Home Fires Read online

  Joe chuckled in his wheezy kind of way.

  It was too much. He’d been so against the tent city, so adamant. And now here he was, joking about moving in.

  He leaned over again to keep wiping down the tarp.

  The end of a folded switchblade stuck up out of his back pocket, a scrap of blue string snagged on it. The string was the same color as the tents they’d lost.

  He must have done it.

  Who else?

  She turned away. No longer angry, she was awash in sadness.

  When she was far enough he couldn’t hear her betray him back, she dialed 9-1-1.

  Chapter 37

  The phone burned in Cyndi’s hand.

  The police would come soon, sirens blaring. They would find him in the field, pretending to help, with evidence in his back pocket.

  Motive and opportunity.

  She sighed. When he was just some homeless guy, he’d had a certain charm. But now that she was getting to know him and his story, she was disappointed by the pattern of destruction he lived without remorse or care.

  She went to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. There she found Clark, slouched down against the industrial-sized refrigerator.

  “Where’s Zach?” Cyndi asked.

  Clark just shrugged.

  “You okay?” Cyndi slid down beside her.

  “Yeah. I guess.” She brushed a stray clump of hair off her face, revealing her blotched, swollen cheeks.

  Cyndi helped her to her feet. “You hungry? Can I get you a shake or something down at the sandwich shop?”

  She shrugged again, but when Cyndi stood and reached for her hand, she got up. She shuffled behind her out onto the sidewalk.

  They were halfway to the sandwich shop when some shouting out near the field stopped them. Cyndi looked across the parking lot. Someone was getting into it with Mike.

  She ran across the lot to see what was going on. It was that awful Spencer Ridley and his horrid wife.

  Spencer’s anger rose as a trumpet sound, but the words were lost before they reached her ears.

  She kept running, Clark right behind her.

  “—or I’ll call the police!” Spencer was right in Mike’s face. If he didn’t have an alibi, they’d already have him locked up. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t the vandal.

  “Please step back.” Mike’s voice was firm but calm. By the look on his face, he was close to losing it. He stepped closer to Spencer.

  “Hey, man!” Spencer threw his hands in the air, palms away from Mike as if inviting a fight. “Back off or I’ll have a restraining order slapped on you so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

  Just then, strobing red-and-blue police lights flashed atop an approaching patrol car. The sirens blipped a couple of times, and the car pulled to a stop next to Tent City Three. A blue sedan pulled in behind the squad car, and a man and a woman in business attire got out.

  Cyndi’s stomach churned.

  When Mike walked toward the officer, he had to pass Spencer.

  “Back off, man!” He took a fighting stance.

  “Settle down,” Mike replied, thrusting his open hands still higher in surrender. “I’m not going to touch you. I’ve got to see what this officer wants.”

  Cyndi wished she could grab Mike by one hand and Clark by the other and drag them home—home to a life of peace and normalcy. It would be so easy just to step away, one step at a time, and never look back, so wonderful to click her heels together and be whisked by magic to a happy place. But all she could do was stand and watch helplessly as the inevitable chain of events unfolded in slow motion.

  Mike tried to sidestep Spencer to get to Sergeant Stanislaus, but Spencer wouldn’t let him by.

  A second police officer stood behind the sergeant, the two from the sedan behind him.

  The two police officers ignored Spencer’s posturing. Their eyes were trained on someone else.

  Cyndi turned to see who the officers were targeting.

  Just beyond her, still wiping down tarps, knelt Joe. His back was turned to the commotion as if he hadn’t heard anything.

  So they’d come for him.

  Whatever she’d hoped to feel, this wasn’t it. It was like she still held the handle of the blade she’d stabbed into his back.

  What had she done?

  The sergeant stood, feet spread to shoulders’ width, arms crossed with an air of authority. “Joseph Talbot?”

  Joe turned his head to see the officer. “Yes?”

  “You’re under arrest.”

  Joe looked to Cyndi for help.

  She turned away. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney . . .”

  Cyndi walked away, as if removing herself from the scene would ease the pain in her heart. She didn’t know what hurt worse: Joe’s betrayal of her trust, or her betrayal of their friendship.

  She walked past Stanislaus, not sure where to go. She just wanted to get away.

  The plainclothes police officers walked toward her. She sidestepped to let them by.

  They walked past her. She turned to see where they were going.

  Clark was right behind her.

  All the togs of the puzzle clicked into place. Cyndi wanted to tell her to run.

  Clark’s fearful glance darted between the police, a known threat, and these two and their undisclosed intentions.

  “Clarisse Ranier?”

  Clark’s only motion was the expansion of her chest as she tried to draw breath.

  “Are you Clarisse Ranier?”

  Still she didn’t answer. The air crackled with tension.

  Something had to give.

  It was Zach. “Leave her alone,” he said.

  “Shut up, Zach,” Clark spat.

  “So you are Clarisse?”

  “Clark,” she said. Despite the firm set of her chin, she looked like she was going to cry.

  Cyndi knew exactly how she felt.

  The woman from the sedan placed a hand on Clark’s elbow. “We’re here to take you home.”

  The woman steered Clark to their car.

  Cyndi’s heart dragged behind her, stretching the bond between them but not breaking it. She couldn’t let them take her. “Stop!” she yelled. “Let her go.”

  The woman let go of Clark’s arm. She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open to her ID. “Child Protective Services. JoLynn Arnold,” she said. “We’ve been looking for Clarisse here for some time.”

  “You can’t take her—” Cyndi started.

  JoLynn stopped her. “It’s my job to make sure she gets home safely.”

  “Please don’t make me,” Clark pleaded. “I’d rather die.”

  Cyndi didn’t know the law, but she knew Clark belonged with her. “Can I just talk to her for a minute?”

  The man with JoLynn piped in. “Clarisse’s father is very anxious to see her.”

  “Stepfather,” Cyndi said. “He’s not her father.”

  From the corner of her eye, Cyndi could see Joe being put in a squad car. Sergeant Stanislaus pushed the old man’s head down to keep him from knocking it on the doorframe, gave a gentle shove to put Joe’s head all the way into the car, and closed the door. Joe rested his head on the window.

  Cyndi’s heart tore in two.

  The sergeant walked over with Mike. “Everything’s under control now, ma’am. We’ve got your vandal. You might want to contact a lawyer to discuss where to go from here.”

  The absurdity of his statement made Cyndi want to cry. But if she started, she’d never be able to stop.

  “Where are they taking Clark?” Mike asked.

  Cyndi turned back to see the CPS workers putting Clark in the car, not unlike the police had just done with Joe. “They’re taking her. We’ve got to stop them.”

  Mike turned to Stanislaus. “Can you help?”

  The sergeant walked o
ver to the CPS workers. He took JoLynn’s badge, scrutinized it, and handed it back.

  Cyndi took Mike’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Can they just take her away?”

  “I don’t know, hon.”

  Cyndi went to the car window. The look of panic on Clark’s face fed her own panic. She wanted to shout that everything would be all right, but Clark deserved more than empty promises.

  JoLynn was showing Stanislaus a piece of paper. He skimmed its contents and handed it back. He came around to Cyndi’s side of the car.

  “It looks like everything is in order,” he said. “She’s a runaway. Her family is worried about her.”

  “Family?” Cyndi spit out the word. You couldn’t call a monster like that family.

  “Isn’t she old enough to be independent?” Mike asked.

  “She’s fifteen,” JoLynn said, a touch of frustration creeping into her tone. “She’s been on the run for over a year. Her father has been worried sick. And now we’re going to place her back with him.”

  “Wait!” Zach blurted. “You can’t take her back there. He’ll hurt her. He’s dangerous.”

  “I hope that’s not true,” JoLynn said. “We’ve got no evidence or reports to say he is. We’ll assign her a new caseworker who will check in with her regularly. If anything is amiss, we’ll pull her from the home. But for now . . .”

  The tall man—Cyndi didn’t catch his name—folded himself into the front seat of the car. JoLynn walked around to the driver’s side.

  “Wait,” Cyndi said, desperately searching for any words that would keep Clark away from danger. Knowing her words had failed before. “When can I see her?”

  “Ma’am, we are not prison guards. We’re not even the police. Once she’s home, she’s home. If she wants to see you, I’m sure you can arrange something.”

  Through the closed window, Clark shouted her address and phone number. Mike scrawled them on a scrap of paper.

  Cyndi put her hands against the window. “Don’t worry. We’ll come for you. I love you.”

  Zach stood, hands crammed deep into his sweatshirt pocket, shoulders hunched forward, jaws clenched, face white.

  Cyndi shared his pain, a physical ache that came from deep in the soul. It felt a lot like losing Madi, only more sudden, like a Band-Aid being ripped off instead of being pulled off slowly.

  The love stretched even tighter as the sedan pulled away.

  Cyndi stood on tiptoe and shouted, “I will come for you!”

  Chapter 38

  Joe couldn’t hear what was happening with Mike, Cyndi, Zach, and Clark from his seat in the back of the squad car. But body language spoke.

  Despair . . . written in their stance, in the way they hung their heads. He almost forgot his own predicament while he watched the drama outside his window unfold. When the man slammed the car door, Zach and Cyndi stood together in shared grief. From behind, they could be mother and son. And when the sedan rolled out of sight, the two gave in and wept on each other’s shoulders.

  Love hurts.

  He hadn’t realized it when he was young. But when he learned, he learned it good. Since then he’d carefully shielded himself from the unnecessary pain of it.

  Wolf wandered over to Joe’s window and pressed his wet nose against the glass.

  Joe listened to the faint whine through the window. He felt the dog’s anguish in his own heart.

  “Hey, old boy,” he whispered. “I’ve got to go away for a while. I’ll be back, though. You take care of yourself. I’ll be back soon.” Joe’s voice cracked. He swallowed the salty knot forming in the back of his throat. “Tell Cyndi and Mike I didn’t do it. They’ll believe you. And, Wolf?”

  The dog cocked its head.

  Joe tapped on the glass. “Wait for me, will ya?”

  The officers got into the car and slammed their doors.

  Mike and Zach looked up when the engine started. Cyndi actually looked away. She didn’t run to his rescue like she had for Clark. No one ran to save him.

  They thought he was guilty.

  Chapter 39

  Cyndi sank to the ground, her heart crushed within her.

  Mike knelt down beside her. “It’ll be all right.”

  “How can it?” She buried her face in her hands. Hot tears pressed into her palms. “I promised I would take care of her. I let her down.”

  “She’ll make it. She’s a tough kid.”

  “She’s not tough. She’s just a baby.” Cyndi wanted to scream.

  “She’s not Madi, you know. She’s strong. And she’s going to make it.”

  “He’s going to hurt her.”

  Mike cleared his throat. “Just because she ran away doesn’t mean he’s abusive.”

  Why did everyone assume this jerk was the one who was being maligned? “He is,” she said. “Clark told me.” Briefly she related what little information Clark had told her.

  “Then we’ll get her back.” He stood and paced. He got on the phone to the police. He was talking to CPS. All this before Cyndi even found legs to stand on. Every time the door was closed by a negative answer, Cyndi’s spirit sank.

  She couldn’t just sit here. She had to do something.

  She needed to find Clark.

  Mike drove and Cyndi checked the map on her phone. The address Clark gave them was closer to downtown. It wouldn’t take them long to get there, but it seemed like forever. Why were they hitting every red light?

  Cyndi watched the dot on the map move closer to their destination. “Take the next right. No, that one where the car is coming out.”

  Mike followed her directions into a high-end neighborhood. “Are you sure this is right?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Hard to imagine her living here, though, isn’t it?”

  “Hard to imagine living on the streets after this.”

  Not if home life was as bad as she described it. Cyndi looked at the map again. “134th is up ahead.”

  Mike drove up the street, watching the house numbers increase.

  “It should be in the next block. There it is.” Cyndi’s stomach fluttered.

  He parked by the curb, even though it looked like this was one of those communities where street parking was forbidden. “Is that a For Sale sign?”

  That couldn’t be right. They must have the wrong address.

  She double-checked what she had scribbled on her hand. This was it, all right. Cyndi got out and grabbed a flyer from the For Sale sign and brought it back.

  “It’s for sale.” She said the obvious but couldn’t grasp what it meant. Were they in the wrong place? Did Clark’s stepdad even have the right to move her?

  They walked up to the front door together. Cyndi’s stomach did flips in her throat. Oh, how she wanted to hold Clark close.

  Mike rang the doorbell.

  No one answered.

  He rang it again.

  Cyndi listened, hoping to hear something. Maybe someone was inside, just not answering. She peered in the vertical window beside the door. A sheer curtain blocked most of the view. She moved around to peek through another window.

  “What are you doing?” Mike hissed. “Stop spying on them.”

  “I’m not spying,” she said aloud. “There’s no one here. It’s completely empty.” No furniture, no rugs, no decorations. Only freshly washed Italian tile floors and an end table with real estate cards scattered on it. Mike joined her at the window. He cupped his hands against the glass to cut down on the glare.

  “Oh, Cynthia, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  Not as bad as Cyndi’s feeling. If Clark wasn’t here, they had no way to find her.

  She wasn’t just lost to them. She was lost and in danger.

  The next morning, Cyndi sat at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a cup of tea. She wore her robe and slippers. She tried to read the front-page stories, but the words blurred together.

  Mike padded into the kitchen in a ragged old sweatshirt and some sweatpants that didn’t match an
d poured himself a cup of coffee. His face looked bruised. “Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about Clark. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’re doing all we can. Pray and wait.”

  Cyndi lowered her head to the table. She was waiting—what else could she do? “It’s not enough.”

  “I know, but it’s out of our hands. You know what we can do, though?”

  “What?”

  “Get Joe out of prison.”

  Yesterday it had seemed so important to get justice for the tent city damage. Important enough for her to turn in a friend. What difference did justice make in the long run? But to get him out? He deserved to be in jail. He was guilty. To bail him out was to condone his crime.

  She pressed on her temples. “I don’t know—”

  “We need to help him,” Mike said. “Who else does he have?”

  Who else? Who in the first place. She felt terrible about turning him in, but not that terrible. “I’m tired, babe. I think I’ll lay down for a little while.”

  Cyndi curled up on her bed and tried to rest. The ache of loneliness and helplessness gnawed at her. Loneliness, but not aloneness. So many faces, many without names, people she had served and tried to love swam in her mind. A year ago, they’d been just faces, toothless, ugly people who smelled bad and needed food. Now she saw them as souls, and sometimes she even got a glimpse of how beautiful they could be if given a chance.

  Mike poked his head in the door, and Cyndi’s thoughts scattered like marbles on tile. He went to the closet and took out a clean shirt.

  Cyndi patted the mattress beside her.

  Mike sat next to her and laid a hand over hers. “Feeling any better?”

  “It’s so much all at once.”

  “You really love that girl, don’t you?” He squeezed her hand.

  “More than my own life. I thought I could protect her, but I was helpless. I am helpless.”