Roman didn’t, but he knew who the man was.
Roman limped toward him, the backpack held tightly in one hand. He could use it as a weapon. “You’re the cop who was asking questions.”
“The flock of blackbirds you painted gave you away. My wife keeps an eye on what’s happening in the local art world, and she’s been interested in you. She’s the one who received the brochure from the gallery in Laguna Beach. The minute I saw that painting, I knew I had you.”
“Is that so?”
“Think you can get past me? Outrun me? I don’t think so. Not with an injured leg.”
The man stood taller than Roman, with broader shoulders. He’d know how to block a blow and take a man down.
Roman knew he was facing jail time. Assaulting a cop would just add more. “Okay.” He shouldered the backpack. He’d pushed his luck for years. Tonight, it had run out. “Let’s go.” He could imagine the headlines. He could imagine Grace’s shock and disappointment, and Jasper’s and the Mastersons’。 What would they think of him? Part of him was relieved it was over. The other part wanted to run. Problem was, he couldn’t run fast enough.
The cop stood aside. They didn’t speak as they walked. “LAPD has a file on your work. I’ve done some digging on Roman Velasco. Not your real name.” He knew about Bobby Ray Dean. He knew about Sheila Dean and how she died. He even knew a few details about Roman’s European activities. “You’ve been building a reputation for yourself.”
Roman tripped and uttered a soft curse as pain shot up his leg. He stopped and bent over to rub his knotted calf.
“Have you had your leg checked out?”
“Yeah. It’s not going away.”
“Got your wings clipped. Surprised me when you picked a tunnel. You’ve always liked heaven spots. Is that how you injured yourself?”
“No.” Roman glanced at him, curious. “What do you know about heaven spots?”
“Did a little graffiti in my time. Not like yours. Bubble letters. Sloppy. Pointless.” He laughed low. “You’re something of a legend, you know?”
“I get buffed just like everyone else.”
“That last piece, across from the bank. It’s still there.” He chuckled. “I dropped in at the restaurant in that building, asked about it. The proprietor takes great pride in having the Bird’s work on his wall.”
Roman felt a flicker of pride and then the heavy weight of regret that he hadn’t quit before ruining everything he’d hoped to gain. “You’ll get a lot of street cred for netting the Bird.”
“I’ve thought about that many times.”
The squad car came into view, parked at the curb. At least the cop hadn’t cuffed him. Roman thought about running again. But where would he go? The officer knew who he was, where he lived. Roman opened the door, tossed his pack onto the seat, and slid in. Leaning his head back, he uttered a soft curse. He had only himself to blame. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain in his leg to ease.
It wasn’t the long drive Roman expected. The cop pulled into the supermarket parking lot and stopped next to Roman’s car. Roman stared at him in the rearview mirror. The cop smiled slightly.
“I was off duty. Was picking up a few things on the way home.” He turned and looked at Roman. “The Bird is done flying, isn’t he?”
Roman had forgotten to sign the piece in the tunnel. He wouldn’t be going back to lay claim to it. “Yeah. He’s done.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Dean.” He got out and opened the door for Roman.
“Thanks.” Roman grasped his backpack and slid out. The police car pulled away.
Another second chance.
Grace had been nervous since Brian called, asking if he could bring takeout for dinner so they could talk. Did he want their relationship to become more serious? Her friends thought he was the perfect man for her. And Brian did have all the character attributes she wanted. He was a man of faith, kind, considerate, employed. She’d never felt the flutter of physical attraction, but as Brian had pointed out, friendship was a good foundation for marriage.
Brian had arrived early and waited on the back patio. He stood and kissed her cheek before retrieving a brown paper bag from his car. “Italian.” He held up the bag. “I went to Trattoria. Fettuccine Alfredo, tossed salad, garlic bread, and tiramisu for dessert.” They’d had dinner at the small restaurant the week before she and Roman went on the road. How sweet that Brian remembered what she’d ordered. More desirable attributes. Brian was thoughtful and had a memory for details. Patrick would’ve bought Thai food on her credit card.