Thomas joined him with two chairs between them and asked about his work. Lucas said the Bureau had kept him busy with matters unrelated to the case. He did not offer details, and Thomas did not ask for any. They talked instead about the shop's new policy, Chloe's graduation, and a neighborhood fundraiser for a local school. Thomas admitted he still regretted how long he had treated Mateo's behavior as a nuisance instead of a warning. Lucas said regret was useful only if it changed the next decision.
"I used to think having an officer here made everybody feel safe," Thomas said. "Then I saw how quickly one officer could make a whole room afraid."
"One officer doesn't speak for all of them," Lucas answered. "But people should never need a second officer to protect them from the first one."
Thomas nodded slowly. He had put those words into his own version of a policy: employees could tell management when an official interaction felt wrong, customers could ask for assistance, and the shop would preserve records instead of assuming authority settled every question. It was not revolutionary. It was the ordinary structure of a place learning how to be responsible for the people inside it.
Lucas looked toward the counter. Chloe was helping a teenager in a paint-stained work shirt count the change in his hand. The boy apologized for taking too long, and she told him there was no hurry. He chose a small coffee because it was what he could afford, and she handed it over with the same easy courtesy she gave the attorney in the next line. Lucas watched without turning the moment into a speech. The ordinary kindness was more reassuring than a public promise.
In May, Angela Price called Lucas into her office with a new assignment. A joint operation in El Paso was beginning to investigate allegations of corruption involving a small group of border inspectors. The evidence was preliminary, and the work would require patience, cooperation across agencies, and a supervisor who knew when to slow a team down. Angela said Lucas had the experience the task needed. She also said he could take several days before deciding whether he wanted to travel again.
"You've done a lot of work lately that nobody puts on a performance review," she told him. "Make sure you aren't using the next case to avoid the last one."
Lucas appreciated the warning. He had spent months learning that stepping back from his own case was not weakness and that sleep was not an indulgence. He asked for a week to see his family, clear his desk, and get the rest of the Galveston operation fully closed out. Angela agreed. He accepted the El Paso assignment after making sure his involvement would not overlap with any unresolved inquiry about Mateo.
He visited Gloria on Sunday and told her he would be traveling again. She sighed the way mothers do when they know they will not change an adult child's plans, then began packing food for him despite his protests. Over dinner, they spoke about Noah Hayes, whom neither of them knew, and about children who inherit stories they never chose. Gloria said she hoped the boy grew up understanding that he could love his father without repeating his mistakes. Lucas agreed, aware that the same principle applied to organizations as well as families: loyalty meant wanting someone to do better, not refusing to see what they had done.