A Season For Family. Mae Nunn
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dishes.” Heath reached for more dirty flatware and slid spoons and forks into the sudsy water while keeping his gaze away from the intensity of Olivia’s oh-so-lovely eyes. “But I want to say up front that requiring me to listen to Bible study will be about as effective as forcing me to do community service. Neither one can rehabilitate the person I am inside.”
A hand rested lightly on his shoulder. His already tense muscles stiffened more.
“Is it being stuck here that’s got you keyed up or are you angry at the world in general?”
“Is submitting to therapy also a requirement of your program?” He glanced at the spot where her fingers touched him, warming the flesh beneath the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt.
Olivia pulled her hand away. She reached for another dish and continued to help in spite of his rudeness.
“May I ask what kind of work you do in Austin?”
“Government security.” He began to spin a fresh web of lies, making up his story as he went along. Saying whatever it took to get her to drop her guard.
“Will you lose your job over this?”
It was natural for Heath to examine the motives behind questions. Did this lady really care what happened to him? Could her ministry to this captive audience be sincere, or was this God business just a more intricate cover than the average dope dealer bothered to set up? A loyal daughter would go to a lot of trouble to protect her father, even if he didn’t deserve it.
Heath turned his head, his eyes searching hers. He smiled to mask his suspicions.
“One of Waco’s city officials is the brother of my boss. He challenged me to hack into their Intranet just to stick it to his brother. I actually did the city a favor by pointing out the weakness in their network, but the mayor didn’t see it that way. Even though I didn’t access anything confidential, Judge Wapner still threw the book at me. I covered for my boss and he’s letting me use vacation time till I get home.”
“Do you have family in Austin?”
“Nope.” Heath said the word like punctuation to end the prying.
Olivia caught the hint, knew he was telling her to back off, but she kept pressing. “So it was a security job that drew you to our state capital?”
If this guy thought she’d go away easily, he had another think coming. People were her life’s work. Each one had a story worth telling and most needed somebody to listen. Maybe if she’d been tuned in to her father, she’d have recognized the signs of trouble, spotted the depth of his deception before it was too late.
But she’d barely been nineteen back then. He’d run like a coward and left her alone to face the enormity of his white collar crime. His disgraceful departure devastated Olivia. He left her with nothing but the landmark family home that was her late mother’s inheritance, Olivia’s birthright. Selling off the antiques kept the taxes paid and the water turned on, but little more. Once the place was nearly empty, it only made sense to let the property go and use what funds were left to do something positive to restore the Wyatt name by giving back to the community her father had swindled.
Some citizens had objected to another mission, even complained that it encouraged transients to frequent the area. Olivia would not be distracted by opposition, since she realized from her first volunteer experience that she was called to witness to the homeless. Or nonbelievers like the one standing before her now with his rubber gloves fisted on his hips.
“Is this an interview?” Even while he was glaring and demanding an answer, the man was a pleasant sight. His lean arms pulled the sleeves of his black T-shirt tight against a solid chest. “Or are you just nosy with everybody?”
“Pretty much everybody, but especially with the ones I allow to hang around for a while,” she said, a reminder that she had every right to ask a few questions. “Some of your answers would already be in writing for me if you’d had time to fill out the paperwork. How about if I empty out that sink while you take a break and get those forms completed.”
The glare of his eyes softened, the set of his jaw seemed to relax and his head tilted ever so slightly as if he were sizing her up. He turned back to the sink and resumed his attack on the white stoneware.
“If you get a nonnegotiable, then so do I.”
Olivia detected a hint of humor in his words.
“And what would that be?”
“I don’t shy away from hard work. I pull my own weight, especially in the service of a lovely lady.”
She hadn’t thought of herself as a lady in quite a long time, let alone one who was lovely. Humility was a free by-product of dressing in cast-off clothes.
“I never argue with a man who wants to do his part.” She sidestepped the compliment. People were generally grateful when you took them in, so it was her practice not to read too much into flattery.
“Miss Livvy, a toilet in the women’s lavatory is overflowin’ like the Brazos in rainy season.” Velma stood in the doorway with a mop in one hand and a janitor’s bucket at her side.
“Not again,” Olivia groaned. “The plumber promised it was fixed.”
“I already shut the pipes off, but I could use some help to clean up the water.”
“I got it.” Heath made a beeline for Velma and relieved her of the mop. “Point the way.”
“Just follow the stream.” She glanced at the wet tile floor. “It’ll lead you straight to the source.”
“You get the ladies out?”
“Sure did.”
“Can you wait by the door till I give the all-clear signal? We wouldn’t want anybody to slip and fall.”
“I got you covered, sugar cookie.” Velma winked at Olivia before she hurried after Heath.
Olivia offered up a prayer of thanks for having another pair of strong hands for a while, whether he was a willing volunteer or not. He hadn’t hesitated to take charge of cleanup in the ladies’ room, a place most guys wouldn’t go if their lives depended on it. He even made it a one-man job, so maybe that would get a thumbs-up from Amos. Staff relationships were important in close quarters.
She’d been exposed to a lot of unhappy people in her life and Heath had a thorn in his paw, for sure. If she had to make an educated guess, she’d say it had more to do with how he felt about himself than how he felt about the world around him.
According to Detective Biddle, Heath had thought about it for a while before choosing Table of Hope for his community service. She understood his reluctance to move into a shelter. Lots of people break the law intentionally, but very few associate with homeless folks by choice. A mission wasn’t exactly one step up from a labor camp and serving others shouldn’t be considered as a form of punishment.
Still, she’d gone along with the arrangement because it was nice to know Waco’s finest were aware and keeping an eye on activity at the shelter. There was a modicum of comfort in knowing that she wasn’t totally on her own when the lights went out each night. With so few trustworthy men in her life, the cops were high on her short list.
Chapter Three
A quick search of the women’s hot pink locker room for evidence to pin on Olivia Wyatt left Heath empty-handed. But he really hadn’t expected to find anything incriminating, at least not that easily. So he tackled the wet floor, pushing and pulling the industrial-size mop across the linoleum, pausing every few sloppy strokes to squeeze the head in the wringer attached to the bucket. As he worked, he mulled over his situation. For some reason he felt even more bent out of shape than usual.
“What’s your problem, Stone?” he grumbled aloud. “Just do the drill and get out. This assignment is a cake-walk compared to the last one.”
Five