Stranger In The Night. Catherine Palmer
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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