Free A Touch of Grace by Linda Goodnight

drug hangouts back in here.” He made a left-hand turn, taking them deeper into the belly of the Quarter. “We’ll check those first.”
    He didn’t bother to tell her that he had a couple of specific kids in mind tonight. Kids that worried him because they were so close to the edge. Any day now they’d fall over into the cesspool of drugs, prostitution, crime.
    “Crack houses? Oh, goodie.” The sarcasm was not lost on Ian.

    “Want me to take you home?” They rumbled past a row of bars, a voodoo shop, a sidewalk café.
    She grinned at him. “You wish.”
    Yes, he did. And for more reasons than the news story. Tonight at the mission when she was unaware, he’d watched her serve up beans and franks. He’d watched her chatting with the guests as if they came from the upper crust. He’d watched her interact with the in-house kids at the mission. The barracuda attitude she took with him disappeared every time, replaced by kindness, even friendliness.
    She was nice to others, but not him. Though he was working on the issue, one of his great failings was the need for approval—even from suspicious news reporters.
    “So, who won the race?” he asked, remembering the tickets she’s been so thrilled about the day he’d confronted her at the news station.
    “Pardon me?”
    “Bigfoot or Grave Digger?”
    “Oh, the monster trucks.” She twisted sideways in the seat to face him, her expression animated. “Neither, but the show was awesome. We had a great time. Have you ever been?”
    Gaze scanning the sidewalks, he nodded. “The noise was deafening in a good kind of way.” But not, as his dad had reminded him, any more deafening than the music he listened to.
    “Yeah.” She savored the word, grinning like a kid. “I love the noise.”
    “What about the guy at the station? Did he go, too?” He didn’t know why he’d asked that.

    “David? Oh, yes. He’s a big truck fan.” She laughed at the play on words. “I mean, he’s an avid fan of big trucks…like me.”
    Another question was on Ian’s tongue, but he drew the line at asking if David was her boyfriend. Her personal life was not his business. He wasn’t even sure he liked the woman, and he knew she would skewer him on the six o’clock news at the drop of a hat. Thinking personal thoughts just showed how tired and overworked he was.
    Although the curious question lingered, he clamped his mouth shut and drove in silence for a few blocks as he scoured the streets for a familiar face. If Gretchen noticed how quickly he’d ended the conversation, she said nothing.
    They neared an intersection, and Gretchen pointed out the side window. “Look, the Tin Man.”
    At the apt description of the street performer, Ian smiled. On the corner, a man painted all in silver from head to toe had drawn a small crowd with his bizarre looks and accordion music. Beside him, a boy no more than eight tap-danced to the energetic rhythm while onlookers filled their box with change and dollar bills.
    “Want to stop and listen for a while?”
    She glanced at him, the green eyes catlike in the dimness. “I thought we were on the lookout for people in need.”
    “We are.”
    She thought about that for a minute before saying, “Do whatever you normally would do. I’m only the tagalong.”
    Ian edged the van to the curb. They couldn’t stay long without a legal parking place and those were hard to find.

    After he turned the key off the engine chugged for several more seconds.
    “Sounds like your van is sick,” Gretchen said as she shoved her shoulder against the sticking passenger door.
    “Nah. She just didn’t want to stop here.” His humor was rewarded with a smile.
    “Your van is a she?”
    “Gotta be.” He gave his head a sad shake. “She has a mind of her own, and she’s way too complicated for a mere man to figure out.”
    This time Gretchen giggled.
    A giggle? From Barracuda Barker? He didn’t know she had it in her. And to tell the truth, he liked the