by Lisa Edmonds
“Would one of you be willing to visit the outreach center and see if there’s anything to this?” Amanda asked.
“We’ll go down there,” Mark said. “Who do we need to speak to?”
“Her name is Sister Berry,” Amanda told him. “It’s really Sister Mary Bernadette, but she goes by Sister Berry.”
Mark made a note. “Do you have a phone number?”
Amanda read off a number and he wrote it down. “We’ll look into it,” Mark said.
“Thank you, Mark,” Amanda said. We said our goodbyes and hung up.
Mark sat back in his chair. “Are you both available to go down there?”
I nodded. “I can go,” Sean said. “I have a pack meeting tonight, but I’m free until five or so.”
“I’ll stay here and keep digging into John West and the harnads,” Mark said. He looked at me. “I assume your ghost is tailing West today?”
“Yes. He’ll let me know if anything happens we need to know about.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get on it.” He tore out the sheet of paper that had Sister Berry’s name and phone number written on it and pushed it across the table to me.
I drained the last of my coffee and stood. Caffeine and adrenaline had kicked in, clearing the cobwebs from my sleepless night, at least for the time being, but I dreaded the inevitable crash later on. I wasn’t going to be much use to anyone if I didn’t get some decent sleep soon.
“What’s going on with you?” Mark asked. “You look ten times worse than you did yesterday.”
I glared at him. “What is it with guys telling me I look like crap today?”
“Sorry.” Mark reached under the table for a medium-sized gift bag. “The bottle of good Scotch I promised you.”
“Excellent.” I pulled back the tissue paper and peered at the wooden box. My eyebrows went up, and I grinned. “Wow, are you sure you want to give this up? This stuff is pricey.”
“I don’t drink whisky anymore,” Mark said. “Take it.”
I picked up the bag and cradled it. “You’re coming home with me,” I murmured.
“Did you just talk to that bottle of whisky?” Sean asked as we headed for the door.
“Yes.” I sniffed. “If you appreciated good Scotch, you’d understand. Come on; let’s go meet a nun.”
11
Sister Berry was nothing like what I’d pictured.
“Come in,” she called when I knocked on the doorway of her small office at the outreach center.
Sean and I entered the tiny room, which must have been a closet in a former life, to find a smiling woman of about forty, wearing a cheerful blue sweater and long skirt, her hair in a neat bun. Her only jewelry was a simple gold cross. She was burrowing in a box of papers and looked up when we walked in.
“You must be Alice,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” I confirmed. “We spoke on the phone.”
“Oh, call me Sister Berry,” the nun said. She turned to Sean and shook his hand. “And you’re her partner?”
“Sean Maclin,” he said. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
The nun set aside the box of papers and gestured for us to sit in the two plastic chairs in front of her desk. “I’m more thankful than I can say that you’re here,” she said earnestly, seating herself. “I’ve been trying for weeks to get anyone to look into this situation, but I’ve had no luck persuading the police that anything is wrong.”
“So we’ve heard,” I said. “You’ve spoken to Detective Shay, I understand.”
“Once on the phone and once in person. Since then, I’ve called her several times, but she’s only returned my call once and left me a voice mail saying she was unable to confirm these disappearances were due to foul play or there were really any disappearances at all.” The nun sighed. “It’s not unusual for the police to show little concern about the well-being of the people we serve here, but if I’m right and someone is taking these people, they deserve better than to be ignored.”
“I agree,” Sean said. “Why don’t you tell us why you think people have been taken.”
Sister Berry began looking through the paperwork on her desk. “I have a list.”
A pile of folders and invoices toppled over. Sean caught the paperwork before it could slide off onto the floor and the nun smiled gratefully as he righted the stack. “Thank you. I’d tell you that my office is usually not this disorganized, but that would be a lie, and I do try not to break a commandment if I can help it.” She chuckled.
After some searching, Sister Berry found a yellow legal pad and handed it to me. On it was a list of names and nicknames, with hastily scrawled notes indicating what day each person had last been seen. Some had been crossed out, with notes like “jail” or “hospital.” I flipped through the pages and counted seventeen people, ten men and seven women, whose whereabouts were unknown. The “last seen” dates ranged from six months to seven days ago.
Sean held out his hand and I passed him the notepad. “All of these people on the list are patrons here at the center?” I asked.
Sister Berry nodded. “They’ve all stayed here from time to time in the shelter, but we see them more often at the soup kitchen.”
Sean was looking over the list. “Do you see generally the same people from day to day?”
“Yes, we do. We’ve gotten to know them over the months or years they’ve been coming in. There’s always some turnover, as people cycle in and out of jail and hospitals, others arrive and leave, and some pass away, but I’ve seen a lot of the same people for the past four or five years, and now they’re gone.” She studied her folded hands. When she looked back at us, her eyes shimmered with tears. “My heart tells me something terrible is happening and I simply cannot stand by any longer and wait for the police to help.”
“Can we have a copy of this list?” I asked.
“Of course. Give me a moment.”
Sean handed her the list and she disappeared down the hall.
“What do you think?” he asked me quietly when we were alone.
“Gut feeling, it’s connected. I think her judgment is sound. It makes sense they’d be taking homeless people, too; they’re even less likely to be missed than the women from South Elm.”
“But what are they taking them for?” he growled.
“That’s the million-dollar question,” I replied as the nun came back and handed us two copies of the list. “Sister Berry, when your patrons don’t sleep here at the shelter, where do they stay?”
“Well, they’re from all around the area,” she said as she reseated herself. “Some sleep in alleys, in the park on Maple between Sixth and Seventh, or under overpasses. There are two larger camps: one under the Twelfth Street Bridge and another by the river where the air conditioner plant used to be.” She pointed at our lists. “I put abbreviations on the list if I knew where that person stayed: ‘P’ for the park, ‘12B’ for the bridge, or ‘RV’ for the river.” She looked at us with hope in her eyes. “Will you help?”
“We’ll look into it,” Sean promised. “If you get any news on the missing people, let us know. We’ll do the same.”
We all stood. The nun came around her desk. To my surprise, she hugged both of us. My response was a little stiff, since I wasn’t entirely comfortable with physical contact, but Sean seemed to sense Sister Berry sought comfort. Her obvious distress would trigger Sean’s protective instincts. When she stepped back, some of the tension seemed to have drained from her. I’d always suspected Sean produced some kind of calming pheromones as part of his alpha physiology.
“If we were here around meal time, do you think anyone would be willing to talk to us?” I asked.
Sister Berry looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. We’re serving breakfast until eleven. You’re more than welcome to visit with anyone who’s willing. If you were able to help in the dining hall, that could smooth the waters a bit. We’re short-handed today, so a few extra hands would be a blessing.
”
To my surprise, Sean immediately agreed. Ten minutes later, I was wearing a flowery apron and standing behind a warming tray, spooning scrambled eggs onto plastic cafeteria-style trays as tired men and women filed past. Mindful of our mission to establish a rapport, I put aside my discomfort at interacting with so many strangers at once and welcomed each person with a smile and a cheery greeting. Before long, my face hurt from smiling so much.
Sean, wearing an identical floral apron that somehow did not look ridiculous on him, had been recruited to refill coffee and water cups. He seemed to be striking up easy conversations with people as he moved around the room, clapping men on the shoulder and even offering side hugs to some of the older women. Unsurprisingly, a lot of the women—and a few of the men—needed several refills.
I wasn’t aware I was watching him a little too much until a woman with dreadlocks and a colorful head wrap leaned toward me over the eggs and said, “Your man is gorgeous.”
I blinked at her. “What? Oh, no, he’s not my man. Not at all.” I put eggs on her tray.
The woman made a disbelieving sound. “Girl, the way you looking at him, you ain’t just friends.”
From fifteen feet away where he was topping off coffee mugs at a table, Sean slid a glance in my direction and raised his eyebrows. Blasted werewolf hearing.
I narrowed my eyes at him, then turned back to the woman and gave her a big smile. “Have a great day!”
With a snort, the woman moved on to claim a cup of orange juice and headed for a table. I focused my attention on the people coming through the line and studiously ignored Sean as he made his rounds.
When things slowed down, I asked the woman serving bacon next to me to take over both stations, grabbed a pot of coffee and a pitcher of water, and wandered over to the table where the woman who’d spoken to me earlier sat with three other women. Sean sat at a table on the other side of the dining hall with four men of various ages, talking and making notes on his copy of Sister Berry’s list.
“Would anyone like refills?” I inquired.
Two of the women declined, but the others asked for coffee and water. I filled their cups, then asked, “Mind if I join you?”
After a hesitation, the woman in the head-wrap gestured at the empty chair. “Sure.”
I settled in and put the coffee pot and pitcher on the table. “My name is Alice.” I offered my hand to each of the women. The woman I’d spoken to earlier introduced herself as Maru. The others were Berta, Joann, and Theresa.
I took a plastic cup from the stack on the middle of the table and poured myself some water. “Sister Berry asked my partner and me to look into the folks who’ve been disappearing around here lately.”
Berta got up immediately and left the table, but the others stayed. “Don’t mind her,” Maru said. “She don’t trust nobody who smells like a cop.”
“I’m not a cop.” I produced a stack of business cards from my pocket and handed one to each of the women. “I’ve never been a cop, actually. I’m a private investigator.”
The women looked at my cards with varying degrees of skepticism. “You’ve talked to Sister Berry?” Maru asked.
“She said a lot of people have disappeared in the last few months. Do you know anything about that?”
Maru exchanged glances with Joann and Theresa. “Bunch’a people gone, ain’t nobody know where,” Maru told me as the others sat quietly. “Nothin’ new about folks disappearing sometimes; you get used to it, bein’ on the street. Everybody figures they been taken. People gone and left their things behind. Sometimes they leave their dogs, and we know they ain’t gonna leave their dogs without finding someone to take care of them. Sometimes people leave their shit, but they ain’t never leave their dogs.”
The other women nodded somberly.
“Have you seen anything or anyone suspicious in the past couple of months that might help us figure out what’s going on?” I asked. “Anybody lurking around where you guys stay, driving past slowly, offering people rides or work?”
“We see all those things every day,” Theresa said gruffly. “Most of us are on our guard every minute. You gotta be aware, even while you’re asleep. Some folks drink, do drugs…they aren’t as careful, don’t keep watch. Mostly it seems like those are the ones who go missing.”
“Not always,” Maru argued. “Bobby Jay and Rosie, they didn’t trust nobody. Neither did Zoot, and they all gone.”
“So you can’t think of anything that might point us in a direction? Anything at all?”
Joann finished her coffee and set her cup on the table. “If we knew anything, we would have told Sister Berry when she asked, not that it would have done any good. The cops can’t be bothered to look for missing homeless people. You learn pretty fast when you live on the street that your life’s not worth much to anyone. Nobody cares.”
“I care,” I told her firmly. “Sister Berry cares. The people I work with care. We’re going to do everything we can to find out what’s going on, who’s responsible, and what happened to your friends.”
“We’ve heard that before, a dozen times over the years.” Joann sounded more tired than angry. “I’m sorry if we seem rude to you, but at some point you get fed up with empty promises.” She got up and left, dropping her cup in the trash and depositing her tray and silverware in the tubs for dirty dishes. Theresa followed suit, leaving me sitting alone with Maru.
I dug the list Sister Berry gave me out of my bag and slid it across the table to her. “Do you know any names of people who aren’t on this list, or know the whereabouts of anyone who is unaccounted for?”
Maru looked through the list. “Everyone I know who’s missing is on here.” When she handed back the list, she was grave. “I ain’t gonna get my hopes up. Like Joann said, we been let down too many times. But if you say you’ll help, I say God bless you, and find our friends if you can.” She picked up her tray and headed for the exit.
I sat alone at the table, as the dining hall emptied out and volunteers put away the breakfast leftovers and cleaned up in preparation for the lunch meal. I was so deeply lost in thought that I jumped when Sean touched my shoulder.
“Sorry,” he said, sliding into the chair next to me. “I made sure you weren’t holding a cup of coffee this time.”
I gave him a faint smile. “I got an earful about how nobody cares about the lives of the homeless, and that was about it. You get anything helpful?”
“A couple more names of some people who went missing from the camp by the river about a month ago. Left their belongings and just disappeared. One of them left his dog.”
I remembered what Maru had said. “People sometimes leave their stuff, but nobody leaves their dog.”
He nodded. “I don’t think we can avoid the fact that these people have been taken. Unless we can believe there are two separate groups out here kidnapping people, it’s all part of the same problem. The question is: how are they getting them and no one sees anything?”
“Most homeless people are pretty suspicious of strangers and have fairly good instincts about who’s trustworthy and who isn’t. That makes me think the group who’s doing this are masters at seeming nonthreatening, or they blitz-attack so fast the victims don’t have a chance to put up a fight or attract anyone’s attention. They’ve been at it at least fourteen months, so they’ve probably got it down to a science at this point.”
“The lack of bodies is one of the most frustrating parts of all this. Bodies provide clues. I suppose that’s why we don’t have any, unless all these people are still alive, which seems unlikely.”
I sighed. “I’m tired of having so many questions and no answers. So far, we’ve been using fairly conventional methods of investigation. It’s time to explore other avenues.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I know someone who could help us. We’ll need access to Felicia’s apartment and your surveillance camera has to be turned off while we’re there.”
Sean ra
ised an eyebrow. “Whatever you need, I’ll make it happen if you think you might be able to get us some answers. What’s your plan?”
I slipped the apron off over my head and handed it to him. “If you’ll say our goodbyes to Sister Berry, I’m going to step outside and make a call.”
About an hour later, Sean and I were waiting in Felicia’s apartment when someone knocked on the door. I opened it and came face-to-chest with a man-shaped mountain wearing a black turtleneck, black pants, and black boots. I looked up and saw my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. “Alice Worth?” he rumbled.
“Yes?”
The man-mountain stepped aside to reveal a young man wearing a faded Tetris T-shirt and jeans. “Hey, Alice. You gonna let me in or what?” the shorter man asked.
“Hi, Adam.” I moved aside so he could come in. His enormous escort stationed himself outside the door like a sentry. A black luxury SUV waited at the curb, its windows tinted so dark that I couldn’t see anything other than another huge, hulking shadow in the driver’s seat. The Vampire Court took the safety of their Seers very seriously.
As I closed the door, Sean rose from the couch and gave the psychic a formal nod in lieu of offering a handshake. “I’m Sean Maclin, alpha of the Tomb Mountain Pack. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Adam March.” Our guest put his black leather duffel bag on the floor and studied me. “How you been, Alice? I haven’t seen you in a couple of months.”
“I’m doing okay. How much do you know about the situation?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I skimmed the reports Dunlap’s been sending to the Court. Since Maclin’s here, I’m guessing this is the apartment of the missing shifter.”