Twilight

Instead, she had clung to the long-ago betrayal of a boy very much like those in Rick’s program. She had been trying to help him and his lawyer fight armed robbery charges he claimed had been unfairly brought. She had believed in him. Only after they had successfully fought off a conviction had she discovered he was guilty, that he had played on her sympathy and used her clever investigative skills to win his case.

Weeks later, released from jail, he had shot and killed another storekeeper in yet another robbery attempt. A scared sixteen-year-old boy had been his accomplice. He had been shot by police arriving at the scene. She had vowed right then never to trust her instincts again, never to trust vows of innocence and remorse from the very kind of boys Ken and Rick believed capable of change.

Had she put aside that vow and gone with Ken, would she have shared Rick’s belief that his teens were incapable of harming Ken? She doubted it. Her own experience would have warned against it.

In fact, she would have grabbed on to any possible motive, any possible suspect, just as she was doing now. She was too desperate for answers to exclude anyone on blind faith alone.

“What do these kids know about love?” she countered.

“Precious little,” Rick agreed. “But they experienced it with your husband. Ken showed them what it meant to be accepted unconditionally, to be forgiven. He taught them they were worthy of God’s love. Every one of them was blessed to have known him.” His gaze locked on hers. “And they knew that.”

Dana shuddered under that unwavering gaze. In his own way, Rick Sanchez was as fervent in his beliefs as Ken had been in his. She, to the contrary, believed in nothing anymore, not even in the generous, compassionate, forgiving God who had guided her husband.

Despite their opposing views of his boys, she couldn’t help being swayed just a little by Rick’s faith in them. “Okay, Mr. Sanchez. Say I were to take your word for the moment that no one connected to the program had anything to do with Ken’s death. Where would you start to look for answers?”

“Closer to home,” he said at once.

He said it with such quick certainty that she was startled. “What on earth does that mean? Surely you don’t think that I...?”

“Of course not. I was talking about the people Ken dealt with right here, in his own congregation, in his own community. He told me there was a faction who wanted him removed.”

Dana stared. “If there was, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“It had just come up. He didn’t want to worry you. He told me it was the sort of nuisance thing that arises every now and then. A few people don’t like the way their minister thinks, or they respond to some imagined slight. In Ken’s case, he suspected there were some who disapproved of his work with Yo, Amigo. They feared he was already dragging the gang problem into their backyard.”

It was easy enough to make the connection, then. “This came up after he brought Juan Jesus here to live with the Wilsons, didn’t it?” she asked.

Rick nodded. “That would be my guess.”

“But he is such a sweet young man. How could anybody fear him?” Kate demanded.

It was the first time she had said a word in so long that both Dana and Rick turned to stare at her. Rick smiled at the fiercely protective tone of voice. Obviously, all of her motherly instincts had been aroused. And unlike Dana, she hadn’t been a holdout, fighting Ken’s commitment to the kids in the barrio. She had gotten to know Juan Jesus and any of the others he had brought around from time to time. Kate’s soft heart hadn’t been touched by the kind of tragedy that had made Dana so terribly wary.

“Taken individually, most of our boys are just like Juan Jesus,” Rick responded. “They’re tough on the outside, but if you look beyond that, you find a scared, vulnerable kid. Put him in the right environment and he will flourish.”

“Put him in a gang, he becomes dangerous,” Dana pointed out.

“Yes,” he said. “Some do.”

“Most,” she countered.

He studied her intently, assessing her. “Would you have joined with the faction who felt threatened by Juan Jesus’s presence in the community?” Rick asked.

Dana didn’t like the immediate response that formed. She bit back the instinctive yes that formed in her gut. She and Ken had argued over that very subject more than once. They had argued about it again on the day he had died. She had wanted their boys to live in a safe environment. She hadn’t wanted outside influences to change their protected world. It was petty and selfish of her, but there it was. She was a mother first and she’d seen firsthand the very real danger that came with trusting a kid with a record.

Intellectually, she had understood that boys like Juan Jesus deserved a chance. Give them their chance, she had argued—just not here. Not here, where a failed experiment could be so terribly costly to their own children. She hadn’t realized there were others in the church who’d said the same thing.

Nor had she considered that such feelings might run hot enough to do harm. For a brief moment, with Rick’s knowing gaze studying her, she allowed herself to feel ashamed at her unwitting complicity with narrow-minded, hurtful people, who would have ruined her husband’s career out of fear.

“Would you?” Rick asked again.

“I would like to think I’m better than they are, more open-minded, fairer, but the truth is I had said many of the same things to Ken myself,” she confessed reluctantly.

“Dana, you hadn’t!” Kate protested.

Dana nodded. “Yes, I had. I didn’t want that kind of influence around my kids. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth, and you know why I feel that way. I’ve seen firsthand just how destructive an influence kids like that can be.”

Rick regarded her with disturbing intensity. He seemed to be weighing something.

“You know, Dana, I’ve changed my mind. I think the best place for you to start this investigation would be at Yo, Amigo,” he said eventually.

She stared at him in amazement, torn between gratitude and suspicion. “You’ll open the doors to me? Let me look at your files, talk to the kids?”

He nodded.

“Why? You said the answers weren’t there.”

“Maybe not to Ken’s murder,” he agreed. “But I think you might learn quite a lot about your husband.”

She found the suggestion that she hadn’t really known Ken to be insulting, but she couldn’t afford to turn down the offer. Once again, she and Rick Sanchez would be operating at cross-purposes. But whatever his motives in offering, she had to take advantage of the opportunity.

“I have no idea what made you change your mind, but thank you. I will be there first thing in the morning,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Why not now? You could come back with me.”

The prospect of being confined in a car with this man rattled her, but she could see the sense of taking him up on this offer, as well. Despite her determination to take whatever risks were necessary to get answers, there was no point in being foolhardy. Going into that neighborhood in broad daylight with Rick Sanchez as her escort made sense. His acceptance of her presence might smooth the way for her, might make others speak to her more openly.

“I’ll get my purse.”

“Just your keys,” he countered. “You won’t be needing your purse.”

“What if I get a hankering for something to eat?”

“I can afford to treat you to lunch, Dana. Dinner, too, for that matter.”

Something in his eyes, a flash of heat, a suggestion of sensuality, told her she would be wise to stay away from cozy meals for two with this man. He’d persuaded coldhearted politicians to part with city money for his pipe dream. He’d sweet-talked tough, streetwise kids out of their weapons. If he put his mind to it, would he be able to convince her to leave Yo, Amigo out of her investigation?

Hell would have to freeze over first, she vowed silently, her gaze clashing defiantly with his. To her regret, he looked amused, not intimidated.

He would learn, though. She vowed that he would discover very soon that Dana Miller was a formidable enemy.

5

Rick had regretted his impulsive offer to take Dana into Chicago the instant the words were uttered. Was he out of his mind to consider giving Dana Miller full access to Yo, Amigo? He’d seen no evidence of a kinder, gentler side to her. Yet for some reason, perhaps Ken’s frequently expressed faith in his wife’s essential goodness, Rick had to believe that her ingrained attitude of distrust wouldn’t come back to haunt him.

Still, what would the kids think when they realized she was there to investigate Ken’s death, when they saw that they were the target of her suspicions? It could unravel every shred of progress he’d made with them over the past couple of years. It could shatter their trust.

He couldn’t renege, though. One way or another, she would be underfoot, snooping. He owed it to Ken to keep Dana where he could watch over her, where he could protect her. Somehow he’d have to make the kids understand that.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as difficult as he imagined. They were bright. Maybe they would see how much pain Dana was in and would cut her some slack, especially if she managed to keep that tart tongue of hers in check. Maybe it would be a good lesson in tolerance for all of them.

And maybe they’d hang him for bringing the enemy into their midst, he thought wryly.

Oh, well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Dana was upstairs, probably tucking some sort of wire into her blouse and a gun into her back pocket, if he read her correctly. She might leave her purse at home, but she wasn’t about to go with him unprepared for her own style of battle. She had the determination of a pit bull. As angry as she was, she was also likely to be oblivious to real danger.

He glanced across the kitchen table to find Kate Jefferson studying him intently, a frown knitting her brow. “What?” he demanded.

“If you allow anyone to harm one hair on Dana’s head, I’ll come after you, personally,” she warned. She leaned closer and repeatedly jabbed a finger into his chest. “I may look like some sweet, innocuous, little suburban homebody to you, but nobody is more ferocious than a woman like me when someone we care about gets hurt.”

Because she sounded so serious, Rick held back the grin that threatened to emerge. “I don’t doubt it,” he said solemnly and fought the urge to rub the spot she’d been assaulting. He’d probably have a bruise there to match the one Dana had left on his cheek. “Believe it or not, I want her to find what she’s looking for.”

“Ken’s killer?”

“That,” he agreed, then added, “and peace of mind.”

Kate sighed heavily. “I’m afraid the last won’t come easily.”

“Where I come from, Mrs. Jefferson, very little comes easily.”

* * *

Rick’s car was old and battered and nondescript. The outside seemed to be held together mainly by beige paint and rust. It would be an unlikely target for young thieves, Dana concluded. Inside, however, it was immaculate, and it ran like the car of a man who tinkered possessively with its engine.

“How fast does it go?” Dana asked as they made their way into Chicago.

He slanted a look in her direction. “Fast enough. Why?”

“Just making small talk, Mr. Sanchez,” she said, mimicking his earlier claim. The truth was that a part of her wondered if he’d tuned it for quick getaways, but for once, she managed to keep the deliberate insult to herself. Somehow she had to find a way to meet the man halfway.

He glanced over at her. “Can’t you call me Rick?”

Dana debated before answering. That would mean taking one brick out of the wall of defenses she’d built between them. She wasn’t sure she dared risk it. Refusing, though, seemed churlish. Not that he had a particularly high impression of her, anyway, but she hated to add to the negatives. For the time being, she needed his cooperation and goodwill.

“I’ll try to remember,” she said eventually.

He seemed to be fighting a smile. “That’ll do,” he said, then added pointedly, “For now.”

Dana let that remark go unanswered. He was only trying to provoke her, a trait that obviously came naturally enough to him. Perhaps, if she failed to rise to the bait a few times, he’d give up and settle for the uneasy truce they’d reached. She still wasn’t exactly sure why he’d suddenly agreed to her meeting the kids at Yo, Amigo. Clearly he had a point of some sort to make.

As they neared the Yo, Amigo headquarters, the signage in the neighborhood was more frequently in Spanish than English. The taquerias, the bodegas, the promise that those inside spoke Spanish made Dana feel as if she’d unwittingly entered a foreign land. This world of immigrants, who clung to the past, to old ways and their old culture, seemed totally alien.

“Are most people here from Mexico?” she asked, her natural curiosity stirring.

“Most. Many are Cuban, a few from Central America.”

She nodded, absorbing that and the fact that in broad daylight, the streets seemed less menacing. Bundled up against the freezing wind and bitter cold of early March, people were simply going about their daily business, pausing only briefly to chat with neighbors, their breath visible in the icy air. Strains of rapidly spoken Spanish filtered through the car’s windows. Latin music blasted from passing boom boxes, the salsa beat cheerful and provocative.

It seemed so... She searched for the right word, then settled for normal. Except for the language, the street could have been any other ethnic neighborhood in Chicago, rich with color and surging with life. Where was the danger in this? she wondered.

“It changes at night,” Rick said quietly, once more displaying that uncanny knack for reading her mind. “These people stay inside after dark, even in summer. Kids aren’t allowed to play in the streets because of the threat—no, the certainty—of drive-by shootings. Children here see more violence up close than yours will see on TV. They’ll know it as a reality, as the loss of a brother or sister or a friend. It’s no way for a kid to grow up.”

Dana thought of Juan Jesus, whose presence in her neighborhood had stirred such controversy and wrath. As worried as she’d been about his influence on her kids and others, would she have wanted this life for him, instead? He was just a boy who’d already seen too much, experienced things no child should have to endure. Gazing around her, she gained a tiny bit of insight into Ken’s perspective.

And Rick’s, she conceded reluctantly.

Leaving her to her thoughts, he turned the corner into the alley behind Yo, Amigo. Dana recognized it. She had crept down it just the night before, staying in shadows, filled with determination and rage. She was calmer now, but no less determined.

Rick stopped the car just a few feet from the back door in a spot clearly marked as his by the scrawled name in bright yellow paint on the brick wall of the building. It was surrounded by fading graffiti. If she’d been paying attention, as she should have been the night before, would she have spotted his car there? She thought back carefully. She couldn’t summon a single image of any car being in the alley. Surely she would have noticed it and checked it out. Her skills weren’t that rusty.

“Where were you parked last night?”

He regarded her innocently. “You were in a very big hurry. Are you so certain I wasn’t right here?”

She thought about it once more, then nodded with more certainty. “I’m positive.”

“Very good,” he praised, though his tone was mocking. “Actually, I left the car at home and hitched a ride over.”

“Why?”

The question seemed to make him uncomfortable for some reason, so she asked it again.

“Because we’ve had a few problems.”

She could see that the admission cost him. “What sort of problems?”

“Unwelcome visitors,” he said tersely.

“Other than me?”

He smiled at that. “I wasn’t expecting you, at least not last night.”

“Truthfully, you weren’t expecting me at all, were you?”

“Your friend seemed all but certain you’d turn up here eventually.”

Dana persisted. “But you didn’t believe her, did you?”

“No,” he admitted. “At least, I didn’t think you’d have the guts to come creeping around here in the middle of the night, since you’d never been inclined to show up with Ken during the day.”

“I didn’t stay away out of fear,” she protested.

“Just disapproval,” he guessed.

She realized that in his eyes that was far, far worse. Compared with her compassionate husband, she had to seem cold and hardhearted. She didn’t want Rick’s opinion to matter, but oddly enough, it did. Even so, she refused to waste time right now trying to change it. Even if she’d explained about the boy she had once trusted, would he have understood? Or would he have said that was just one boy, that others shouldn’t be condemned for his mistakes? Ken had said that often enough, but it hadn’t swayed her. She hadn’t had his capacity for forgiveness or his willingness to risk a second, more dangerous betrayal.

Now, though, she needed to get inside, to start looking at files and talking to people. She had to do something, find at least one solid piece of the puzzle. The compulsion that had brought her back from Florida was stronger than ever. Once again, she had allowed Rick to deliberately distract her. She wondered how many more times she would come up against the tactic as he tried to protect his precious program.

“Are we going to go in or are we going to sit here all day analyzing my psyche?” she inquired testily.

“Analyzing your psyche might be fascinating,” he said. Before she could respond, he added, “But you’re clearly too impatient to get on with your agenda to cooperate.”

She reached for the door handle, but before she could open it, his hand closed over hers. The shock of his touch, the heat of it, stilled her. He waited until she turned to look at him before he said a word.

“One bit of caution—proceed slowly in there. If you go in like a private detective, they won’t talk.” His gaze locked with hers. “I’ve taken a huge gamble by bringing you here. I won’t let you hassle them.”

“You promised—” she began, only to be cut off.

“I promised to bring you here, to let you get to know what we’re all about. If you get answers as a result of that, fine. If you can’t live with that, I’ll take you back home right now.”

She didn’t like the rules. Nor was she certain how she would operate within them. “How will you explain me?”

For a moment he seemed to be weighing the alternatives. “I’m going to tell them who you are,” he replied eventually.

Her gaze narrowed. There was more. She could read it in his eyes. “And then what?”

He smiled. “And then I’m going to say that you’re here to take up where your husband left off.”

She stared at him, aghast by the suggestion—no, the command—that she was going to become a part of the Yo, Amigo program in some way. She felt manipulated, though no doubt the signs of his intentions had been there from the moment he uttered his invitation.

“I can’t do that,” she protested.

“You will do that,” he corrected, then added more gently, “It’s the only way to find the answers you’re after. You’ll have to blend in, become one of us.”

“I don’t shoot hoops,” she grumbled.

“Then tutor them in reading, teach the girls to sew. We have a kitchen here. You can teach them to cook. It won’t matter what you do. It’ll matter more that you’re here.”

Dana didn’t like the gender-based suggestions. More importantly, she wanted to move her investigation along far faster than the snail’s pace he was suggesting. And yet, she conceded reluctantly, she could see the sense of what he was saying. She knew just how distrustful these toughened street kids were likely to be. If she came on too forcefully, demanded too much, they would walk away without a backward glance.

But Rick’s way would also risk getting involved, putting her emotions on the line. She didn’t want to know these ex–gang members. She didn’t want to take a chance that she might actually come to feel something for them as Ken had felt.

No, she didn’t like his plan at all, but she would do as he was demanding. She could tell from his unrelenting expression that he wasn’t giving her a choice.

“Let’s go,” she said through gritted teeth.

This time he didn’t try to stop her from getting out of the car. But when they reached the door that she had used the night before, he blocked her way. Once again, she felt the power of his presence, the heat of his body, his taut strength.

“If you find out anything, anything at all, you will tell me about it first,” he said, his gaze locked with hers.

“You told me I wouldn’t find anything here,” she taunted.

“I don’t believe you will, but there’s always an outside chance I’m wrong. I don’t want you tearing off half-cocked and getting yourself killed.”

“Why? You’d be rid of a serious thorn in your side.”

“No,” he corrected. “I’d have one more death on my conscience. Ken’s already keeps me awake at night.”

There was just enough torment in his voice that Dana had no choice but to believe him. She knew all about that kind of guilt and anguish. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep herself since the murder.

Even so, she was far from ready to forgive him, even further from being willing to trust him. He was a means to an end at the moment. He was giving her entry into a world that she might never have been able to penetrate on her own. She would use him, as he had used Ken. If she destroyed him and Yo, Amigo in the process, it still wouldn’t be enough to compensate for the loss of her husband.

6

Apparently it was too early in the day for a big crowd. Inside the Yo, Amigo headquarters, Dana spotted only a handful of boys and even fewer girls. Perhaps it was part of Rick’s tactic to bring her here when there would be only a few people to talk to.

But it was a starting point, she reminded herself sternly, and, right now that was all she needed.

She watched as Rick strolled through the cavernous building with the confidence of a man who was in charge. She overheard him tease and taunt in a surprisingly lighthearted manner, saw the playful exchange of punches and handclasps. There was respect here and trust.

There was none of that in the hard, cold gazes that turned on her. She was eyed with obvious suspicion. Even when Rick explained, first in quiet Spanish, then in English, who she was, there was only the slightest softening of attitudes, the faintest mellowing of distrust.

The boy Rick had called Marco was the first to speak directly to her. With chiseled features and thick black hair, he had classic good looks, plus plenty of attitude. He surveyed her with an insolent, assessing gaze, then muttered something in Spanish that had his friends chuckling, until a stern look from Rick cut them off. He spoke sharply to them in such rapid Spanish that Dana caught only an occasional word, and even then, her long-ago lessons in the language failed her.

Whatever he’d said, though, seemed to alter the charged atmosphere. First one girl and then another smiled and shyly introduced herself. There was Rosa with the huge dark eyes and curly hair and the thickening waistline of pregnancy. Then came Ileana, with the tattoo of a scorpion on her wrist and half her head shaved. Dana forced herself not to react to the eccentricities, but to the hesitant welcome in their eyes.

There were more, but Dana knew she would never keep the names straight and apologized for it. She added in faltering Spanish that she was glad to be there, glad to meet them.

Her attempt to speak their language gained her another grudging point or two. She could see the first vague hint of acceptance in their eyes. She knew, though, that it was only a beginning. There would be many more steps before she could ask the questions that plagued her, that much was clear. One wrong step and the distrust would return, stronger than ever.