Page 47 of Shadow Seeking

“I can’t fight this—I’m not sure what to do. Should we close the SCAC? I can’t put people in danger, no matter how much I want to fight for this organization.” She burst into tears. Even though she was strong and had been through hell in her life, I could tell that the fear of her people being hurt was taking a toll on her.

“What was the name of that organization again? The one sending you the hate messages?” I asked.

“The Society For Pure Blood Humanity & Decency,” she said, wiping away a drop of blood that landed on her lip from the cuts on her forehead. “I never dreamed they’d take itthisfar. I thought they were all talk, but then the vandalism happened the other day. Now, I’m not sure what to think. How could they go from hate pamphlets to this in such a short time?”

“We’ll do our best to find out.” I thought for a moment. “Have you received any other threats lately? Anything that seems out of the ordinary?”

Tana frowned. “I don’t think so. Nothing in my personal life. I think this about the organization.”

“All right. Anything else? Any disgruntled clientele show up lately?”

Tana took another moment, then stiffened. “One.It could be him, I suppose. I didn’t even think about him. Kelvin’s not in great shape. He’s an old wolf shifter who went rogue. We couldn’t help him much, and he already has mental health issues. Being excommunicated from his Pack did a number on his already fragile grasp on reality.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He was in the Persian Gulf war. He lost his brother Roddy. Kelvin was there when Roddy stepped on a land mine. He died before he hit the ground. Roddy joined the Army because heworshiped his older brother. So, Kelvin blames himself for Roddy’s death, and so do his parents. He fell into heavy drug use—claramondin, which is a shifter-specific drug. Worse than crack or meth. We tried to help him wean off it, but he went too fast and the withdrawal symptoms eroded what fragile grasp on reality that he had.” She shrugged.

“Did he ever threaten you?” I scribbled down his name. “And what’s his last name?”

“Creston. And…well…he did once but I didn’t take him seriously. When he was kicked out of the halfway house because he was threatening some of the other group home members. We couldn’t help him, so he was out on the streets again. We didn’t have the money to put him up in a hotel for more than a day or two.”

“When was this?”

“A couple weeks ago.” She winced and rubbed her head. “Maybe I should see the medics. I feel woozy.”

“One last question,” I said. “Where does Kelvin stay?”

She carefully stood, weaving a little. “He lives in the homeless encampment down by the docks. He’s got salt and pepper hair, long and braided. He’s about five-eight, walks with a limp, and dresses in desert camo.”

“I’ll find him, if only to rule him out.” I motioned to the cop. “She should see the medic now.”

I headed back to Orik and Dante. “Come on, we’re off to the docks.”

As we headed away from the damaged building, I heard a cry from behind us. I turned to see Tana weeping as the medics led her over to the rescue unit. At the same time, I saw body on a gurney, and the medics were drawing a sheet over the woman’s head. Right then, I knew that Candy was dead.

Camp Wanderment—oneof the homeless encampments—moved around a lot. Whenever the nearby businesses got tired of them and argued with the city council enough to get them kicked out of the area, they’d pick up and move on. But nobody wanted to deal with the real issues—how to help people who were beyond helping themselves.

Oh, some escaped back into a typical life, but most who stayed under the radar too long never made it back. And most of them didn’t end up there because of anything they did. Fate could turn the tables on anybody, at anytime.

There were a number of homeless camps around the area and too many people had to visit the food banks and pantries every month. At least the donations continued to pour in to fill the gaps where the government help couldn’t reach. Several of the camps lived near overpasses, or on the side of the road near the freeway exits where they could spread out a little, but Camp Wanderment was down by the docks, near the industrial area.

I turned to Dante as we headed to the car. “I want whoever did this. Tana’s terrified, and her secretary is dead. We can’t let them shut down the SCAC. The organization helps too many people.”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Potential lead. Yes, the hate group might be responsible, but my feeling is that they’re afraid of following up on the threats they make. She mentioned someone who’s got a big grudge, and whose mental faculties are seriously impaired.” As we belted ourselves into the car, I told them about Kelvin. “I have a feeling he might actually be our man.”

“Do you think that the hate group is clean?”

“Not clean, no…but she made a point. They’ve been attacking the center—verbally and with protests—for several years now. Why the sudden change?”

“Hmm,” Orik said. “It usually takes a trigger for a person or group to switch from simple harassment to outright murder. And not all people or groups will respond when the switch goes live.” He pulled out his tablet and began searching. “I want to check something.”

The drive down to the docks wasn’t all that far, but finding therightdock took awhile. For one thing, the camp wasn’t located near the actual piers, but rather—a distance from there, in a small marina that was tucked out of the way. The marina was lightly used, and as long as the boats—mostly small fishing boats—were left alone, so far, the owners hadn’t complained.

“Okay,” Orik said. “The Society for Pure Blood Humanity & Human Decency has been around for at least ten years. They’ve protested—peacefully, passed out pamphlets, sent numerous rude and hateful messages to various organizations and people, but not once do I see a case where their anger and prejudice jumped the line into action.”

“Not once? Are you sure?” Dante asked.

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