Charlie left while Irma was still dealing with the cops, and drove Julio back to the community center. Julio stared silently out the window, too spooked by all that had just gone down to play the sullen teen. Charlie’s entire perspective regarding Julio had undergone a dramatic change. He now saw a kid doing his dead-level best to stay straight. No home life to speak of, the whole world against him, and surfing was the only thing he could claim as his own.
Charlie asked, “Where are you bunking?”
“Irma said the community center’s caretaker cottage is empty. I can use that for a while.”
Charlie knew the place, a fifties-era cottage on the parking lot’s far end. As far as he was concerned, the place held all the charm of a juvie center. He turned down a side street and replied, “Let’s see if we can’t find you a better place to chill.”
He drove the Land Rover down streets he had known since childhood. He was repeatedly struck by lightning images—Gabriella driving them south, the attack, meeting her team, the procedure, waking up that morning, his final conversation with her. He tasted the salt-laced breeze through his open window and heard Gabriella utter the words again. My dark knight. There was no reason why he would shiver from the memory of her soft voice. He was a professional guardian. He had protected people in some of the world’s most dangerous conflicts. He was certain he could handle whatever Gabriella’s situation would toss his way. But no matter how often he repeated the words, he could not bring himself to accept that this was just another job.
Charlie pulled into his drive and said, “I want to show you something.”
Julio followed him around the garage and up the side stairs, looking confused, uncertain. Charlie unlocked the door and said, “My old man and I never got along. So when I came back from the Army, I tore out what probably had once been a maid’s apartment and turned this into a place I could call home. Then I ended up getting married, and I moved with my wife back to her home in LA. I don’t think I’ve spent more than a couple of weeks total up here.”
The single room was sixty-five feet long and forty wide. The cathedral ceiling was laced with heavy beams that were pegged into the walnut side-panels. The floor was heart of pine, the furniture sparse, the rear wall a tall glass triangle. A kitchenette fitted the corner where the stairs opened. A trio of sliding doors hid a pantry, closet, and bath.
Charlie saw how Julio stared at the room, his shoulders hunched slightly, and asked, “How’d you like to move in?”
The kid blinked hard. “You mean it?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
“I won’t be any trouble. I swear.”
Charlie wanted to say something about how impressed he was, how he didn’t know if he would have had the strength to emerge intact from the kid’s hellish home life. But Julio was already struggling to hold on to control. So he just cuffed the kid’s shoulder and said, “I’m sure of that.”
Then the telephone rang, startling them both.
Charlie walked over to where the old-fashioned apparatus was screwed into the wall beside the pantry door. “This is Hazard.”
The voice was male and flinty from thirty-five years of battlefield command. “You and I need to discuss a new prospect.”
Charlie came to full alert, the only way to handle this particular caller. “I’m officially on leave for another three weeks, General Strang.”
“Negative on that, mister. I am inbound for Melbourne airport, wheels down in forty minutes. Be planeside or you’re history.”
Charlie took his time hanging up the phone. When he turned around, Julio asked, “You okay?”
“That was my boss. I may be going away for a while. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Buy what you need.”
Julio raised his hands and backed away. “No, look. I got the job now, I can—”
“Julio. Look at me. Take the money.”
Reluctantly he accepted the bills. “This is too much.”
Charlie felt better than he had for a long time. “Welcome to your new home.”