Faye decided it was time for her to be the one asking the questions.
“Is that why you work at the summer lunch program?”
“Yes. Well, I volunteer when they need me, which is a lot these days. It’s work that actually does something for people. I’m happy to give them some of my time.”
“And that’s why you teach? Because you like to help people? You seem like a capable man. I feel sure you could get a job that pays better.”
Walt’s face softened. “Yeah. I teach because I want to help people, and I do it here because this is where I live. I want to help my neighbors’ kids.”
“Well, I’m here to do a job that I need quite a lot, and I hired five young people to help me who really need the jobs. I’m working through a local man, Jeremiah Hamilton.”
“I know Jeremiah.”
“Then maybe you know that he’s associated with a nonprofit that helps disadvantaged young people from…”
“From places like this?” Walt asked.
Faye realized that she’d just firmly slapped Walt’s home with the label “disadvantaged.” Not good. At least she hadn’t called it “the inner city.” Her misstep embarrassed her, but it hardly mattered. Walt seemed to have hated her on sight, anyway. She might as well plunge ahead.
“Yes, I guess I do mean ‘places like this.’ Jeremiah finds jobs for his kids. He teaches them to do job interviews and helps them find the right clothes for work. He knows all the local college admissions people. He hires at the community college, then he helps his workers with their applications for a four-year degree. He gets their application fees waived or he finds the money to cover them. I’m here because of him and I brought jobs with me. When he heard I’d gotten the Sweetgum State Park job, he wrote me, out of the blue, and told me he had a proposition.”
“A proposition? Ain’t nobody ever told you not to listen to fast-talking men?” Sylvia jammed her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels “I know Jeremiah, too. He says a lot of things. You believe him when he talks?”
“A proposition for my firm, not for me. He knew I’d need technicians for this job and he wanted me to subcontract that work through his nonprofit. I interviewed Jeremiah pretty hard before I signed a contract with him to provide me with labor for this job. He convinced me that I could get my work done while doing something good for somebody else. Does any of this bother you, Mr. Walker? Am I such a do-gooder that you want me to close down my project and go home? Do you want me to go back to Florida and hand those jobs over to somebody who won’t want to waste energy helping kids?”
Laneer appeared at the corner of the house, but Walt didn’t see him. He was too busy venting his frustrations at the expense of a woman he’d just met.
“No, stay,” he said, his mouth curled into a sneer. “By all means, stay. I’m sure you can single-handedly save those kids. I can sure see that you think you can save Kali. But why stop there? If Kali needs you so much, then what about every kid on the street? What makes her special? Take them home. Take them all home. Adopt them. Maybe that will make the guilt go away.”
“What guilt?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Maybe Faye did. She reflexively glanced up and down the street, revealing herself to Walt as she took in peeling paint, iron-barred windows, and signs announcing that people should keep the hell out. She’d never felt rich and she’d sometimes felt poor, but she’d never lived in a place like this.
Walt saw her and his smile turned triumphant, but Laneer interrupted him before he could use the troubled expression in Faye’s eyes against her.
Laneer’s face said, “Would you people pay attention?” but his voice said only, “We’ve got company.”
Little Kali stood on the front porch. “I’m going home. I’ve gotta find my mama.”
The child was fast, but Faye already knew that. She’d already spent a morning chasing her down a creek, struggling to keep up with short legs that were all muscle and no fat.
Laneer was a bit too old to be that fast, and Sylvia was a bit too heavy. Walt had long legs and he moved like a man who ran for fun, so he was going to beat them all to the little girl. Something inside Faye hated that, so she put on some more speed.
She wasn’t keeping up with Walt and she certainly wasn’t catching up with Kali, but she was holding her own until her phone rang. She tugged it out of her pocket, planning to just glance at the phone but let it roll over to voice mail, unless the name on its screen made her think the call was important.
Caller ID said that Detective McDaniel was trying to get hold of her, so Faye reluctantly shifted down to a walk and put the phone to her ear.
“Is the little girl up yet? I’m coming to talk to her.”
“Oh, she’s up. And running, but I’m right behind her. She’s going back to her house, looking for her mother. Somebody’s going to have to tell her what happened, just as soon as we catch up with her, so come quick.”
“Oh, I’m not just coming. I’m already there.”
As Faye rounded a curve in the road, she looked past the running child and found the white house she was running toward. McDaniel was standing on Frida’s doorstep and there was another man beside him. McDaniel was still wearing the polo shirt and khakis Faye had seen on him earlier. The second man was in a suit.
Clad in black from head to toe, the
