The Sign Painter Read online

  The sign painter. The stranger. The woman living in a camper.

  The nightmare flashed behind her wide-open eyes. The cops. The court. The cold-faced people taking away her little girl. Her life crashing down around her.

  All the fears she had tried her best to pray away from them both, all the threats to their meager and fragile world, all of it bundled together and filled her with molten dread.

  Amy was up and moving before she had worked through what was happening. She dumped the contents of her backpack on the sidewalk, the brushes and tins of paint clattering as they fell. Then she ran.

  The cleaners backed up in alarm as she rushed up. The guard, however, just glanced over. He was tired, and it was coming up to the end of another long and empty shift. Amy said, “Can I use the little girl’s room?”

  The guard finished unlocking the main doors and said, “Five minutes.”

  “Less,” Amy promised. But to her dismay, she realized the ladies’ room was on the opposite side of the showroom from the desk. She fiddled around inside the ladies’ room for a moment, hopping from foot to foot, desperately searching for a reason to get over there.

  When she emerged, she saw where a doorway on the showroom’s other side opened into a staff canteen. Amy scurried back over to where the guard waited. He was leaning against the door, half asleep, which she took as a good sign. She gave him her number one smile and said, “Mind if I get a cup of water?”

  The smile must have worked, for he said, “Knock yourself out.”

  “Thanks.” She rushed away. The kitchenette held a table and a punchboard and a cupboard and a fridge. Amy unzipped her backpack and took a trio of very hard breaths. She poised inside the room for an instant, like a runner getting ready for the starting gun. She shot a quick glance around the doorway. The cleaners were singing from some back office, and the guard had his back pressed against the door, his cap pushed down over his eyes.

  Her heart in her mouth, Amy scampered toward the desk. Her rubber soles squeaked so loudly on the polished stone floor that she feared the whole world would hear. She reached under the papers and snagged the bills and jammed them into her pack. One packet, two, three, four, then a fifth. She fumbled with the zipper, then made sure the papers were in more or less the same state as when she’d arrived.

  She flew back to the entrance. “Thanks. That’s a thousand percent better.”

  “No problem.”

  She went back over to her workstation and started gathering up her paints. Her hands shook so hard that she spilled the blue and the indigo over the pavement. She did her best to wipe it up but in the end decided it would have to wait.

  She had to get out of there.

  CHAPTER 7

  Amy got hardly any sleep. She woke Kimmie at five fifteen and dressed her as she would a limp doll. Kimberly had grown used to unusual hours and put up with the treatment with a few soft whimpers. Amy poured a bowlful of Sugar Puffs, which she fed to Kimmie one spoonful at a time, sipping her coffee in between bites. She showered and dressed in her last set of clean clothes. She needed to do some washing. The studio apartment shared a laundry with the other units, a treasure that Amy intended to enjoy as soon as she had a free moment.

  Unless, of course, they ended up getting kicked out this morning. The fear was so great that Amy had to fight against tremors just to lock her door.

  Lucy was there when she entered the center. She took one look at Amy and said, “You did right, calling me.”

  “I didn’t know where else to turn. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. My number is there on the forms for a reason.”

  “Still, as hard as you work—”

  “Amy, look at me,” Lucy said sternly. “Yesterday you asked if I was your friend. This is my answer.”

  She used the hand not holding Kimmie to cover her eyes. “I’m so scared.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I’ve been praying for a chance to give Kimmie a home for nineteen months. The harder I’ve prayed, the further we’ve gotten from that. Now you give us a place, and what happens—”

  “But you are faced with an impossible situation. And you did the right thing. You came to people who are joined with you in the Spirit.”

  Kimmie’s sleepy voice said, “Mommy, why are you crying?”

  Amy wiped her face. “Mommy is tired, honey. But it’s okay. We have friends to help us.”

  “That’s right, you do.” Lucy reached out. “Give me the angel and go clean your face. We’re on in ten minutes.”

  When Amy returned from the washroom, she found the retired cop in Lucy’s office. The previous night, when Amy had phoned Lucy for help, the center director had told Amy she needed to bring in Granville Burnes, their head of security. Amy had been so tired and so frantic that she had not objected. But seeing Granville standing by the doorway, hearing his rumbling voice echoing through the glass wall, caused Amy’s fear to notch up even higher. No one knew police officers like a homeless person. The risks she had faced, the terror she had known over having Kimmie taken from her, remained branded upon her soul.

  Granville Burnes was talking, and Lucy was frowning at the fed seated in the vacant office next door. Lucy spotted Amy and waved her inside. Reluctantly, Amy switched her little girl to the other hip and entered, her eyes nailed to the floor by her feet.

  Lucy greeted her, then said to Granville, “Explain to me what Travers is doing here.”

  “I told you. We’ve been on foot patrol.”

  “That tells me precisely nothing. Kimmie, have you had breakfast?”

  “Mommy fed me,” Kimberly announced.

  “I’m sure she did, honey. Your mommy takes good care of you, doesn’t she? If only she did the same for herself.” Lucy opened her lower drawer. “Does your mommy like peanut butter as much as you do?”

  Amy said, “I’m not hungry.”

  “Hush up, now, and eat this. You’re pale as a sheet, and I bet you didn’t sleep any. Sit down over there.” Lucy glared Amy into the chair, then turned her ire back to Granville. “I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

  The big man was untouched by Lucy’s irritation. “I don’t know what good Paul Travers can do. But I like him.”

  Lucy leaned back in her chair. “This from the man who said we were probably foolish, bringing in an outsider.”

  “Won’t be the first time I was wrong.” He hooked a thumb back at the guy lounging in the empty office. “Travers spent hours on the phone. Talking to one suit after another. Getting more riled by the minute. When I asked him what he was doing, he said pushing against the Washington mountain and remembering what he hated about the system. Around nine last night, I dropped him off at his motel. He asked if I could pick him up at four. Like we were partners working a case. No concern for the hour. Just going after what needs getting done.”

  Lucy crossed her arms and studied the man through the connecting glass wall. Amy peeled a fragment from the cereal bar and risked a glance. Paul Travers had sprawled out on a lumpy old sofa with his head on the frayed armrest. If he noticed their inspection, he gave no sign. His knit shirt was stretched taut over a muscled frame. He had a small scar on his neck and another above his eyebrow. His hair was dark, his expression stern.

  Lucy said, “He told me yesterday that he saw action in Baltimore. I’ve heard it’s a pretty tough place.”

  Granville kept his gaze on Lucy. “When I asked him about it, he said the only results that counted were the ones in this case.”

  Lucy liked that, Amy could tell. “So you went on patrol. At four in the morning.”

  “Paul wants to establish a security perimeter around the church. He wants it to be in place when the bad guys wake up. He wants them to waltz over and find us waiting for them. He’s downloaded a detailed map of the area and drawn this circle around our church. In three d
ays, he wants to move out another block. Three days more, another block.”

  “Cleaning up as you go,” Lucy said. “You have the manpower?”

  “I called in some friends. Counting the church security, we’re fourteen. Enough to work around the clock. At least for a while.” Granville glanced through the glass wall. “I should have thought of this myself.”

  “What happens next?”

  “He’s got something in mind. Something big. But he won’t tell me—”

  Granville stopped because his pocket started buzzing. He pulled out his phone, checked the readout, said, “It’s Bob Denton.”

  Amy pressed a hand to her stomach. She wished she had not eaten. She felt nauseated. And cold. And sweaty. All at the same time.

  As Granville answered his phone, Lucy murmured, “Steady, girl.”

  Granville cut the connection. “Bob’s outside.”

  Lucy shifted Kimmie so she could reach out both hands. “Let’s take this to the Lord.”

  CHAPTER 8

  They dropped Kimmie off at day care and moved over to the conference room. Paul Travers rose to his feet as they passed the office where he waited. He solemnly accepted Lucy’s thanks for his efforts, then excused himself to go make another round of the perimeter. He had a soft voice, but Amy heard the underlying strength, and it caused her to shiver in fear. Or perhaps it was just the prospect of what was about to come.

  “Bob Denton has been in a Bible study with Granville for years,” Lucy said once they were seated at the conference table. “Bob also helped finance the apartments where you’re living. He sits on the board of my center. I’ve known him as long as I’ve been in this position, which is longer than I care to remember.”

  Amy knew the center director was just filling the empty air and wished she could think of something to say, some way to make it all go away.

  “Look at me, girl.” When Amy raised her gaze, Lucy went on, “You haven’t done anything wrong. I know you’re scared. But we are all friends. Including Bob Denton.”

  “I need this job,” Amy whispered.

  “That is not—” Lucy focused on something beyond Amy’s shoulder. “Here they come.”

  Bob Denton looked somehow different here, in the church. His ruddy complexion was much clearer in the cheap fluorescent lighting. He wore the same jacket as yesterday, one shade off navy, with gray pants and a pale blue shirt and striped silk tie. He was neat and tall and lean, with short gray hair that looked carefully trimmed. His eyes were somewhere between gray and blue. Amy found it easier to look at him when he wasn’t gaping at her. Now he was the one who looked confused and uncertain.

  Once again, she found herself calming down. As though something about the man granted her the ability to set aside her normal nerves. She had never considered herself an anxious person. But nineteen months on the street had changed her in many different ways, none of them welcome.

  “Good morning, Bob. You know Amy Dowell.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  “Please have a seat. We have a serious matter to discuss with you.”

  Bob Denton looked as if he wanted to object, but Granville kept a hand on his shoulder and guided him into a seat. Denton protested, “Look, you’ve got to understand, I didn’t mean anything untoward by what I said.”

  Granville and Lucy shared a look of utter confusion.

  Bob went on, “I just asked the lady out for a meal. You folks know me. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything wrong.”

  Granville’s face creased in an odd manner, and Amy realized he was holding back a grin. Lucy said quietly, “That’s not why we’re here, Bob. And nothing is wrong, at least nothing like that. We’re not here to complain about anything. We’re here to help you.”

  Bob looked from one to the other. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, Amy.”

  Amy opened her pack and pulled out the first bundle of cash. She hated how her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “This is yours.”

  He reached over and fumbled with the bills. “What—”

  “It’s all there,” Amy said as she laid the other four bundles on the table between them. “Every dime.”

  “Tell him what happened,” Lucy said.

  So she did. About working on the window and spying the money on the salesman’s desk. And being fearful that the cleaners or the security guy would take it and she’d be blamed. And going inside while the cleaners were there, grabbing the money, and coming back and phoning Lucy. Twice she had to stop and swallow hard against the nausea and the fear.

  When she was finally done, Lucy asked, “Did you count the money?”

  Amy nodded, suddenly ashamed by the act. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “How much is there?”

  “Four hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars.”

  “Have you ever held so much cash before?”

  “No.”

  Lucy turned to the dumbstruck Bob Denton and said, “Yesterday I was handling the breakfast counter because our normal lady called in sick. In my quiet time before coming into work, I had the very strong impression that something special was going to happen. Something that would rock my world. That probably sounds silly to you, Bob, but that’s how it felt. Like God whispered the words into my ear. Someone is going to come in today and tilt my world on its axis.”

  “No,” Bob murmured. “It doesn’t sound silly at all.”

  “So up pops this beautiful young woman with the sweetest little girl in her arms. She’s the one you hear singing over in day care. If a child was ever born to sing, it’s Kimberly. And I knew, the first instant I set eyes on the two of them, that these were the people God had in mind.

  “So I talk to them, and I learn they’ve been living rough for over a year and a half. Just the two of them. Clinging to what was left of their family, and clinging to their faith. Over my breakfast talk, I saw her study from my favorite kind of Bible, well worn and filled with underlined passages and scribbling. A Bible used for holding fast to God, even when life had thrown her one hard curve after another. We talked, and I hear she’s got a job painting your windows. So I offered her one of our apartments. The same apartments you helped us build. I knew doing this went against the codes you helped us write. About how we had to restrict these places to people we’d gotten to know, or who were referred to us by people we trusted. I had planned to phone you today, after you’d had a chance to meet this woman yourself. I needed to tell you what I’d done, how I’d broken the code I signed my name to, and ask your permission. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Bob took a long moment to respond. “You’re asking my permission to give Amy an apartment?”

  “I am. Yes.”

  “Is this a joke? Of course I agree. After . . .” He turned toward her. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You’re welcome.” To her own ears, Amy’s voice sounded as small as Kimmie’s.

  “Look, I’m in a state of shock, but we’ve got to do something more to thank you.”

  Lucy said, “What the lady needs most of all right now is a regular job.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “With benefits,” Lucy added.

  “No problem. I’ll make some calls. Happy to.”

  They chatted for another few moments, Lucy and Bob and Granville. Amy did not speak again. She kept her gaze on the table by her fingers and reveled in what she had just heard. That Bob Denton was going to keep her on as the sign painter. And perhaps help her find employment. And she and Kimmie could stay in the apartment. All of these bits of good news swirled and coalesced inside her mind and heart. They formed a song, as light and happy as what Kimberly was singing in the next room.

  Bob took his leave, thanking Amy again as he left. Granville walked out with him. Amy said, “I better go get ready for work.”


  “First you and your little girl are joining me for breakfast. No, don’t you say a word. I can’t make you sleep, but I can make sure you have some hot food.”

  Amy entered the main day-care room and collected her daughter, glad to have someone to hug. As they entered the hallway, Granville returned and announced, “Bob wanted to make sure it was okay to offer you a reward.”

  “No . . . I have a place to stay, and he said he’d help me get a job . . .”

  “Say yes,” Lucy said. She shared Granville’s smile.

  The former cop pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket. “I believe this is yours.”

  Amy could not make her hand reach forward.

  Lucy asked, “How much is it?”

  “Two thousand dollars.”

  “Go on, girl, take the money.” Lucy reached forward and brought Amy’s hand up, clearly enjoying herself enormously.

  “So much,” Amy murmured. Her whole body felt numb.

  “You earned it. Now, come on, I’m starving.” Lucy shooed them down the corridor. “Nothing like glad tidings to work up an appetite. Granville, you joining us?”

  “Nah, I better go make sure Travers is staying out of trouble.” He grinned at Kimberly. “That’s my good deed for the month. Tomorrow I go back to being the same old grouch.”

  “He means it,” Lucy said.

  Amy followed the two of them down the hall. Kimmie kept singing in her ear, as though giving voice to her own joy. But underneath it all was the one unspoken detail. The same fact that had robbed Amy’s night of sleep. The one truth that would change everything, wipe away their grins, turn the whole thing sour. And she knew she had to tell them.

  Just not yet.

  CHAPTER 9

  The salesman who had left the cash on his desk was named Drew. He was the flashy young dresser who had tried to hit on her. Less than half an hour after Amy arrived from the meeting at the church, Drew rammed his Camaro GT into the parking lot and raced into the building. He flung the papers around on his desk, then released a silent scream to the showroom’s ceiling.