Now that they’d finished with their cheesecake, Robert pushed back his chair and began to gather up the dirty plates. Liz started to get up. “I’ve got this,” he said. “I’m anxious to see the paint job that your husband did. I must admit, he’s never impressed me as being all that artistic.”
Sawyer wadded up his cloth napkin and threw it at Robert. “If I get tired of wrestling with the bad guys, maybe I’ll start my own painting business.”
“Not a chance, Michelangelo,” Robert said. “You’re not leaving me on my own.”
Liz shook her head. “Like either of you would ever stop being cops. Come with me.”
They followed Liz back to Catherine’s room. It had been painted a pale mint-green. Waist-high was a border of dancing teddy bears in yellows and pinks.
“It’s adorable,” Carmen said. “Very impressive. Can I hire you? My kitchen desperately needs paint.”
Sawyer smiled and shook his head. “I don’t want to see another stir stick for quite some time. Robert, you seemed to know a lot about painting earlier.”
“I work cheap,” Robert said, his tone casual.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Carmen said, grateful to get out of the conversation so easily. The idea of sexy Robert Hanson in her kitchen, face smeared with paint, looking all adorable, had the butterflies double-timing it. Her stomach lining was getting scratched. “I should probably get going,” she added.
Sawyer and Robert grabbed coats out of the closet and Carmen hugged her friend. “Thank you so much. Everything was delicious. Remember, I’m going to be late tomorrow.”
“Be careful, okay?” Liz replied, her tone serious.
Both Sawyer and Robert immediately stopped their conversation. “What’s going on, honey?” Sawyer asked, moving close to his wife.
“Carmen has a new client. Unfortunately, the girl hasn’t told her parents that she’s pregnant. She’s afraid to. Dad evidently has a history of a violent temper. Anyway, she asked Carmen to be there when she breaks the news.”
Robert took a step forward. “He’s coming to OCM?”
“No,” Carmen said. “That won’t work. The minute she tells him that she wants to meet him at a pregnancy counseling center, he’s going to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.”
“You’re not going to this guy’s house?” Robert asked, his tone challenging.
Carmen shook her head. “No. I’m not that crazy,” she said, trying to make light of it. She saw that it wasn’t working. “Frank Sage evidently stops for coffee every morning at a little place on the corner of Taylor and Minx. His daughter and I are going to meet there and uh, break the news. It’s a public place where he’ll probably feel inclined to behave. It was the best plan I could come up with.”
Robert was frowning at her. “You do this kind of thing often?”
“Not often, but I’ve had cases where we’ve had to quickly remove a young girl from a situation when her parents or her boyfriend or somebody else couldn’t handle the news of the pregnancy. We need to protect our clients and their babies.”
“You think that’s what’s going to happen here?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know. I should be able to tell. If I have any reason to believe that he’s going to harm my client physically, I’ll take the necessary steps.”
Liz stepped in and wrapped an arm around Carmen’s shoulder. “She’s little but she’s tough. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “Be careful driving home.”
She and Robert left. She saw a red SUV parked behind her car. She assumed it was Robert’s. “Well, good night,” she said when they got to her car.
“It’s pretty late,” he said. “How about I follow you?”
Was Robert Hanson asking to be invited in? The idea was absurd. And terribly exciting. She felt sixteen again. “I drive all the time at night,” she said.
“That doesn’t make it a good thing. Please let me do this.”
Liz had always said that both Sawyer and Robert were real gentlemen. “Okay. Do you need my address?” she asked. “In case you lose me at a light?”
He shook his head and smiled. “I won’t lose you.”
And he didn’t. She drove a sedate thirty-eight miles an hour and he stayed a couple car lengths behind her. The whole time she worried about what she should say if he asked to come in. When she parked at her apartment building, she still didn’t have an answer.
He pulled up next to her.
“What floor?” he asked.
“Second. That window is my kitchen,” she said, pointing at the end of the building closest to them.
“Okay. Flip the light twice and I’ll know you’re in safe. Have a good night, Carmen.”
“Uh...sure. Thanks.” She practically ran into the building. She got inside her apartment and pressed herself up against the hard wall. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she didn’t think it was from the physical exertion.
Then she remembered to flip the light twice.
Robert Hanson wasn’t interested in coming inside, and she was a fool to think so.
Chapter Three
Thursday
Carmen was just slipping on her shoes the next morning when she heard Raoul’s door slam. “You’re up early,” she said, ruffling his hair as he walked past her.
He didn’t answer. Just went to the cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal. He poured a big bowl, added milk, grabbed a spoon from the drawer and stood at the counter. “I have band practice this morning,” he said with his mouth full.
She ignored the poor manners. Lately, Raoul hadn’t offered much conversation; she wasn’t inclined to shut him down. “Practice before and after school?”
“Winter concert is next Thursday,” Raoul said. “Mr. Raker said we better improve fast or we’re going to be an embarrassment to ourselves and our families.”
Carmen smiled. Mr. Raker could get a little over-the-top sometimes. “You’ll pull it off. I know you will.”
“I guess.” He chewed. “Hey, Carmen. Did Hector have a lot of friends in high school?”
Hector. He’d been two years older and in every way possible, her hero. And then he’d made a few bad decisions that changed the course of his life. All their lives, really.
And then he’d died.
“I guess,” she said. Raoul never talked about Hector. “Why do you ask?”
He stared at her and put his half-eaten cereal down. “He was my brother. Can’t I ask about my brother?”
“Of course,” she said. “It’s just...you surprised me, that’s all. What would you like to know?”
He grabbed his coat. “Never mind,” he said. “I have to go. It’s Mrs. Minelli’s turn to drive. She’s probably already here.”
“Raoul,” she said.
A slamming door was her answer.
“Say hi to Jacob,” she said, her voice trailing off at the end. She sank down on one of her kitchen chairs. Over the years, she’d had a few clients who were as young as fourteen or fifteen, but girls were different. They communicated. Boys just shut down.
It was driving her crazy.
She