“Did you find your lunch?”
I shook my head. Constantine didn’t believe in introductions or preliminaries. “Hi, Constantine. Now, what are you talking about? What lunch?”
“Woman, did you not check the backseat? What kind of soldier are you? There could have been a bomb back there, and you would be gone.”
Why was he so dramatic? I leaned between the seats and spotted a little cooler behind the driver’s seat. It was at an odd angle, and I struggled to get it out. Of course, if I got out of the car and opened the back door, it would have been easy. That was too normal, so I struggled instead.
“OK, I got the cooler. What’s in it?”
“Just open the darn thing.” Constantine was not amused.
“After that whole speech about bombs, this could be a trick.” Constantine had a way of making me paranoid.
“Now you want to be careful. Just eat your lunch, and don’t die. Did you find anything?” Constantine waited patiently.
I opened the cooler and found an iced tea, still cold, and a tomato, cheese, and avocado sandwich on a gluten-free bun. I ripped the waxed paper off and took a bite.
“Found nothing good. Oh, wow, this is delicious.” I was so rude talking with my mouth full, but I couldn’t help it. I was starving.
“Yeah, yeah. Bartholomew made it for you before he went to bed. He said you probably would not have time to eat, with all the places on your list. He’s a good kid.” I had a feeling Constantine wasn’t so sure how good I was.
“I’ve got one more place to go before heading back. Do I need to pick up anything?” I could suck up to Constantine as well.
“Are you sucking up to me?”
“Me? Of course not.” Damn, he was good. So not fair.
“Right…just be careful, and don’t harm Bumblebee. Bartholomew is searching for empty lots where they could be hiding the people before the ceremony date.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
Just like that, he hung up. He didn’t say hello or goodbye. We really needed to work on his manners. What did he mean by hiding the people? They were not taking them to the other place right away? This was getting worse by the minute.
Bless Bartholomew; he was my hero. He had even given me an apple. I was planning to finish my lunch before I headed to the Friendship Center. The last thing I needed was to walk in there with my stomach grumbling. I needed info, not food.
Chapter 19
I walked over to the Friendship Center. The place was one block down from Randy Sam’s and across from the library. I knew very little about the center or their mission. According to Bartholomew’s handy little notes, they were more than just a soup kitchen. The center provided training for those who wanted to get back into the job market, as well as after-school programs. I realized I knew very little about Texarkana. The city had a lot of support for people in need, if you knew where to look. I guessed it was the same way in most major cities.
Unfortunately, by the time I got there, the center was closed. Maybe I should have checked them out sooner instead of spying on Randy Sam’s. If the blonde was coming out looking around, I didn’t need for her to call the cops. If people were missing, the last thing I needed was to get locked up for suspicious behavior. She did look more credible than I did. I was the one outside her business asking weird questions.
I crossed the Friendship Center off and decided to head to the Salvation Army.
I admitted to myself, all these places were pretty close to one another. All were within a five-minute drive or a ten- to fifteen-minute walk from the others—a good way to make resources easily available to the needy, or a good way to keep them all segregated to one location. OK, I had no idea where I stood on the matter of the homeless in America. I had a hard time understanding how the greatest nation in this world had this much poverty. I guessed I should add that subject to my list of reflections.
I had never been to the Salvation Army either. I was feeling like a bad member of society. I wasn’t volunteering or aiding people in any way. At the same time, when you were struggling from paycheck to paycheck, it was hard to look out for the needy. If I didn’t die in this case, maybe I could actually help somewhere.
The Salvation Army comprised two large buildings sitting at Fourth Street and Hazel. I was pretty sure I had passed it on my way to Randy Sam’s from Saint Ed’s. Maybe Constantine was right and I was losing my touch at paying attention to my surroundings. I had developed tunnel vision and was missing details. I had no idea where I was going, so I tried the first building with open doors. An older man sat behind the reception desk.
“Hi, Miss. How can I help you?” He had a friendly smile and a hint of a southern accent. Anytime I lived in a place for a while, I stopped hearing people’s accents. So his must have been really pronounced for me to notice.
“Good afternoon, sir. I was looking for my friend and wondered if you had seen him. His name is Bob, and he’s about six feet tall and maybe two hundred pounds.” Next time I was getting a picture of Bob. This was ridiculous.
“Sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any Bobs at this time. Weird, it’s such a common name. But things have been weird lately.” He stared at the door pensively. I looked over my shoulder, wondering what I was missing.
“Are you OK, sir?” Why beat around the bush?
“Texarkana is a midpoint. People pass through this town all the time. We normally get people with no place to stay who are heading west to
