Читать книгу Stranger In The Night - Catherine Palmer - Страница 12

L iz pulled her car to a stop in front of Haven and gathered up the stack of documents in the passenger seat. A shiver prickled down her spine as she focused on the young man slouched against the wall at the building’s entrance. Compact, taut with gleaming dark muscles, he wore a white T-shirt, baggy jeans and an expression that dared anyone to mess with him.

The task could have been saved for another time, Liz realized, and maybe she should have waited. The streets were dangerous at this hour. Her headache had worsened throughout the day. With her patience stretched to the limit, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep.

Please, Lord, let me sleep!

Why did He choose to answer this prayer so rarely? Liz shook her head as she pushed open the car door. Insomnia had become her demon, haunting her days and lying in wait to sabotage her nights. She ached for sleep yet dreaded the moment she would switch off her lamp each night. Her bed had become her worst enemy.

“Good evening.” The young man’s polite greeting surprised Liz so much she stopped walking. He straightened and stepped toward her. “Welcome to Haven, ma’am. I’m Raydell Watson, on door duty here. You’ll want to give me those papers, your purse and anything that might set off our metal detector.”

Belatedly, Liz noted the electronic apparatus just inside the door. Beyond it she spotted a dog. A large German shepherd, ears perked forward, tail raised.

“That’s Duke,” Raydell told her. “He’s our drug canine. He won’t do nothing to you—unless you’re carrying.”

“No. Of course not.” Liz handed over the sheaf of paperwork. “You know, maybe you could just deliver these for me. They go to a man named Joshua Duff. I really don’t need to talk to him.”

“You’ll want to go on in. We like for every visitor to take a look at our place.” Raydell smiled, and now Liz noted the single gold tooth. “We’re real proud of Haven. Just sign our register on my clipboard here.” He glanced at her signature. “Thanks, Ms. Wallace. Now hand over your purse, and I’ll let you through the door.”

With some reluctance, Liz gave the young man her bag. “I work for Refugee Hope.” She felt an odd need to explain. “Sergeant Duff is helping a Pagandan family with the resettlement process.”

“Right through this door,” Raydell said. He bellowed over her, “Visitor, Shauntay!”

As Liz stepped through the metal detector, she saw a young woman motion to the German shepherd. Wearing a white T-shirt and tight-fitting tan slacks, Shauntay gave Raydell a knowing smile as she took the registry. Then she picked up the dog’s leash and led him toward Liz.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Wallace. Duke don’t bite unless we give the command.” She walked the dog around Liz as she spoke. Satisfied, she handed back the purse. “You lookin’ for Uncle Sam or T-Rex?”

Liz frowned. Who were Uncle Sam and T-Rex?

“Actually,” she said, “I need to talk to Joshua Duff. I understand he’s staying at Haven.”

“That big dude? Over there shootin’ hoops.” Shauntay gestured with her chin. “He come in yesterday. Friend of Uncle Sam. They was soldiers together over in Iraq. He movin’ in here.”

“To Haven? No, I’m sure he plans to go home to Texas soon. He told me so this morning.”

“Texas? What he gonna do there?”

“Oil, I think.” Liz took a moment to study the young woman at her side. Tall and slender with a long graceful neck, Shauntay had the gentle beauty of a gazelle. Her almond eyes were dark brown and framed with long lashes. She could be a model on a magazine cover.

“Oil like what you fry chicken with? Or oil like you put in a car engine? Or hair oil?”

“The kind they make into gasoline. I believe Sergeant Duff’s family is in the oil drilling business.” Liz smiled. “What about you, Shauntay? What do you plan to do with your life?”

“Me?” She touched her chest as if the question surprised her. “I always wanted to have a hair place and do braids and weaves and twists and locs, you know? But I got two babies already, and I ain’t even finished school yet. T-Rex say I could have a hair place if I want to. If I try hard and get my GED and all that.”

“T-Rex?”

“Terell. The man. Him—over there with all the kids crawling on him.” Shauntay laughed. “T-Rex. He funny, you know? We like him. He make us believe, because we see how he done his life—comin’ up out of the hood and into the NBA, gettin’ rich, then losin’ everything to bein’ a pipe head. And then he come here to help us do better. Him and Uncle Sam. I think that big guy gonna stick around, too. He done fightin’ in Iraq, and he good friends with Uncle Sam. You seen his tats? Dog. ”

“Tats?”

Shauntay pointed out the tattoos that marked her arms and knuckles. “I used to be a 51 MOB queen, you know. A Hood Rat. They had me slangin’ keys and runnin’ from the 5-0 and everything else. The homeboys used to jump on us queens. They said we couldn’t get out once we was in. They’d kill us. But I got out and got both my babies out, too. Now I spend my time at Haven. I worked my way up through KP and laundry all the way to Duke duty. One of these days, I really might get my GED and start me a hair place.”

Liz tried to assimilate the information. Shauntay used a slang she didn’t know and spoke English with an accent almost as unfamiliar as that of the refugees who passed through her cubicle every day. Though she had merely stepped from a St. Louis street into a St. Louis building, Liz felt much as she had the first day she got off an airplane in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Haven was another country. Another world.

“I’m glad you spend your time here,” Liz told Shauntay. “You’re a beautiful young lady. I hope you do get your degree and start your own business. I’d be your first customer.”

“You?” At this, Shauntay laughed so hard that Liz began to wish she hadn’t said anything. Even Duke appeared unnerved as he paced back and forth on his leash. Shauntay shook her head. “Lady, you white! ”

“So? I have hair, don’t I?”

“You got hair, but…” The young woman took a step closer. “Lemme see you.”

Liz tilted her head to one side. Shauntay gently dipped her fingertips into the mass of loose brown curls. For a moment, she murmured unintelligible comments, as if assessing something completely foreign. Then she made a sound like a cat purring.

“Yo, Ms. Wallace, I bet I could do you a goddess braid.” The pronouncement was definitive. “I got two or three ideas in mind already.”

Liz felt strangely happy. She took Shauntay’s hand. “Deal. But not tonight. I have to give these papers to the sergeant over there and head home. I’m exhausted.”

“When you gonna come back?”

“Come back…” The implications of her offer sank in. “Later. Maybe this weekend.”

“Okay, Saturday. What time?”

Liz glanced across the room and noted that Joshua Duff had stopped shooting baskets. He was staring at her.

“I’m not sure about Saturday,” she said. “I’ll need to check my calendar.”

“You got it in your bag?”

“Um…” Now he was walking toward her. “Listen, Shauntay, I’ll be back soon. I promise. Would you give these papers to Sergeant Duff? I need to get going.”

“You ain’t comin’ back. I met people like you before. Make promises and don’t do nothin’.”

“No, I will be back.” Liz focused on the young woman’s mahogany eyes. “All right, Saturday. Two o’clock. You can do a braid for me.”

She made an attempt to pass off the paperwork. Shauntay shrugged one shoulder and turned away. “We’ll see. C’mon, Duke. Let’s go talk to Raydell. Probably some Hypes out there on the street tryin’ to move in on our set.”

“Wait. Please.” Liz wrapped her arms around the sheaf of documents as she watched Shauntay saunter away and Joshua Duff approach. This had been a mistake. She would get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Liz Wallace.” His damp white T-shirt clung to his chest. Through the thin fabric, the tattoos were visible, marking his biceps. She dragged her focus to his face. White-flecked navy-blue eyes pinned her. “You’re here.”

“As you see.” She made an effort to copy Shauntay’s gesture of indifference. “I thought I’d drop off a copy of my agency’s handbook and some of the other information I mentioned on the way to the airport this morning. Lists of supplies your family will need. Community resources. Government assistance programs. Here you go.” She held out the documents.

He stood motionless. “Why did you come?”

“The paperwork.” Again, she pushed it at him.

“But I didn’t intend to see you again.”

“You didn’t?” His statement confused her. “You’re still planning to resettle the refugee family from Paganda, aren’t you?”

He appeared perplexed for a moment. Then he nodded. “Oh, yeah. I worked on it this afternoon.”

“These will help you.”

This time he took the paperwork. “You caught me off guard. I’ve been shooting hoops.”

She tried not to look at his chest. “Yes. Well, I hope you’re having fun. This is a nice place for the kids. Your friend has done a good job.”

“Do you want to meet Sam?”

“No. I mean, I just swung by to drop off the copies. I’m on my way home. Please greet the Rudi family for me.”

Before he could respond, she turned toward the door.

“Hang on.” He caught her arm, pulled her closer. “Liz, wait.”

“Really, I have to go. I’m tired.”

“Let me introduce you to Sam and Terell.” His hand cupping her elbow, he maneuvered her onto the basketball court. “Sam agreed to help me find Pastor Stephen a job. The guy wants to start a church, but—”

“He does?” Joy washed through her. “We desperately need local churches for the refugees. Pastor Stephen speaks Swahili, right? It’s a common language in eastern Paganda, and many of our people pick it up while they’re living in refugee camps in Kenya or Tanzania. I’ve been hoping to start a Bible study for Swahili speakers at my apartment.”

“You know Swahili?”

“Not well. I learned a little while I was in the DRC, and I’ve been taking classes at the community center. It’s part of my preparation for the UN job.”

He stopped walking. “Africa. You’re going to Africa.”

“Lord willing.”

For a moment, they looked at each other. Liz sensed the activity around them, kids running by, balls bouncing, a child crying, whistles blowing. But all she saw was the desire in Joshua Duff’s eyes. Desire for her.

He wanted her.

She felt his hunger wrap around her chest and tighten her heart. Her own response caught in her throat, taking her breath away. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

“Who’s this?”

A deep voice broke the invisible shell that had surrounded them. Liz glanced up to see the towering T-Rex, the impression of height increased by a golden-haired child perched on his shoulders.

“You got a lady friend, Duff? Why didn’t you tell us she was coming over? Welcome to Haven.” He stuck out a large hand. “I’m Terell Roberts. This is Brandy, up here. She’s my sidekick.”

Liz shook Terell’s hand and focused on the child. The angelic illusion of pink cheeks and blond curls faded beneath the reality of the little girl’s runny nose, matted hair and grimy face.

“Hi, Brandy. My name is Liz Wallace.” She returned to Terell. “And you must be T-Rex. Shauntay pointed you out. I work for Refugee Hope.”

“Liz Wallace—you’re the lady who…” His eyes darted to Joshua for an instant and then back, looking her up and down. “I heard about you. Yeah, you live up to your billing.”

At that, Joshua sobered. “Terell, can you introduce Liz to Sam? I remembered something I need to tell Pastor Stephen. Thanks for the paperwork, Liz. I’ll put this to good use.”

Before she could reply, he strode away, leaving her alone with Terell and Brandy.

“Sergeant Duff and I don’t get along, you see,” she said. “We got off to a bad start this morning at Refugee Hope. The Rudi family came to the States through a different agency, and I didn’t feel I could help them. So we had a bit of conflict.”

“You did?” Terell studied Joshua, who was going into one of the small rooms that lined one side of the basketball court.

“That’s not what Duff told Sam and me at supper. The way I hear it, you’re the prettiest thing he’s laid eyes on in years. Said you’re making him crazy.”

Liz knotted her fingers together. “I’m sure he meant crazy in a negative way. Anyway, it’s been nice to meet you—and you, too, Brandy.”

The little girl waved down from her perch. “Bye-bye!”

“Hold on now—you need to meet Sam,” Terell said. “We’ve got refugees starting to come to Haven, and we need help figuring out how to handle them. Nobody on staff speaks Spanish or Swahili or any of that, and some of those kids talk like lightning in the strangest gobbledygook I’ve ever heard. Sam’s in the office. C’mon, Liz. Follow me.”

Despite her urgency to get away, Liz could do nothing but accompany Terell to the youth center’s office with its long windows overlooking the main room. A striking man wearing Haven’s requisite white T-shirt rose from behind a desk as they entered.

“Sam, meet Liz Wallace. Duff’s lady.” Terell lifted Brandy off his shoulders and set her on the floor. “Liz, this is Sam Hawke. We run Haven.”

“Us and a slew of volunteers. So you’re the woman.” Sam smiled in a way that made Liz even more uncomfortable. “Duff was right.”

“That’s what I told her,” Terell confirmed.

“I’m glad you’re filling our resident Marine sergeant in on the refugee situation,” Sam continued. “We hope he’ll stick around and help us out. The refugees are starting to trickle in here, and I have a feeling we’re going to be inundated before long.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Several resettlement agencies have contracts with apartment managers in this area. Refugee Hope placed families from Burundi and Congo right around the corner. We’re negotiating with a manager to place some incoming Somali immigrants in a building down the street. Terell mentioned that Reverend Rudi is interested in planting a church in the area. I hope you’ll encourage that.”

“A church where they talk Swahili. ” Terell enunciated the word.

Liz smiled. “Refugee Hope has learned that children from our African families assimilate to city street culture very quickly. It’s a way of coping that often leads them into gangs—and then into a lot of trouble. As a faith-based agency, we do all we can to help our immigrants build a stable lifestyle. Any intervention you could provide at Haven would be great.”

“Your visit here tonight can’t be an accident, Liz.” Sam crossed his arms. “The Rudi family must be the tip of an iceberg we’ve just begun to notice. If families are moving into the area at the rate you’re describing, we need to let Haven’s board of directors know about it and put some strategies in place.”

“You have a board?”

The corporate sound of the word contrasted with the pile of dirty white T-shirts in one corner of the room and the row of ancient computers on a long table near the desk. Broken trophies littered a shelf. A large metal barrel labeled Lost & Found overflowed with jackets, caps, mittens and flip-flops.

“Thanks to the legal help of one of our sponsors, Haven went nonprofit a few weeks ago,” Sam explained. “We’re all set up now. We have a grant writer, too.”

“We’re a 501 (c)(3) charitable organization,” Terell clarified. “You can get grants even if you’re faith-based, which we are.”

“Sounds like Haven and Refugee Hope have similar goals.” Liz reached into her purse and pulled out a business card for each man. “Call me if you run into any problems. I’ve given Sergeant Duff a stack of information about our agency and the people we resettle. We have a lot of resources at our fingertips. And please support Pastor Stephen in his effort to start a church. It’s the best thing that could happen to this neighborhood.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Sam said. “Thanks again for coming by, Liz. You’re welcome anytime.”

“I’ll be back on Saturday. I promised to let Shauntay braid my hair.”

His grin broadened. “Good—you’ll get to meet my fiancée. Ana teaches a writing class on Saturdays.”

Dreading the thought of any deeper involvement with Joshua’s friends, Liz gave the men a nod of farewell and turned to go. “You aren’t planning to walk to your car by yourself, are you?” Terell accompanied her out of the office, Brandy clutching his hand. “Did you park nearby?”

“Not far. Your door guard—Raydell?—will keep an eye on me.”

“Naw, that’s no good. We got Hypes casing our set day and night. They’re looking for trouble. You’ll be a sitting duck out there. Let’s find Duff.”

“No, really it’s—”

Too late. Terell lifted the whistle that hung by a lanyard from his neck and gave an ear-piercing blow. Joshua—who had been hunkered down talking to some kids at the far end of the room—turned to look. So did everyone else.

“Yo, Duff! Your lady!” Terell’s long arm snaked overhead, his index finger pointing down at Liz as he yelled. “Walk her out!”

Mortified, she ducked her head and started for the door. She hadn’t made it halfway there when Joshua fell in alongside her.

“I thought you’d gone,” he said.

“You’re the one who walked away.” She focused on the metal detector. “I’ve been talking to your buddies.”

“Sam and Terell? Listen, Liz—don’t pay any attention to what they say.”

“They said a refugee church led by Pastor Stephen would be a good idea. I’m sure you’ll encourage him, too. Right?”

A low groan rumbled deep in Joshua’s chest. “My goal is to find that guy a real job, an apartment and some kind of transportation. I’ve got to head back to Texas. If he wants to start a church, he’ll need to do it on his own time.”

“I didn’t realize you were a janitor, like me. Mopping up the mess left by genocide—but not getting deeply involved with the people. Finding them employment, a place to live. That’s about all I’ve been able to do at Refugee Hope. The name is a little ironic.”

“You give them hope, Liz. Meeting the basic needs of a family is important.”

“I want to do more. When I met you this morning, I thought you did, too.” They had arrived at the door. Shauntay and the dog were nowhere in sight. “I’ll let myself out, Sergeant Duff. I work in these neighborhoods. I’m not afraid.”

He was two steps ahead of her. “I’ll see you to your car.”

“Don’t. Please.” She shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with you.”

“Because of what Terell said.” Blocking her path, he pushed through the one-way swinging door. He glanced up and down the street, then beckoned her through. “Terell jumped to conclusions. I barely mentioned you.”

Liz held her breath as she walked past him. She could not allow herself to look, to smell, to touch. Dreams and goals lay clearly ahead of her. A sweaty ex-Marine on his way home to Texas was not among them.

The streetlights were inadequate, she saw at once. Darkness hovered in doorways and alleys. A muffled, pumping drumbeat pulsed from open windows. The scent of cigarette smoke and urine mingled in the humid air. A woman laughed. A man shouted. A bottle broke.

Liz gripped her keys in one hand—the long car key jutting between index and middle fingers to serve as a weapon if the need arose. Her small canister of pepper spray dangled from the key ring. A class she’d taken in self-defense had prepared her for this. She mentally reviewed the weak points on an attacker’s body, reminded herself to check her car—front and back seats—before getting in, scanning her surroundings.

Of course, it didn’t hurt to have Joshua Duff at her side. The sudden realization of his military training flooded Liz. Fear slunk away. Wariness eased. She let herself drift closer to him as they crossed the street.

“That’s my car.” She pointed out the American-made compact. “Thank you. I guess…all right, I am grateful you came with me. I thought Raydell would be out here.”

“The kid with the gold tooth?” Joshua frowned. “He’s been on door duty all day. Sam said someone is always supposed to be standing guard…. Uh-oh.”

Liz turned in the direction of his gaze. Two figures were pressed against a wall a hundred feet from Haven’s door. She recognized Shauntay’s tall, slender shape. The other had to be Raydell.

“Where’s the dog?” Joshua tensed. His arm stretched out in front of Liz as she backed against her car. “The kids have gone AWOL. Someone’s taken the dog.”

“Duke. That’s his name,” Liz whispered. “Do you see anyone?”

“Get into your car, Liz. Drive. I’ll take care of this.”

She spotted three silhouettes under the awning of the shuttered building beside Haven. “There,” she whispered, stepping close. “To the left.”

“I’ve got ’em.” He bent slightly. Something small and shiny materialized in his hand. A glint of silver. “Liz, get into the car.”

When she didn’t obey, his voice hardened. “Do it now.”

“This is America, Sergeant.” She slipped her cell phone from her bag and pressed a single, preprogrammed key. “And by the way, I don’t take orders well.”

As she spoke, the three stepped out of the shadows, the dog at their side. Young men. In the light, she saw their white T-shirts. Haven garb? One held Duke’s leash. The canine whimpered. Were these good kids? Or Hypes?

A glance at the entwined pair in the distance gave her little hope. They’d be no help. Raydell and Shauntay had other things on their minds.

“They’ve got the dog,” Joshua said. “They want us to know that. It’s a first step. They’ll try to take you next.”

“They don’t want me. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

Sensing a transformation in Joshua that frightened her, Liz touched his shoulder. “The police are on the way—I just called. Relax. We’ll find out what’s going on.”

She heard him breathing. Sensed the strain of muscle against fabric. Saw the knife in his hand.

This man would erupt, she understood suddenly. He would kill.

Before he could move, she stepped around him. At that moment, the dog leaped.