Owen passed his remaining pruning saw to Aunt Beth.
“Since you seem to have a full crew, I think I’ll go try to repair my truck heater again. I thought of another trick that might work until we can get downtown and get a replacement unit,” he said.
Tom handed Harriet a retractable tape measure and the pruning saw when they reached the pavement.
“Cut pieces of branch in two-foot lengths. To the degree possible, have the whole length be the same diameter-between one and two inches. I realize the branches are not straight, but do the best you can with them.”
Once the women started working and Tom had proclaimed them trained, he began cutting larger pieces.
“Do you and Owen come this way very often?” Harriet asked Kate as they held opposite ends of a long stick while Lauren sawed on it.
“This is my first time. I’ve only been riding in the truck with Owen for a few months.”
“It must be romantic,” Harriet said. “Going wherever the wind blows you.”
“Not really. You go where the work is, and sometimes you get stuck for days in some truck stop along the interstate, waiting for the next load to be ready.”
“That must wreak havoc with your holidays,” Lauren said.
“Except for the Christmas tree on the truck, we don’t really celebrate the holidays,” Kate admitted.
They worked in silence until they had used all the fallen branches in the immediate vicinity. Lauren straightened her back and stretched.
“I need a bathroom break,” she said and headed for the ladies’ room. A slow drizzle had begun to fall.
“I think I’ll join you,” Harriet said. She’d planned to talk to Lauren about another approach to the Halloween discussion.
An inhuman scream pierced the quiet of the park.
“What was that?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good. We better go check.”
Another agonized scream pierced the air, and their whole group ran for the encampment.
Joyce was wrestling with a highly agitated Brandy when they reached the common area. Tom took over restraining the younger woman, who let loose with another earsplitting shriek.
“Calm down,” he soothed in a neutral voice.
She kicked him in the shin. He pulled her backward and sat on the bench, pulling her onto his lap, his arms wrapped around her. He continued speaking in a calm, steady tone.
“Brandy,” Joyce said in a clear voice. “Stop. Now. This man is not trying to hurt you.” She reached out and took Brandy’s hands and leaned in close to the girl’s face. “Look at me.” When Brandy finally complied, she continued. “What has gotten you into such a twist?”
“He’s dead,” Brandy said in a voice only slightly slurred by alcohol.
“Who is dead?” Joyce asked, keeping a firm grip on her hands.
“The man,” she said, “the man in my bed.”
Harriet looked at Joyce.
“She has delusions sometimes-snakes, spiders, that sort of thing.”
“Not a big stretch, given where we are,” Lauren said in a murmured low enough only Harriet heard her.
“She’s never mentioned a man before,” Joyce continued, “but she does have these spells.”
“If she can calm down, I’ll go check her space, if you think that would help,” Tom offered.
“What are you talking about?” Brandy slurred, her voice rising, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “There is an awful man with blue lips in my bed.”
Joyce looked at Tom and then Harriet and Lauren.
Tom loosened his grip slightly and paused to gauge Brandy’s reaction. When she didn’t move, he released her and stood up, setting her on the bench.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“Brandy, dear,” Joyce said. “Take a deep breath and try to relax. Good. Now another one.”
Harriet was surprised to see Brandy follow Joyce’s instruction, taking several deep breaths then letting them out slowly.
“Now,” Joyce said. “Tell me what happened to frighten you so.”
“After we ate, I went for a walk,” Brandy said in a voice only slightly clearer.
“Right,” Lauren whispered to Harriet. “Straight to her stash of alcohol.”
Harriet poked her with an elbow, silencing her.
“And then what happened?” Joyce continued in her almost hypnotic tone.
“I tried to lie down in my bed.” Tears started to dribble from Brandy’s eyes, mixing with the raindrops.
“You say you tried. What prevented you from lying in your bed? Did a branch fall onto it?” Joyce tightened her grip when Brandy tried to jump up but continued her steady stream of questions.
“Unfortunately, no, it wasn’t a tree,” Tom said. He came to the center of the common area. His face was pale, without its usual hint of humor.
“What?” Harriet asked.
Tom looked at Brandy.
“There is, in fact, a dead man in her bed,” he said quietly.
Lauren and Harriet both started to speak, but he held his hand up.
“It’s Richard.”
Joyce put her arm around Brandy’s shoulders.
“What about Ronald?” she asked.
“He’s in his tent, asleep, but very much alive, earplugs and all-I checked after I saw Richard. I didn’t see any reason to wake him. We don’t need him having a heart attack on top of everything else.”
“You’re sure Richard is dead?” Harriet asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
A vision of Duane’s strangled body flashed through her mind.
“I think we need to leave,” Tom said, “and I suggest you…” to Joyce “…do the same.
Brandy staggered to her feet.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Joyce looked at the others, but if she hoped someone was going to talk Brandy into going, she was disappointed.
“I can’t leave her here by herself,” she said. “She’s vulnerable in this condition.”
“Unless she’s the killer,” Lauren mumbled.
“Would you hush!” Harriet snapped in a low tone. “What about Ronald?”
“What about him?” Lauren countered.
“We need to tell him what’s happened,” Harriet said. “I know he’s not doing well but finding himself alone with a dead body isn’t going to help his heart any.”
“I’ll go get him,” Jorge volunteered.
“We could drive all of you to the church shelter,” Connie offered. “You would be safe there.”
“I’m. Not. Leaving,” Brandy shouted, dragging out each word.
“Calm down,” Joyce said. “No one is making you do anything you don’t want to do.”
They stood in silence until Jorge returned, supporting Ronald with an arm under the older man’s elbow.
“I knew losing my house was going to mean some changes, and I knew there would be some danger in living out-of-doors, but I never imagined this,” Ronald stammered.
“Relax,” Jorge said. “We’re going to take you to the church shelter. You’ll be safe there, and with any luck, they will have someone who can give you medical attention.”
Ronald swiped at his forehead with his hand.
“I think that would be for the best. I thought I was in good condition for a man of my age, but this lifestyle is a little more difficult than I could have guessed.”
“Don’t worry,” Jorge said. “We’ll get you inside, and when downtown is open again, we’ll get you set up with someone who can find you transitional housing of some sort.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
