When she was five or six, her loser of a father walked out, leaving her mother with Peyton and two other kids. Her mom could barely make ends meet on two salaries, and with only one, she was forced to decide between food and rent. She chose rent, which meant they were regulars at the local food bank for a few years until things got better.
One of the more frequent visitors at this shelter was sitting out front when we arrived.
“Hey, Eddie,” Peyton said.
I’d met the guy before. He was probably only in his forties, but the streets had aged him. His words were few and far between, but he seemed harmless enough. Peyton had a special bond with him—he’d say more to her than he did to most.
“What happened to your head?” I leaned down, careful to keep the distance I knew he needed. He had a wide gash near his temple.
“How’d that happen, Eddie?” Peyton asked.
He shrugged. “Kids.”
Lately there’d been incidents of teenagers beating up on homeless people overnight out on the streets. Eddie wasn’t big on sleeping in shelters. The places were almost always over capacity, and he had issues with people coming too close.
“New shelter on 41st opened,” I said. “Just passed it the other day. Might not be too crowded since it’s new, and the weather is warm.”
“Yeah.” Never more than a one-word answer for me.
“I think you should go to the police, Eddie,” Peyton said.
With all the time she’d put in at these places, she still didn’t get it. Homeless people didn’t go to the police. They walked the other way when they saw them coming.
Eddie shook his head furiously and pulled his legs up to his chest.
“That looks serious. You probably should have had stitches. Do the kids who did that come to this shelter?” she asked.
Again, Eddie shook his head.
After a few minutes, I finally convinced her to leave the poor guy alone and go inside to do what she’d come to do. When we went in, the shelter manager, Nelson, was cleaning up dinner service.
Peyton immediately started to interrogate him. “Do you know what happened to Eddie’s head?”
He stopped wiping down the table. “Nope. I asked. Got the usual response—nothing. You’re the only one he says more than please and thank you to.”
“Do you know where he sleeps at night?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. The city’s got more than forty homeless communities, and that doesn’t include setting up shop under a train trestle somewhere on your own. Could be anywhere.”
Peyton frowned. “Okay.”
“I know it’s not easy. But we can’t help the ones who won’t take our help. He knows he’s welcome to stay here anytime.”
“I know.” She pointed to the storage room in the back. “I forgot to take the inventory list. I have an audition tomorrow, so I’m going to do it online from home.”
While Peyton was gone, I looked around the shelter. The place had recently been painted, and each volunteer had donated a framed poster with their favorite motivational quote. There were probably a dozen in matte black frames running down the long wall of the cafeteria. The first one read Even at the end of the darkest night, the sun will rise again.
“Is this one yours?” I asked when Peyton returned with a folder.
“Nope.” She gave me a quick peck on the lips. “You can read them all another time, and I’ll give you a reward if you find the one I brought. But I want to catch Eddie again before he’s gone.” She tugged my hand. “So let’s go.”
Eddie was no longer sitting outside, although he was easy enough to spot. Halfway up the block, he was ambling along. He had a limp on the right and a garbage bag slung over his left shoulder.
Peyton saw him just before he rounded the corner. “Let’s follow him. See where he goes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous—and an invasion of his privacy. We’re not following a homeless person.”
“But if we know where he sleeps at night, maybe the police would help.”
“No.”
“Please…”
“No.”
“Fine.”
I should have known she wasn’t going to drop it so quick.
Chapter 4
Reese
My cell had rung bright and early this morning, and suddenly I had an unexpected lunch date I was rather looking forward to. Chase had mentioned he had a friend who was a recruiter, but he’d failed to include the part that the woman, Samantha, recruited for Parker Industries—a company he owned. I was instantly intrigued, and I’ll admit I was a tad bit disappointed when she suggested we meet at a restaurant. Even though it was easy to get to—only a few stops on the subway from my soon-to-be-vacated office at Fresh Look—there wouldn’t be any chance of running into Chase since we weren’t meeting at his office.
But lunch had turned out to be pretty enlightening. We’d spent two hours at a restaurant, now followed by a long walk through the park. After we’d talked about my background and what I was looking for in an employer, the conversation turned to Parker Industries.