Chapter Sixteen
Aubrey left the sheltertwenty minutes before six o'clock and turned right toward the parking lot. The moment she headed away from him, Serge stepped out of the BMW to call for her, but something stopped him. Where was she going?
She understood he planned to pick her up after work.
He crossed the road, following her.
The only thing ahead of her was the homeless camp taking up most of a city block. He slowed his pace. No one, not even in the daylight, had any business walking into the homeless camp unless they were indeed homeless and had no life worth risking.
Commonly known as tent-city for the makeshift shelters, questionable livelihood, and territorial thirst, the vagrants who'd claimed the area would not let just anyone wander into their encampment.
A young adult male flashed a light underneath the old Army tent at the entrance, prickling Serge's skin. In ten seconds, everyone would hear that a stranger had come into the encampment.
At one time, he'd had the job of alerting the others, as had his brother and any other teenage kid with good ears and a solid head on his shoulders—not filled with drink or drugs. He wouldn't expect Aubrey to know what was happening around her, but he also hadn't thought her a fool. Everyone in Spokane knew the dangers and how to avoid homeless camps.
For the most part, even the police ignored the city’s non-taxpayers. Legally unable to ask them to move, law enforcement stayed away unless an emergency occurred or someone called because another John or Jane Doe had overdosed or died from exposure. Even then, it was too easy to blame the lifestyle, the elements, or the questionable cause of death on anything but hard living.
With no family and no name, an individual was carted away to be cremated on the state's dime. No service provided for his or her friends, no gravesite, the person merely disappeared. Just like how they lived life. His gaze remained on Aubrey as he took in the rest of the occupants watching her.
Aubrey hesitated at the edge of camp and lifted her hand to shade her eyes against the lowering sun, trying to peer into the deeper regions under the bridge. An old man approached her. Serge forgot about keeping his distance, hurried toward her, and looped into a jog when the man reached for her.
Too far away to hear, he watched her speak to the man and then follow him into the bowels of the camp. The silent alarm went off—the young man reappeared from inside the tent with a shiny blade clutched in his hand. A couple, he guessed in their thirties, approached from the other side of the street and stood between him and Aubrey.
The shaded eyes, hardened by life, warned him without uttering a word. He refused to listen. Aubrey was his primary concern. These people did not instill fear in him.
Living on the streets, protecting what belonged to him was ingrained in him from the time he was ten years old. He could never outrun his past. Once part of the family, the only way he would leave was if he were dead.
He paused in front of the three misfits. No match for his size or skill, he relied on his reputation.
"The Point Ghost," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The young man's eyebrows raised as he controlled his reaction to hearing the name that Serge had used many years ago. The boy, in truth, likely wasn't around at that time, but he had heard the name before.
"We watch," the other man said, stepping back.
He slipped past them. The knife, the weapons, and the defensive stances were no match for his hands, but any of them could kill Aubrey.
He weaved through trash, cardboard huts, and people sprawled out, either knocked out cold or merely sleeping during the day, as it was safe, so they could remain alert at night when the real danger awaited them. He strained to see ahead. He knew no one would help him find Aubrey if he lost sight of her.
At first glance, it seemed as if she'd disappeared. He jumped on top of a wooden crate, hoping it'd withstand his weight.
At the added height, a flash of lavender vanished behind a large pillar. He jumped down and ran. The fabric of his jeans strained against his thighs as he picked up speed.
He caught Aubrey by the arm before she dipped her head below the tarp.
