“Sean…” If Lucas could just get him alone,they could figure this out.But of course there was no way Seancould let that happen, not after the gay slurs had been brokenout.
“Get out,” Sean said.He still wouldn’t lookin Lucas’s direction.
Lucas moved.He had no choice, and it allfelt strangely inevitable, anyway.There was no point in trying todrag it out any further.His old life was gone, and he didn’t havea new one ready to take its place.
Up the stairs to cram his few possessionsinto the duffel bag they’d come out of, then back down, past thesilent, damaged men smoking in the living room, and out onto thefront porch.The night was chilly, well below freezing, and Lucashad nowhere to go.
He stepped off the porch and glanced back atthe living room windows to be sure no one was watching.Then hecrouched down by the lattice underneath the raised porch and foundthe loose nails.It had been where he and Sean had set up theirclubhouse when they were little, and later where they’d stashedwhatever contraband they’d been trying to hide from Mrs.Gage.Now,Lucas’s shoulders were almost too wide to fit through the opening,but he scratched his way inside and managed to turn around to pullthe lattice back into place.
There wasn’t enough headroom for him to situp, so he curled into a ball on his side, his ribs digging into thehard dirt beneath him, and stared at the back of the steps.Hissanctuary was no warmer than anywhere else outside, but it wassomewhere he could be out of sight of his angry friends withouttotally violating the terms of his parole.It was pathetic, but itwas the best he could do.
ChapterEight
“Father Mark!”
Mark looked up to see Darren Samms’s ruddy,smiling face peering into the kitchen of the halfway house.It wasimpossible not to smile back and Mark set down his list ofinventory items in preparation for the inevitable next step.
Darren was a big man, tall as well as wide,and his hugs were full-body affairs.He was new to the area but notshy about making new friends, all of whom were greeted physically.Mark was getting used to it but he always wondered how the paroleofficer’s clients felt about the invasion of their space.Luckily,Darren was making a name for himself with an expert blend offirmness and compassion, so there hadn’t been too many complaintsabout his eccentricities, as far as Mark knew.“Good to see you,Darren.What brings you here?”
“Where’s your phone, Father?I tried to calland let you know I was coming, but there was no answer.”
“Oh.”Mark had turned the ringer off thatmorning, preferring to avoid calls from his parents, his rector,and everyone else, at least for a few hours.He’d justified it bythinking of it as a mini-retreat, but really, it had probablyinconvenienced more people than just Darren.“I’m sorry.I waslooking for a little peace, I guess.”
“In a halfway house for violentoffenders?”
“To each his own.What can I do for youtoday?”
“I’ve brought you a new resident.He’s notreligious, but the head office said you had a bed and everywhereelse is full.Can you help us out?”
“Sure.We’ve got a little space.Is he withyou?”
“In the car.”Darren stepped a little closerand dropped his voice.“He’s not talking much, but the place we’darranged for him to stay has fallen through.They were old friendsof his, about the only family the poor kid’s got left, so I thinkwhatever happened has hit him pretty hard.Only out for a few days,but he’s really been trying.He needs a little gentle treatment, Ithink.Even if there had been beds elsewhere, I’d have wanted toget him to you, if I could.I think you’ll be good for him.”
The twitching feeling in the back of Mark’sbrain was not at all comfortable.Staying with friends, only outfor a few days.Damn it.“What’s his name?Do I need to knowanything about his crime?”
“Manslaughter,” Darren said.“A bar fightwhen he was nineteen years old.Victim was older, bigger, and itsounds like he started the fight, but our boy lost his temper andhit the guy with a bottle.Bit of a mess, I guess.I wasn’t aroundfor it, but you probably remember the case?Apparently it got agood bit of media.”
Mark forced his lips and tongue to move,ordered his larynx to produce the sound.“Lucas Cain.”
“That’s right!”Darren said as if Mark hadwon a prize.“Glowing reports from his time inside.Therapy, gottrained as far as he could go in a couple different trades.Modelprisoner.I’ve only met with him once, when he first got released,but he showed up at the police station at six thirty this morningand asked to see me.They tell me he sat on a bench and didn’t moveor say a word for three and a half hours until I showed up.A bitshell-shocked, I think.”
Mark knew what Darren expected him to do.Heshould produce sympathetic words and a plan to get the clientinside and resting.And he knew what the rector would expect him todo.He should either explain the situation to Darren and tell himto find another bed, or immediately recuse himself from the case,call the rectory and request that someone else come and takeover.
Instead, Mark nodded slowly.“Bring himinside,” he said.“Let’s see what we can do.”
Darren nodded and headed back to the parkinglot, and Mark braced his trembling hands against the cool metal ofthe sink.Lucas Cain.He was here.He was about to stand in frontof Mark, those ice-cold eyes staring at the man whose brother he’dkilled.How would Cain react?How would Mark react?What the hellwas going on?
“Father?”Darren said, and Mark whirled.Cainwas standing in the doorway.He looked rumpled, as if he’d slept inhis clothes or not slept at all, and for the first time curiositystirred in Mark’s stunned mind.“This is Lucas Cain.”Darrenprodded the younger man forward.“Lucas, this is Father Mark.He’sone of the priests who runs the place, but there’s other staff aswell.The father will introduce you around, I’m sure.”
“I might not have a job.”The young man spokethe words in a monotone.“Am I supposed to pay rent?”
It was a ridiculously mundane question.Cainobviously hadn’t recognized Mark’s face.Darren probably hadn’tused Mark’s last name.Did Darren evenknowMark’s lastname?Did Darren know the last name of Cain’s victim?It wasbecoming obvious that Mark was the only one in the room who had anyidea what was going on.
“Having a job is a term of your parole,”Darren said, filling the silence after Mark had failed to answerCain’s question.“If you’ve lost the current job, you’ll need tofind another.If you can’t find another, we’ll look at getting youinto a training program, or finding somewhere for you to volunteerfull time.If you’re training or volunteering, we’ll look afterroom and board and give you a small amount for other expenses.”Darren glanced over to see if Mark was going to contributeanything, then added, “But you got some training inside,right?”
Cain slowly nodded.He seemed nearlycatatonic, as if the words were taking longer than they should toreach his brain.“Plumbing.Electrical.I started on carpentry.ButI couldn’t do a full apprenticeship in there.I don’t have myticket in any of it.”There was nothing wrong with the wordsthemselves, but the total lack of affect was definitely somethingstrange.
Darren ignored that, saying, “Still, you’vegot the makings of a damned fine handyman,” with a reassuringsmile.He clapped a hand on Cain’s shoulder and looked over atMark, sending ado you see what I was talking about?message.“We’ll find you something, if the roofing doesn’t workout.And you’ve got a weekend off now, some time to get settled into your new home.Could be worse.”
