I won’t ban you from the site for that remark, but please don’t say that kind of thing to Luke.”
“Are you kidding? He’s already warned us to watch our mouths. But you do make a hot couple.” Still carrying his skateboard, he walked across the yard to join Polly and his buddy, Max.
Catherine was relieved Nick hadn’t inquired into the more intimate details of their relationship, but she still feared he might be giving Luke a hard time. “Luke can handle it,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Handle what?” Luke asked.
Surprised by his sudden appearance, Catherine fought to find a smile as she turned to face him. “Lost Angel, of course. If you’ve no plans for the evening, I’d like you to come over for dinner. There’s something we need to discuss.”
“That sounds ominous. Should I be worried?”
She was already frantic enough for the both of them and glanced away. “You asked me to signal before I make a turn. That’s all I mean to do.”
He reached out to lift her chin. “Now I’m intrigued. I have a meeting that’ll take most of the afternoon, so I might be a little later than usual, but I’ll be there for dinner.”
“Thank you.” She attempted to sound delighted rather than apprehensive. When he kissed her cheek before returning to Lost Angel, she was pleased to have succeeded.
She glanced up the street, but Garcia and Salzman were no longer parked in front of the auto supply store. She supposed that meant they’d given up on their ludicrous theory that one of the teenagers was the Lady in Red. She hoped they’d gone snooping in a more appropriate direction.
She wandered around the yard encouraging everyone to get busy, but with a project they cherished, it didn’t take much to inspire them. When Rafael came down off the scaffold to refill his paint containers, she approached him.
“Do you think another week will do it?” she asked.
“Maybe, but what’s your hurry? We’ve all got plenty of time.”
“That may be true, but this beautiful mural may very well lead to others, and I’d like to be ready for the next opportunity.”
Rafael wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his chartreuse T-shirt. “Toby says Art Center is cooking up a scholarship for me. What do you think of that?”
“I think it’s great, but there’s a lot of talent out here.”
“Maybe, but I’m definitely the best.”
Catherine refused to argue with him, but it annoyed her he was right. She took her beach chair out to sit and observe, but even with the colorful project to supervise, she feared it was going to be a very long day.
After the afternoon meeting ran even longer than expected, Luke still took the time to go home to shower, shave, and change clothes before going to Catherine’s. He was more curious than worried about the evening, but believed it couldn’t hurt to look his best. He wanted to take her something, and decided upon a box of chocolate turtles.
“Thank you, I love these,” Catherine exclaimed after kissi
ng him hello. “You’ve spoiled me terribly, Luke, and I keep telling you not to bring me presents.”
“Those aren’t a present; we can eat them with dessert. Now what can I do to help with dinner?”
“I thought we’d barbecue steaks. Will you light the charcoal?”
“Sure, where’s the apron?” He followed her into the kitchen and promptly began to swear. He yanked his pager off his belt and checked the number. “Lost Angel doesn’t page me at night unless there’s a real emergency. I left my cell phone in the car. May I use your telephone?”
“Of course.” Catherine gestured toward the one on the kitchen wall. She turned away to give him some privacy, but she was concerned too. She couldn’t follow the gist of the conversation from Luke’s comments, but rather than continue to prepare dinner, she sat at the breakfast table to wait.
When Luke hung up, he remained by the telephone for several seconds before relaying the bad news. “I’ll have to take a rain check on dinner. There was a drive-by shooting half an hour ago. The mural was sprayed with bullets, and a couple of the kids were hit.”
She leapt to her feet. “My God! Have they been taken to a hospital?”
“Yes, I’m going there now.”
“I’ll come with you.” She grabbed her purse from the entryway table and followed him out the front door. “Was it a gang shooting?”
“Sure sounds like it.” Luke started his Subaru, then paused before putting the car in gear. “Dave said it was bad, and it might be a long night. Maybe you should reconsider and stay home.”
She buckled her seat belt. “No, I want to be with you. Drive.”
“All right, but don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“I won’t. Did Dave tell you who was hurt?”
“Nick and Max. Hang on, I’ll try and beat the ambulance to the County/USC Medical Center.”
She’d ridden with him before and assumed he must be exaggerating, but he wasn’t. They sped from one freeway to the next, zipping in and out of traffic, and pulled into the County/USC parking lot in what she was convinced had to have been record time. She grabbed his hand as they headed for the Emergency entrance.
Dave and Toby were in the waiting room, along with Polly, whose dress was splattered with blood. Dave got up and came to meet them. “We were just standing in Toby’s yard when we heard what sounded like firecrackers. Max screamed and grabbed his leg, but Nick just fell. That’s his blood all over Polly, rather than hers, but she was standing right next to him, and it’s a wonder she wasn’t hit too.”
“Take care of Polly,” Luke urged. “I’ll check with the doctors.”
Catherine nodded, but she hadn’t realized how quickly visiting an emergency room would bring back painful memories. Suddenly light-headed, she sat beside Polly and took her bloodstained hand.
“Polly, let’s find a restroom, and I’ll help you clean up.”
Polly turned toward Catherine, but her gaze was blank. “The bullet tore off the side of Nick’s head. He’s dead.”
Catherine would have begged her not to give up hope, but Toby caught her eye and nodded. The waiting room was crowded, and she could hear someone crying softly in the row of chairs behind them.
“We still need to clean up.” She rose and, with a gentle tug, raised Polly from her chair.
Catherine found the nearest women’s room, led Polly over to the sink and eased her backpack to the floor. “Take off that dress, and we’ll rinse it out. You have other clothes in your backpack, don’t you?”
“There’s no point in washing my dress when I’ll never want to wear it again,” Polly insisted.
Polly removed her hat, then yanked off her badly stained dress, wadded it up and shoved it into the trash container. Underneath, she had on a tank top and shorts, so she was still fully clothed.
“That’s fine, as long as you have something else to wear.” Catherine held the faucet to keep the water on as Polly began to scrub her arms. Two other women came in, appeared unconcerned by Polly’s gruesome appearance, and entered the stalls.
Catherine felt sick clear through. She’d wanted to be there, indeed, was convinced she should be there. But after they’d all had such a good time painting the mural, to have a tragedy like this strike was nearly unbearable. She tore off several towels and handed them to Polly.
“I don’t expect you to feel any better, but you look far more presentable now,” Catherine told her.
“That’s ’cause all people can see is the outside.” Polly unzipped her backpack, and after a quick perusal of her choices, she drew out another gauze dress in a tiny floral print. She slipped it over her head, fluffed out her hair, and added her hat.
“Let’s go see if there’s any news about Max,” Polly suggested. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and led the way to the waiting room. A little child was screaming in the corner, but she went straight to her chair without glancing his way.
Even with the bright splashes of color on his tattoos, Toby looked pale. “Maybe the mural wasn’t such a good idea after all,” he whispered as Catherine sat down.
“No, it was a wonderful idea,” she argued. “The city is filled with crazy people who get their kicks shooting off guns. It doesn’t matter what you do or where you go, anyone can become a target of random violence.”
Dave was slumped back in his chair. “I didn’t see the gunman, did you, Toby?”
“I was too busy grabbing for dirt, and all I saw was blood.” Toby shuddered and rubbed his arms. “Is it freezing in here, or is it just me?”
“It’s cold,” Polly agreed, “probably to keep the bodies from rotting.”
“They’d be in the morgue,” Dave said, “not here.”
Catherine put her arm around Polly and hugged her, but the girl was sitting so stiffly, she doubted the sympathetic gesture was felt. An ambulance cut its siren as it drew up outside, and she tried to imagine spending a whole shift flying from one ghastly accident or emergency to the next. Faced with that horror, she didn’t understand how paramedics remained on the job for more than a day or two.
When Luke finally rejoined them, his expression was grave. “Max lost a lot of blood, so they’re keeping him overnight, but he’ll be all right. Nick didn’t make it.”
Of all the kids at Lost Angel, Catherine had known Nick the best. He had teased her only that morning, and she could still recall the sound of his infectious laughter. “Could we see Nick?” she asked.
Luke appeared incredulous. “Why would you want to?”
“I’d like to say good-bye.”
“Me too,” Polly said. “Will you ask them, Luke, please?”
Toby stood and took a shaky step. “I’m not up for viewing a body. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m going to be sick.”
Dave came up out of his chair. “I’ll see you make it to the restroom.”
Luke watched the pair make their way down the hall before turning back to Catherine and Polly. “They asked me if someone was here, so I think they’re cleaning Nick up. Give me a minute to check.”
Polly whispered as Luke walked away, “He isn’t crying, but he looks like he lost his own kid.”
“In a way, he did,” Catherine responded. “All of you at Lost Angel are his children.”
But it looked to her as though Luke had simply detached from the unexpected sorrow. He was taking care of the necessary details, doggedly doing his job, she supposed, but he’d cut himself off from the pain. Rather than merely sad, to her he looked hollow and completely spent.
When they were able to see Nick, Luke hung back by the door. Catherine took Polly’s hand as they approached the treatment table where Nick still lay. His head was bandaged to hide the wound, and he appeared to be only sleeping. Polly leaned over to kiss his cheek and burst into tears.
“Nick always watched out for me,” she cried. “What am I going to do now?”
Catherine hugged her rather than answer. “I’ll miss him too, sweetheart. We all will.”
Te
ars stung Catherine’s eyes, but she forced them away for Polly’s sake. She reached out to touch Nick’s shoulder and gave him a tender squeeze. He had not deserved this, but then no one did.
“It’s time to go,” Luke called softly from the doorway.
Polly kissed Nick a last time, wiped away her tears and followed Luke out into the hall. “What about Max? Shouldn’t we visit him too?”
“Maybe tomorrow. Tonight he needs to rest,” Luke replied. “Toby and Dave will give you a ride back to Lost Angel.”
Catherine had another concern. “Wait a minute, Luke. We aren’t Nick’s parents, but can we claim his body?”
“I already did. That’s what took me so long, but we needn’t go into details here.”
“Fine, I didn’t want to abandon him.”
Toby and Dave were waiting for Polly, and Dave dropped his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go on back to Lost Angel. Everyone will be waiting to hear what’s happened.”
“They’re not going to like this,” Polly said.
“No, I imagine not,” Toby added, and the three of them huddled close as they walked out into the night.
Luke didn’t speak until they got to his car. “I can’t go back to Lost Angel tonight. I’m taking you home.”
The evening Catherine had planned forgotten, it didn’t occur to her that he meant his place rather than hers until he got on the freeway and headed west. That he would want to take her to his home was a relief, however, for she hadn’t wanted him to grieve alone. She didn’t care if his anger spilled over into tears; she just wanted him to react rather than withdraw any further.
There was underground parking at Luke’s condo building, and he rolled the Subaru into his space, then held Catherine’s hand as they walked to the elevator. He didn’t speak as they waited for it to arrive, nor did he comment as they rode up to the fifth floor. He unlocked his door and drew her inside, where the light in the entryway was dim.
Rather than break his silence to welcome her to his home, Luke abruptly shoved her against the door and kissed her with a near brutal passion. After her initial shock, her choice was made in an instant. She clung to him rather than struggle to tame his agony. She returned his fevered kisses and encouraged him to exhaust his heartache on her.