Page 69 of Cougar Point

Officer Nelson is closer to Ronnie’s age than mine. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. It’s hard to tell with his baby face. He’s wearing the typical small-town cop getup: tight-fitting uniform, sharp creases down pant legs, bulges in shirt sleeves and chest, Smokey hat, mirrored sunglasses and a tan that looks like it was sprayed on. He’s absolutely beautiful with a perfect setof pearly white teeth that he shows off with a smile. He’s in love with himself.

“I’m Detective Carpenter and this is Detective Marsh,” I say, and he gives us the full body exam with his eyes. I’m going to kick him in the balls if he makes one wrong remark.

Nelson says, “I think I found your VW unless there’s a circus in town.”

Well, Duh. How many ’68 or ’69 VW camper vans can there be with a wizard painted on both sides, orange paint, and a green grille?

His eyes are still examining Ronnie so I shake him until his head bobbles. Not really, but I want to. “Can you show us the camper, Officer Nelson?” I say it loud enough to break Ronnie’s hold on him.

“Call me Trey,” he says, and turns his teeth up to high beam for Ronnie.

“Okay, Trey,” I say, “show us.”

Lucas sees my discomfort and grins. Asshole.

“Follow me,” Trey says, and leads us around the back of the repair garage/shelter to a rickety shed with no front doors. A VW camper, rust spots spray-painted bright orange with a wizard painted on the side I can see. The front has a green grille and bumper. The shed looks like a strong breeze will flatten it. The license plates are missing.

A woman with tightly permed gray hair, a deeply lined face, and glasses with lenses thick enough to burn ants approaches us. “Can I help you?”

Officer Nelson says, “It’s okay, Annie. They’re with me.”

Annie smiles and the wrinkles on her face shift like tectonic plates. “If you want Vinnie, he left early this morning.”

Nelson asks, “Do you expect him back soon?”

“I never expect anyone back. These poor children of God have no roots. They are lost like little lambs. I feed them and givethem a bed for the night. I never ask where they come from, how long they’re staying or where they’re going.”

Nelson says, “Annie’s our own Mother Teresa. Our officers help out from time to time collecting food and clothing but she is full service.”

“Vinnie was helping with the others,” Annie says. “He’s a good man. Always a kind word. Always there for anyone that needs him. I hope he finds what he’s looking for.”

I ask, “How long was Vinnie here?”

“Two or three days this time. He’s been here before. Never stays more than a few days. This time he brought that.” She indicates the VW. “He loaded us up with groceries and water and offered to buy a big-screen television. He donated some money, which we can definitely use, but I didn’t know what we’d do with a television. These poor souls need something to occupy their hands, not rot their minds.”

“You got that right, Annie,” Nelson says.

Lucas hasn’t said a word up until now but the mention of money catches his attention. “You say he made a donation?”

Annie gives Lucas a suspicious look out of the corner of her eye. “He would never steal from anyone.” And that was all she had to say about that. “I did hear him say something about going to Bellingham. He has a sister he was going to visit. I didn’t see him leave so I can’t say for sure. You’re welcome to talk to anyone here but most of them won’t talk to you.”

Lucas asks, “Can I search the van?”

“Don’t you need a warrant?” She gives him a scathing look.

“Do I?” Lucas says, but it’s not really a question. More of a threat.

“Go ahead. You won’t find anything,” she says, and shrugs.

Officer Nelson stays with Annie while Lucas goes to search the van. I agree with Annie that there will be nothing of note inthe van. If there’s anything of value, Vinnie would have taken it, given it away, or already sold it. Ronnie and I go into the shelter.

The shelter is divided into single bed bays by sheets draped over ropes. Several picnic tables take us to the aisle between the bays. Four men and two women of varying ages and ethnicity are sitting at two of the picnic tables. All of them are holding on to a backpack or wearing one, no doubt containing their worldly possessions. The rule for homeless that I’ve run across is to never let your guard down. Never trust anyone. All are silent except one of the women.

“I’m Hattie. You looking for Vinnie?” she asks.

She must have been eavesdropping at the door to see if she had to vacate the premises. Or if one of them was going to be busted. I can see the caution emanating from her like a heatwave on blacktop.

“Hi, Hattie,” Ronnie says, and introduces us as Megan and Ronnie. She already knows we’re cops. “We are looking for him. He’s not in any kind of trouble. I know you probably don’t believe that since we’re cops, but it’s the truth. We have something important he needs to hear.”