Stranger in the Night (6 page)

“What about Terell?”

“He’s an ex-offender. That gives him a lot of street cred. They know he can take care of himself. He uses his past to relate to the kids, but he doesn’t want to get mixed up in the gang thing. I’ve got the military training, so I mostly handle it.”

“Do the Hypes respect you, too?”

“Mo Ded doesn’t give a rip about
anyone.
He’s had his people loitering right outside Haven, inviting some of my best boys to jump off the porch.”

“Join up?”

“That’s right. Most gangs require a kid to join by beating in—walking between two lines or standing inside a circle of gang members who beat him to a pulp. But to get into the Hypes, you have to go on a mission.”

“Military term.”

“Worse. Mo Ded’s favorite technique—he makes a boy put a blue rag on his head, dress all in blue and walk through a Blood neighborhood. Or wear red and walk through Crips turf. If the kid survives, he’s a Hype.”

“What age are we talking about?” Joshua asked.

“Around here, any boy over twelve either owns or shares a gun. Mo Ded starts them out at eleven.”

Joshua shook his head as he unfolded the white T-shirt Sam had given him. “Reminds me of child soldiers in Africa. Sudan and Rwanda.”

“Don’t forget Paganda. As bad as he’s had it, Pastor Stephen thanks God his sons weren’t forced to fight for the rebels.”

“The ones who were killed?”

“They end up dead either way. At least with a massacre, the suffering is short. In these African countries or in the kind of war you and I fought against terrorists, the only way to win is to eliminate the enemy. That or be eliminated yourself. You know what I’m saying, Duff. There’s no middle
ground. It’s the same here in St. Louis. According to gang code, the only way to get rid of another gang is to kill all the members.”

“That’s genocide.”

“Welcome to my world.”

Joshua let out a breath. “Hatred. It’s a grown man’s game. Why are these gangs recruiting kids so young?”

“Same reason al-Qaeda straps explosives to children and sends them into marketplaces on suicide missions. Talk to your new friend at the refugee agency about child soldiers in Africa.”

Uncomfortable at the mention of the woman, Joshua began putting on the T-shirt. He tried to work his arms through the sleeves. “Do you know Liz?”

“Pastor Stephen told me about your encounter at Refugee Hope. He and I had a long talk this afternoon. Stephen Rudi may be Pagandan, but he understands St. Louis.”

“Yo, Hawke. This shirt’s too small.”

“One size fits all.” Sam studied his friend for a moment. “Still got the six-pack abs, I see. I’d better not let you get too close to Ana.”

“When am I going to meet this fiancée of yours, anyway?” Joshua said, wincing at the tight fit around his shoulders. He rolled the shirt down over his chest, but he knew the thing would never stay tucked into his jeans. Slouch time for the ol’ Marine sergeant. He would have to get used to it.

“She’ll be around,” Sam told him. “Ana teaches a creative writing class on Saturdays, but I’ve stopped encouraging her to come over here much. Too dangerous. I go to her place if we want time alone. We cook dinner, watch a little TV. It’s a nice break from the smell of sweat socks and dirty sneakers.”

“What about Terell? Does he have a woman?”

“His church hired a new youth director last month—lovely lady named Joette. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s got a
former NBA star in her future. And you? Anyone out there in the battle zone catch your attention?”

“Plenty. But you know me. Careful.” He decided it was time to change the subject. “Let’s go catch some of the action.”

Sam indicated the door, and the two men stepped out of the office. The basketball court swarmed with players. Whistles blew, the buttery aroma of popcorn drifted in the air, kids shouted. A toddler wandered out of one of the small classrooms. Smeared with blue paint, he looked around, lost. His face wrinkled into the start of a wail. Just then, a teenage girl sailed out of the room, snagged the child with one long arm and hauled him back to safety.

Too many kiddos, Joshua realized. This place could make a real impact, but not without more space. Sam had mentioned an idea to turn the parking lot outside into a basketball court and playground. Good plan if the gangs would leave them alone.

“No girlfriend?” Sam wasn’t going to let it drop. “Come on, Duff. You’re not getting any younger. Doesn’t daddy want his boy back in Amarillo pumping oil and raising heirs?”

“He’d like nothing better than to see me build a house right down the road, get married and do the whole Duff-Flannigan Oil thing just like my big brother. No doubt the younger Duff boys will fall in line. I’ve been the black sheep.”

“The lone ranger.” Sam clapped Joshua on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve got your hands full right now. Those Pagandans are quite a bunch. I like Stephen Rudi. You won’t believe what he wants to do in St. Louis.”

Joshua glanced at his friend. He hadn’t had time to look in on the family since returning from his trip to the airport with Liz. Her wariness about his undertaking had put him on guard.

“Reverend Rudi had better be happy to work for minimum wage,” he told Sam. “That’s all I can find for him around here. The wife doesn’t speak a word—English or anything else—that
I can see. She’s a walking shell. No telling what the woman went through before they got together. The little girl will have to go to school. Maybe the boy, too. What did Stephen tell you?”

“He wants to start a church.”

Joshua scowled. “No way.”

“He’s dead serious. He believes God spared the family from genocide, brought them to the States and plans to use them to further the Kingdom right here in St. Louis. The man practically had Terell and me on our knees this afternoon right in the middle of a basketball game. He’s pretty magnetic.”

“Magnetism won’t pay bills.” Joshua studied the busy room. “Listen, Sam, I want to get the family hooked into the system here as fast as I can. I admire what you’re doing at Haven, but it’s not for me. I need to get on with my life. Got any idea how I can plug Pastor Stephen into a job?”

“We can find him work, but what about you, Duff? You don’t want to sit behind a desk and count money for the rest of your life.”

“Nothing wrong with money as long as it’s used right. I don’t know about that desk, though. You know me—I’m a hands-on man. I like getting down and gritty with people, working to change lives.”

“Sounds like what we do at Haven. Why are you on the run?”

“Not sure. I have a few things to figure out.” Joshua ran a finger around the neck of the T-shirt. “I’m no social worker, that’s for sure.”

“You’re not Recon anymore, either. I doubt you’ll bust up any al-Qaeda cells in Amarillo. Why not stick around here? We’ve got Mo Ded and his brand of terrorists right outside these doors to keep things interesting. There’s a lot more to Haven than social work, and we could use another man the kids can look up to. I’m starting to think we need a liaison with the refugee community, too. Maybe that could be you.”

“Nah. The social worker at Refugee Hope showed me the error of my well-meaning ways. The things that go into resettling these people—it’s more than one guy can do.”

“Come on, Duff. I know you too well. You’d take on a challenge like that any day.” Sam assessed his friend. “What’s up with you? You’ve done a one-eighty since this morning.”

Joshua focused on a group of youngsters carrying stacks of freshly laundered and folded white T-shirts toward the office. The last thing he wanted to admit was the way Liz had affected him. Five minutes, and she’d had him in overdrive. Not just her looks, either. They had clicked big-time. She knew it, too.

But it wouldn’t work. She was headed to Africa. He was expected in Texas.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said finally. “This place is messing with my mind.”

“It’s not St. Louis. The war did a number on your brain. If you’re like me, you’ve still got one foot in the sand.”

Joshua recalled his nightmare. “I need to take care of the Rudis and move on.”

“You can’t escape it, man. What else is bothering you?”

“Want the truth?” He chuckled. “
Women
—the only way I can think to get my head out of combat mode.”

“Ana’s got friends. Or how about that caseworker? Pastor Stephen said you looked at her like you planned to marry her.”

“
Marry
her? Are you kidding me?”

“Like I said, the man is…insightful.
Intense
might be a better word. So what’s the lady’s name?”

“Liz Wallace. Gorgeous but on her way to some UN job in Africa. All day I’ve either been avoiding imaginary land mines or trying to figure out how to get that woman into my arms. Neither one good. I need to focus on the Rudis—find that missing brother, get Pastor Stephen a job, enroll the kids in
school, locate an apartment and get them set up. All without letting myself get tangled in a pretty missionary’s curls.”

“Now there’s an assignment worthy of the Sergeant Duff I met on a dusty base in Iraq.”

“I’d rather hunt terrorists.”

As Sam laughed, Joshua decided it was time to cut the chitchat. He needed to find the little minister and his wife. Sam beat him to the punch.

“Pastor Stephen is in one of the classrooms. Said he wanted to start teaching Bible stories to the children. He’s that way.”

Joshua set off in the direction Sam had indicated. He definitely did not want to marry Liz Wallace—or any other woman. Not soon, anyway. He’d have to set the Rev. Stephen Rudi straight on that point. As well as a few others.

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.