Mr. Talbot’s eyes moistened. “Don’t worry about that now. Don’t worry about anything. Okay? We’re going to get you help.” The police officer came back down the stairs. The man had gotten away. Mr. Talbot sat in the backseat of the squad car with Bobby Ray and said everything was going to be okay. The police officer talked into his radio.
Bobby Ray didn’t want to leave. How would his mother find him if he left the apartment? He cried and screamed curses, kicking the back of the police officer’s seat.
When they got to the police station, Mr. Talbot sat with him until a lady with sad eyes came. Mr. Talbot ran his hand over Bobby Ray’s head. “Take care of yourself.” Bobby Ray knew then he’d never see his teacher again.
“I want my mother.”
The lady nodded. “We’re going to try to find her. In the meantime, we have a safe place for you to stay.”
Bobby Ray ended up across town with strangers. How was his mother going to find him? He didn’t argue or say anything. He ate what was set in front of him. He took the bath the foster mother said he should, put on the pajamas, and went to bed without a word. As soon as the house was silent, he put his clothes back on and climbed out the window.
The police picked him up in the Tenderloin the next day, near the apartment house where he and Mama had lived. Authorities sent him to another foster family farther away. The people kept a closer eye on him, but he still made his escape in less than a week.
ROMAN MADE COFFEE and fixed breakfast for Jasper early Monday morning. He folded the omelet and slid it onto Jasper’s plate. Dumping the pan into the sink, he suggested they sit outside.
“Not eating?”
“Maybe later.”
Jasper slid the glass door open. “It’s a bit fresh out there.”
The morning mist hadn’t burned off yet, and wouldn’t for hours. “I can loan you a jacket.”
“I’m fine.” Jasper finished the omelet and leaned back. “What’s on your mind, Bobby Ray?” He lifted his mug of coffee.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do next.”
“Are you talking about art or Grace Moore?”
“How did she get into this conversation?”
“Is that what we’re having? A conversation?”
Roman got up and went to the wall. Half-sitting, he looked back at Jasper. He shouldn’t have called Grace that night. He shouldn’t have laughed at her. “I think I’ve painted myself into a corner.”
“How do you mean?”
“I paint what sells. That doesn’t mean I like it.”
“The work or the money?”
Roman stood, angry. “Can we have one conversation when you’re not asking me a bunch of questions?”
“It’s the only way I can get you to talk. I’m not here to tell you what to do.”
Roman gave a hard laugh. “You’ve been sticking your nose in since the day I met you.”
“You were a ward of the court and a royal pain when you arrived at the ranch, but we knew you were something special. Your art was a cry for help.”
“I was hoping to get kicked out.”
“Sit down, son. You’re making me nervous.” Jasper waited until he did. “You had something to say back then. You just stopped talking.”
“Graffiti doesn’t pay very well.”
“True. And it could land you in jail.” Jasper drank half of his coffee. “But that isn’t stopping you. The supplies in your studio, that back wall with a coat of fresh paint tell me that.” Jasper set the mug down. “You went out again last night.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Roman had dealt with his emotions the way he always did. He filled a pack and headed for the city. He drove around for an hour before returning to the house, where he blasted the back wall of his studio.
“Graffiti was always your go-to medium when you were stressed. What’s bugging you these days?”
Roman didn’t duck and parry with Jasper this time. “I like the adrenaline rush. It beats putting a fist through a wall.”
“You weren’t angry, Bobby Ray. You were burning up with jealousy. You didn’t like seeing Grace with another man.”
Roman wanted to deny it. “It’s none of my business who she’s with. She works for me. That’s it.”
“Why don’t you try getting to know Grace Moore as a person and not just an employee? I barely know the girl, and I like her.”
“She has more walls than I do.”
“All the more reason to find out what’s behind them. Just don’t bust through or try to climb over. Look for a gate. When you find it, knock; don’t pound.” He smiled slightly. “And wait.”
“I’ve never had to wait before.”
“If sex is the only thing you want, leave her alone. Grace isn’t the kind of girl who hooks up with a guy and won’t care when he walks away.”
The door of the guest cottage opened, and Grace came outside and walked over. “Good morning.” She smiled at Jasper. “I was hoping I wouldn’t miss you before you headed home.”
“I wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye.” He rose.
Roman stayed seated while Jasper gave Grace a fatherly hug. Since when had they gotten so chummy?
“It was nice meeting you, Jasper. I hope I’ll see you again.”
“You will.” He grinned over his shoulder at Roman. “Unless our friend moves again and leaves no forwarding address.”
They talked for a few minutes, and then Grace turned to go into the house. “I’d better get to work or the boss will fire me.”
Jasper looked at Roman with a raised brow. “And I’d better hit the road, or he won’t lay out the welcome mat next time.”
Roman followed them inside. Jasper headed for the guest room to collect his suitcase. Roman stood at the breakfast bar, watching Grace rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I was furious, but I’m over it.” She closed the dishwasher firmly and straightened. “Now that I know I live next door to a Peeping Tom, I’ll be more careful.”
“I wasn’t looking in your windows. You were standing right out in the open.”
“An apology would be nice.”
He’d never apologized to anyone in his life and wasn’t about to start now. “Let’s call it an error in judgment.”
She rolled her eyes and headed for the office.
After Jasper left, Roman had nothing to do. He didn’t feel like sketching or painting. When the phone rang, he made it an excuse to check in with Grace. She didn’t look at him standing in the doorway. She was still on the phone. Prince Charming? She glanced at him, wrote a quick note, and held it out. Talia. Do you want the numbers? He shrugged. “He’s right here.” She handed him the phone.
All his gallery paintings had sold. He’d have enough in savings to take a year off. Maybe that’d give him time to figure out what he wanted to do. “Thanks, Talia.”
Talia laughed. “Say that again. I’m not sure I heard right.”
“You heard me.” Roman ended the call and handed the phone back to Grace. “We had a good night.”
“Talia told me.” She had turned her chair and sat facing him. The phone rang again. Roman started to leave as she answered it, but she held up one finger. “That is odd. Here, you can ask him.” She held out the phone.
“What?”
“Talia says a police officer came to the show.”
Roman took the phone. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure,” Talia answered. “He asked a lot of questions.”
“About what?”
“You. He wasn’t asking anything that others haven’t asked before, but it felt more like an interrogation.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, pretending the conversation wasn’t anything important. “Probably habit. Did he buy anything?”
“He was interested in your painting of the blackbirds. He asked if I knew anything about the bird. I told him I wasn’t an ornithologist.”
Roman’s pulse kept climbing. He could feel the sweat breaking out. “When was this?”
“When you disappeared into the men’s room. I was going to introduce you, but he got a phone call. I didn’t see him after that. Is there something I should know?”
“About what?”
“You tell me.”
Roman forced a laugh. “I don’t have any outstanding warrants that I know about. Maybe he likes blackbirds. Did he make an offer for the painting?”
“Are you kidding? On a cop’s pay?” She’d sold it to a movie producer known for sci-fi films. The police officer was forgotten as she talked about several other important people she’d met.