“Another kidnapping,” he said. “They’ve requested us and the FBI. I’ll be late. And I’ll be out of the office on another case tomorrow. But you remember. I’ll pick you and Tad up tomorrow at six.”

She smiled. “At six,” she agreed, and her heart lifted out of the tortured memory she’d relived.

He pursed his lips. “Maybe I’ll teach you to dance.”

“Maybe you’ll teach cows to fly,” she countered.

He was still laughing when he went out the door.

Clancey was a nervous wreck at the end of the day, when the cab deposited her and Tad at home.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tad asked when they were inside the house.

“Mr. Banks wants to take us out to eat at Fernando’s, that flamenco restaurant, tomorrow night.”

“He does?” Tad was all eyes. “What did you say? You said yes, right? Right?”

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “I said yes.”

“Whoopee!” he exclaimed. “Tacos and enchiladas and flan!”

“Leave it to you to think of the food first,” she teased.

“Well, the dancing’s nice, too. You going to dance with Mr. Banks?”

She flushed. “I might.”

He grinned.

She went through her meager stock of clothes and found one nice blouse that was sort of fancy to go with her best jeans and boots. It was a button-up blouse in shades of green and brown and gray that complemented her olive complexion and brought out the pale silver of her eyes. She couldn’t do anything about her mop of hair that set itself into thick waves when the humidity was high. It was easy to keep as long as she had it cut infrequently. She used the lightest touch of makeup, just some powder and a gloss lipstick. But she looked presentable, if not overly pretty.

She had some cologne, but she hesitated to use it. Sometimes even the floral fragrances she liked caused asthma attacks. She used a light deodorant instead and hoped for the best.

Tad whistled when she came into the living room. “You look nice,” he said.

She grinned. “Thanks.” She picked up her ratty old jacket with a sigh. “Maybe they won’t mistake us for vagrants when we walk in the door,” she said.

“Nobody’s going to be looking at what we wear,” Tad protested gently. “I mean, they have a live band and they have people who dance the tango. That’s what everybody will be watching. Not us. Remember when Cal took us there? The food was great! Anyway, nobody will care what you’re wearing. Honest.”

She laughed. “Leave it to you to reduce my greatest fears into feathers.”

He grinned. “I like Mr. Banks,” he said. “It’s really nice of him to take us out.”

“Cal goes there to eat most Friday nights,” she commented. “We’ll probably see him, too.”