Page 30 of Mountains Divide Us

“Jesus, Abey.”

She appeared out of nowhere, holding her hands out for her skinny white-mocha latte with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top. “What planet are you on, man? I’ve been sayin’ your name for, like, three whole minutes.”

I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even realized I’d crossed the street and was back inside the station.

Handing over her coffee and lemon scone, I complained, “You know, orderin’ that bullshit makes me look bad. I wouldn’t drink that syrupy crap if you paid me.”

“Oh, don’t I know it, Mr. Gym Rat.”

“There’s no gym in Wisper.”

“Sure there is. It’s in your extra bedroom.”

Shrugging, I admitted to it. “Sue me for takin’ care of myself. You’re twenty years younger than me, and I could run circles around you. All that processed crap you ingest every day’s makin’ you old before your time. You just can’t see it yet.”

Abey gasped, clutching her chest like a damsel from some fairy tale. “Don’t you let José hear you say that. You’ll break the poor man’s heart since I’m on a steady diet of his spicy chili. He makes it from scratch every day, and you know it.” She smirked. An annoying twinkle danced in her eye, and my hackles went up. “Did you see Sam?”

Glaring at her, I accused her, “Is that why you insisted on me goin’ to get your coffee? You were tryin’ to set me up?”

Batting her eyelashes, she turned to grab her coat from the rack in the corner. “Some detective you are.” She laughed. “Besides, I was busy takin’ a call. You know that.”

“Yeah, about a cat stuck up a tree.” It was our code for the calls we received, usually from elderly residents, requesting odd jobs. We got four or five a week. Though technically not what we were paid for, they were an unofficial part of the deputy gig in Wisper, and they were by no means emergencies.

“Oh, before I forget,” she said, “you need to head next door to Ace’s House. Theo Burroughs called and said he wants to talk to us about somethin’. He didn’t say what though.”

“Why can’t you go?”

She plopped her hat on her head and flipped her coat collar up. “Gotta go save a cat.”

* * *

“Deputy, thanks for coming.” Theo Burroughs, the head of Wisper’s new community center, greeted me as I wiped my boots on the rug in the entryway. There were a few teenagers and a couple young adults hanging out, some reading or doing homework. Ace’s House was a relaxed place and, in a short time, had become a core part of our town.

I nodded, looking around at the refurbished newspaper building. I’d been here once or twice since he’d opened it but never really got a good look inside. It was a beautiful old building, and Theo had only made it better with his renovations. I appreciated the sturdy foundation and strong wooden bones. I thought about the youth football thing again and found myself wondering if I could run it from the center. A buddy and I’d talked about doing it together. Maybe it was time for that too.

“You got somethin’ for me?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said, and I followed him when he waved his arm toward his office down the hallway.

When the door was shut behind us, he took a seat at a small, distressed walnut desk, but I remained standing.

“There’s a kid,” he started. “His name is Murphy. Or, at least, that’s what he goes by. He says he’s eighteen, but I think he’s lying about that. He certainly doesn’t look eighteen.”

“I can’t arrest somebody for lyin’.”

“No, no, of course not.” He shook his head. “And I don’t want to get him in trouble, but I’m worried about him.”

Finally, I sat. Sounded like this could take a while.

“He first came to Ace’s House about three months ago with his mother, but now she’s nowhere to be seen, and Murphy shows up here two or three times a week to eat or to get warm. He says he’s just bored, stopping by after school, but I’ve asked around, and no one seems to know him or his mother. The other kids don’t recognize him from their classes.”

“What was it about him that made you think he was bein’ dishonest?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. But his clothes are usually dirty, or he’s not dressed properly for the weather. It’s a lot colder now than it was three months ago. And any time I try to talk to him, he wiggles his way out of the conversation somehow.” Theo shifted in his chair and sat back. “We gave him a coat from our donation center because the jacket he was wearing was threadbare. He wouldn’t accept it, said he didn’t need it, but later, when he thought no one was watching, he took the coat.”

“So what is it exactly you’d like the Sheriff’s Department to do, if you’re sayin’ he ain’t causin’ any trouble? Want me to do a wellness check?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, but I don’t have an address for you to check in on. But can you just look into it? Maybe I’m wrong about them being homeless and he’s telling the truth, but what if I’m not wrong? What if this kid is alone? He’s figured out our schedule, so he knows when there’s going to be warm food here. José and some of the other local restaurant owners donate a couple times a week, and he always shows up on time to eat, but he doesn’t interact with any of the other kids who come here or with our staff. My assistant director, Devo, has been trying to connect with the kid, but he’s a brick wall.”

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