A Safe Place

by Margaret Watson

  “Maybe not,” he said. “Maybe this scared her.”

  “That’s why I quit the Vipers,” the boy said, his focus moving to the building again. “Me and Mama made a deal—I’d quit the Vipers and she’d get clean.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Guess the deal’s off now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Cal said. “We’ll get her into rehab when she’s better. They’ll help her clean up.”

  “I told you before. She don’t want to go to rehab. It’s nothing but a lot of crap.”

  “We’ll find someplace good. Someplace that will help her.” He’d make sure of it.

  “Ain’t no place can help my mama.” Ramon shoved past him and strode to the entrance, tapped out a complicated pattern. The door opened, spreading a rectangle of light onto the sidewalk. Ramon stepped inside and the locks clicked back into place.

  Voices rose from behind the whitewashed windows. It was hard to tell if they were welcoming or threatening.

  Frankie stood next to Cal, her fist pressed against her mouth as if she was trying to hold back a scream. “We have to get him out of there,” she said, her eyes pleading.

  She was practically vibrating.

  Cal needed to get her out of this world of gangs and violence. He needed to keep her safe.

  He curled his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the truck. She resisted, as if she intended to stand on the sidewalk until Ramon walked out again. Cal held on more tightly before lifting her into the seat. She weighed next to nothing, and he held her close for a moment before he set her down.

  Once she was safely in the truck, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He scanned the area again, saw no one, then went around to the driver’s seat.

  He started the engine, but she grabbed his arm. “We can’t leave,” she said. “Not while he’s inside.”

  “We can’t sit here all night, Frankie.” Cal brushed her cheek with his thumb. “All we can do is hope some of what you said sank in. That he thinks twice before he goes gunning for the dealer.”

  Cal put the truck in gear, made a U-turn and headed toward FreeZone before she could convince him to stay. If she used those blue eyes on him and begged him to wait, he might give in.

  She was staring over her shoulder, as if her gaze could draw Ramon outside.

  “I’ll go to the hospital in the morning and see if he shows up,” Cal said.

  At that she turned around. “You can’t. You have to do your rehab.”

  “I’ll do it afterward. My knee is getting better. I don’t have to do as much every day.”

  That was a lie, but once he said he’d try to find the kid, he couldn’t take it back.

  She frowned. “You’re still limping.”

  “The hell I am.”

  “I’ve seen you.”

  “After rehab. Of course my knee’s sore then.”

  “Cal.” She laid her hand on his arm, and he felt the pressure of every finger. “I can’t let you do that. I’ll go myself.”

  “You have a job.”

  “I’ll start early and go to the hospital when I’m done.”

  They turned onto Broadway, and Cal relaxed a little more. There were people on the sidewalks, and a couple of bars were doing good business. Noise and light spilled into the street.

  They were coming up to the church where she parked her car, and he slowed down. He didn’t want to drop her off and drive away. Part of him was afraid she’d go right back to the Vipers’ place.

  Mostly he didn’t want her to be alone.

  “You want to get—” he began, but she grabbed his arm.

  “Pull over. There’s someone at the door of FreeZone.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “IT’S PROBABLY a homeless guy,” Cal said. But he pulled over, anyway. “Stay here and I’ll go check.”

  “Like I’ve never seen a homeless person before? I’m coming with you.”

  “Damn it, Frankie! Do you ever look before you leap? You have no idea who that is. What if he’s a drunk? Or high? Or trying to break into FreeZone? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “It might be one of my kids,” she said calmly.

  “If it is, I’ll call you over. Let me handle this one, Rambo.”

  Cal stared at her until she nodded reluctantly, then he climbed out of the truck.

  It was quieter on this block. There were fewer stores, fewer pedestrians. A fast-food wrapper blew by in the wind. It tumbled over the curb and into the gutter in a splash of dirty yellow.

  The person in the doorway of FreeZone had huddled as far away from the sidewalk as possible. Whoever it was wore a ragged, dark blue knit cap and a brown jacket several sizes too big.

  As Cal got closer, he saw the young face, as well as long hair spilling from the cap. It was a woman.

  A girl, he realized. She clutched a backpack to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around it. Her eyes were closed and her head leaned against the door frame at an uncomfortable angle.

  The kid’s neck would be sore when she woke up.

  He turned to the truck and motioned for Frankie.

  She hurried over and studied the young woman. “Someone you know?” he asked.

  “No. She’s never been here.” Frankie crouched a couple of feet away from her. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

  The girl stirred, but only straightened her head. She was thin and gaunt. The hair exposed by her cap was tangled and greasy-looking, as if it hadn’t been washed in ages. Her fingernails were dirty and broken.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Frankie said. “Wake up.”

  The girl awakened with a start. When she saw Cal and Frankie, she leaped to her feet and tightened her grip on the backpack, holding it in front of her. “Leave me alone,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I’ll scream.”

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Frankie said. “What are you doing here?”

  The girl looked from one of them to the other, her eyes fearful. “Waiting for this place to open.” She sounded defiant. Scared.

  “This is an after-school program,” Frankie said gently. “It won’t be open until tomorrow afternoon. You need a teen shelter. There’s one a couple of blocks away.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not going to that place. This is where I need to be. Someone told me they help kids. I need help.”

  Frankie sat on the sidewalk in front of the girl. She glanced at Cal, and he read her perfectly. She wanted him on the sidewalk, too, where he’d be less threatening. But his knee wasn’t going to cooperate. If he managed to get into that position, Frankie would have to help him stand up again.

  No way would he humiliate himself that way.

  He moved away slightly so he wasn’t in the girl’s space, but still close enough that he could react if Frankie needed him. She glanced at his knee, gave a tiny nod, then turned back to the girl.

  “What kind of help do you need?”

  She looked from him to Frankie, her hands scrabbling on the backpack. She flexed her ankles, getting ready to run.

  “What’s your name?” Frankie asked.

  The girl licked her lips. “Martha.”

  “Okay, Martha. I’m Frankie, and this is Cal. What can we do for you?”

  The girl’s glance dropped. Then, bracing her hand against the door, she lowered the backpack to her side.

  Revealing a very pregnant belly.

  FRANKIE SUCKED IN A BREATH. Homeless and pregnant? And she couldn’t be older than sixteen. “Oh, honey,” she said softly. “How far along are you?”

  Martha touched the bulge of her belly through her heavy jacket. “I think six months.”

  She thought? So she hadn’t seen a docto
r. “And how long have you been on the street?”

  The girl looked down at the pavement and fingered the backpack. “About a month.”

  The memories crashed over Frankie in a wave. Cold. Hungry. Lonely.

  Scared. She’d been tense and frightened every minute she’d been on the street.

  Above everything else, she could still taste the fear.

  “You should go to the teen shelter,” she told Martha. “They have resources to help. They’ll get you to a doctor, contact your parents if that’s what you want, find you a place to stay.” She glanced at Cal, who’d shifted closer to the girl, as if trying to protect her. “We’ll take you there, if you like.”

  Martha shook her head emphatically. “I’m not going there.”

  “How come?” Frankie forced herself to maintain a conversational tone. “Did someone there…hurt you?”

  “I’m not going to the shelter,” Martha repeated, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for an escape route.

  Something bad had happened at the shelter. Frankie consciously relaxed her fists. “Okay, sweetie. No one’s going to force you.”

  “Is there anyone who can take care of you?” Cal asked.

  “No.” The girl slung her backpack onto her shoulders, pulled her hat down over her ears and stepped away from the door. “A guy told me I could stay here, but I guess he lied. So I’m good. I don’t want to bother you.”

  Frankie stood and moved into Martha’s path to prevent her running away. “You’re not bothering us,” she said. “This is my center. That’s why we stopped. We saw you and we were concerned.” She took a small step closer. “It’s not an overnight place, but we’ll do what we can for you. What about your baby’s father? Is he someone you can trust? Maybe stay with him if he has somewhere safe?”

  Martha suddenly looked far too old. “No.”

  She gathered herself, as if preparing to run, and Cal leaned against the window, clearly trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. “You look hungry,” he said. “You want to get something to eat?”

  Martha licked her lips. “I’ll, uh, get something down the street.”

  “Frankie and I haven’t had dinner yet, either,” Cal said. “We were thinking pizza. That sound okay?”

  The desperation in the girl’s eyes was painful. “Pizza?”

  “There’s a good place a few blocks from here,” Frankie said, flashing Cal a silent thank-you.

  “Lenzoni’s.” Martha licked her lips. “Sometimes, if we go to the back door, the cooks give us pizzas they burned, or that someone didn’t pick up.”

  Cal nodded. “Tonight, you can sit in the front and order whatever you want.”

  “Maybe.” Martha looked from Frankie to Cal, hope blooming slowly in her expression. “But I’m not going to the teen shelter. Got it?”

  “We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Martha.”

  “We’re parked right up the street,” Cal said.

  Martha clutched her backpack closer. “I’m not getting in any car.”

  Cal opened his mouth to argue, but Frankie cut him off. “I understand. We’ll walk.”

  “EXCUSE ME, PLEASE. I need to use the restroom.”

  Martha got up from the table, grabbed her backpack and headed for the ladies’ room. Just before she rounded the corner, she glanced over her shoulder at Frankie and Cal.

  Frankie watched until she disappeared, then turned to him. “I know this isn’t the way you wanted to spend your evening. Thank you.”

  “You think I’d let a pregnant kid sleep in a doorway?”

  “Of course not. But you convinced her to come and eat with us. She was getting ready to run when you mentioned pizza.”

  “Probably not the healthiest food for the baby. But no teen can resist pizza.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “It was better than letting her take off. She needed to eat.”

  Frankie looked at Martha’s plate, where five crusts were neatly lined up. “She was hungry.”

  “Poor kid.” While they’d waited for the pizza, Martha had guzzled two glasses of milk and told them a little bit about being on the street. She and two other girls and four boys had been staying in an abandoned building, scavenging food and struggling to survive. When Frankie asked her why she’d come looking for help tonight, she’d bent her head and concentrated on the pizza.

  Cal glanced toward the bathroom. “So what do we do now?”

  “I know the woman who runs Hope House. It’s a shelter for runaway pregnant teens. She might not have room, but it’s the kind of place Martha needs. Annie is the kindest soul in the world and completely nonjudgmental.”

  “If you can convince Martha to go there.”

  “If I can’t, I’ll take her home with me,” she said. Her couch would seem luxurious to someone who’d been sleeping in an abandoned building. Frankie knew exactly how uncomfortable and scary an old, run-down structure could be.

  “No way.” Cal swiveled to face her. “You know nothing about this kid. You can’t take her into your apartment.”

  “I can’t leave her on the street, either.”

  He sighed and slouched in his chair. “Have you heard anything sketchy about that teen shelter?”

  “No, but I probably wouldn’t. None of my kids are homeless. Doesn’t matter, though. I can’t force her to go there.”

  “I hope this woman has room for her, then.” The tiny lines around Cal’s eyes seemed deeper. As if he was exhausted.

  And why wouldn’t he be? He’d spent the morning doing rehab, been at FreeZone all afternoon, then dedicated his evening to chasing Ramon and now feeding a homeless kid.

  Frankie touched his hand. “I’m glad you were with me tonight, even though you’re probably not.”

  He turned his palm up, joining their fingers. “So am I.” Their shoulders brushed, and she wanted to lean into him. To absorb some of his strength.

  As if he could read her mind, he gripped her hand more tightly. Frankie realized she was swaying toward him. She drew her hand away.

  Cal cleared his throat and nodded toward the restrooms. “Hasn’t she been in there a long time?”

  “Damn it.” Frankie jumped up and ran along the hallway. At the end of it, Martha was trying frantically to unlock the dead bolt on the alley door.

  “Martha.” She stopped several feet away from the girl, who spun around, her back pressed against the wall.

  “Hey, thanks for the pizza. It was awesome. But I need to split.” She attempted a smile, but her eyes were desolate. “The guys where I’m staying will be worried about me.”

  “This place you’re staying. Is it safe?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Safe enough.” But she didn’t meet Frankie’s gaze.

  “You get to choose where you go, Martha. We’re not going to force you anywhere.” She took a careful step closer. “But have you heard of Hope House? It’s a home for pregnant girls who have nowhere else to stay.”

  “No.” Martha’s expression was wary. “I know most of the places around here.”

  “It isn’t in this neighborhood. It’s farther west.”

  “Who runs it?”

  What had happened to Martha? On the street, there were predators waiting to pounce on the weak and vulnerable. But this was worse. Martha didn’t trust the people whose job it was to protect homeless kids.

  Frankie thought of Bascombe. Sometimes the predators come disguised as friends.

  “Her name is Annie. She’s about a million years old, but she takes good care of her girls. She gets them to the doctor for their appointments, makes sure they eat well and helps them with school.” Frankie waited, watching the myriad expressions flit across the girl’s face. Fear. Wariness. A f
aint hint of hope.

  “I don’t know,” Martha said.

  “Why don’t you let me and Cal take you there? We won’t leave until you’re sure it will work for you. If you don’t feel comfortable there, we’ll think of something else.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll have to drive,” Frankie said carefully. “It’s too far to walk.”

  Martha played with the backpack strap. “You’ll leave the car doors unlocked?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll check it out.”

  Frankie’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. Let’s go tell Cal.” As they walked toward their table, Frankie saw Cal massaging his leg above his knee. He’d been shifting it while they ate, as if it was bothering him. And he hadn’t been able to sit on the sidewalk earlier.

  She wasn’t about to let him walk all the way back to his car.

  When Martha sat down, Frankie put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Martha would like to meet Annie. Why don’t you stay here with her and pay the bill, and I’ll get my car so I can drive her over there. You can go home if you want.”

  Cal’s shoulder tensed beneath her hand, but he gave her a lazy grin. “You trying to dump me?” He glanced at Martha and winked. “Martha wants me to stay. She thinks I’m big and dumb, but cute and maybe marginally helpful.” He flashed his dimples at the girl. “Right?”

  Martha’s giggle shocked Frankie. “Yeah. I want Cal to come, too.”

  “Um, okay.” Was there a woman alive who was immune to Cal’s charm? “But I’ll still get my car.”

  Cal started to rise, but she pressed on his shoulder to hold him in place. When he looked up, she nodded toward his leg.

  His mouth tightened, but she held his gaze. Finally, he pulled the keys to his truck out of his pocket. “Get mine instead. Martha would be embarrassed to be seen in that heap of yours.”

  He was letting her help him. Acknowledging he needed help. Frankie’s heart fluttered, but she managed an easy smile. “My car will be insulted, but I guess she’ll survive. I’ll be right back.”