I looked up at the boarded window, the same window I’d thrown a brick through to get the man to stop. I looked to the side between the buildings where Gemma and I had run when the man came after us. I looked at the steps I’d taken the next day when I went back and found out from an angry landlady that the family in 2C had moved out during the night, stiffing her for two months’ rent and a broken window.
Stepping out of Misery, I closed the door and stared for a very long time as memory after memory flooded my senses, tightened my chest. The crisp night kept me alert as several sets of eyes locked on to me. Most were homeless, hidden in the shadows of the apartment building and the abandoned school behind me. A couple others most likely belonged to gang members curious about my reason for being there. I offered none of them my attention. I just stared at the window. It had been so bright that night, illuminated with a sickly yellow as Earl Walker pummeled a boy named Reyes. Counting back, Reyes had to have been about eighteen at the time. I was fifteen. Young. Impressionable. Ready to save the world with my super reaper powers. Yet the only thing I could do to save him was throw a brick from the abandoned school through the window.
It worked. Earl stopped hitting him and came after us.
If I had called the police that night, if Reyes had let me, I doubt I would’ve been standing here at this moment. I doubt Reyes would have gone to prison for killing Earl. Surely Children, Youth, and Family would’ve taken Reyes and Kim out of that situation. Surely they would have been safe.
With nothing to lose and hours before dawn, I grabbed a flashlight and a tire iron—partly for breaking and entering and partly for protection—and headed up the steps. The metal door had definitely seen better days, and it didn’t take me long to gain access. I was certain the homeless people in the area had been entering the building the same way for months, possibly years. The entrance opened up to the second floor. The floor beneath sat half underground. And 2C was directly on my left. I stepped over trash, debris, and a couple sets of legs, careful not to shine the light directly in the faces of the people lining the walls, until I came to a door with half a 2 nailed to it and the unpainted remnants of a C.
“I wouldn’t go in there, missy.”
I turned to a voice echoing down the hall and raised the light. A woman sat wrapped in several layers of clothes, a shopping cart turned over beside her to protect her meager belongings. Or she needed driving lessons. She raised her hand to shield the light, and I immediately lowered it. I didn’t need it anyway. Not for her.
“Sorry about that,” I said, indicating the light as I aimed it to the side.
“Don’t be sorry to me,” she said, “it’s just that’s Miss Faye’s place, and she don’t take kindly to no visitors.”
“Should I knock?” I asked, only half serious. The acrid smell that hit me when I’d entered snaked around me like a poisonous gas, and I couldn’t decide which would be worse—breathing through my mouth or nose.
The woman chuckled. “Sure. Knock. Ain’t gonna help, but you go right ahead.”
“Have you ever heard of a Harold Reynolds?” I asked, again only half serious.
“Nope. Why you asking?”
“’Cause I’m looking for him. He used to live here.” I lifted the lapel of my leather jacket and covered the lower half of my face, hoping it would help. It didn’t.
“Oh, then you need to ask Miss Faye for sure. She used to run the place. Still thinks she does.”
In a flash, I realized who Miss Faye had to be. The landlady’s name all those years ago had been Faye. “I think I remember her.”
“Yeah?”
“Bleached blond hair? Resembles death warmed over?”
She chuckled again. “That’s her. You go on about your knocking, now. I could use me a good laugh.”
That didn’t sound promising, but the thought of actually talking to that landlady again had my pulse racing in anticipation. Maybe she knew where Earl Walker had moved off to after he left here. She hadn’t been much help when I was fifteen, but the possibility was worth a shot. I raised my hand to the door, and the woman started cackling in excitement, apparently readying herself to be entertained. How bad could Miss Faye be? She’d had one foot in the grave the first time I’d spoken to her, and that was over ten years ago. Surely, with a little luck, I could take her.
About half a second after my knuckles made first contact, something crashed against the door, loud enough to startle the bejesus out of me. I ducked and stumbled back before raising the light first to the door, then back to the woman.
“What the hell was that?”
She laughed some more, holding on to her sides, then managed to say, “Soup, sounded like.”
I frowned and glanced back at the door. “That didn’t sound like soup to me, unless it was a few weeks old.”
“In the can. You know, ’fore it’s made.”
“Oh, right, a can of soup. Wonderful,” I said, complaining. “This place is like crazy on crackers.”
The woman rolled onto her side with laughter. Normally, I liked making people laugh, but all I could seem to muster was a look of concern as I stepped back to the door and tried the knob.
“You still going in there?” she asked, her astonishment cutting the cackle-fest short.
“That’s the plan.” I turned back to her. “What do you think my chances are?”
She waved a hand. “She just likes to throw things. Her aim’s wretched. Likely, she won’t hit you if you run fast enough.”
“Her aim sounded pretty good from here.”
“Yeah, well, she gets lucky sometimes.”
“Great.”
Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. I raised one arm to cover my face, then cracked the door open. “Miss Faye?” I said through the opening.
Another can crashed against the door, slamming it shut, and the cackling started again. I’d have to make a run for it, possibly do a zigzag sprint until I found cover inside. I turned back to the woman and offered a sympathetic smile.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Tennessee,” she said, pride brightening her aura.
“Okay.” That was an odd name for a woman if ever I heard one. “Well, Tennessee, you can cross through me if you’d like.”
A toothless grin flashed across her face. “I think I’ll stay a bit. I’m waiting on Miss Faye. I reckon she won’t be much longer.”