Page 5 of Shadow Running
“Woot!”Dante said, clapping.
“Congrats—life’s about to get a lot busier,” Carson said, grinning.
“Well, what are you standing here for?”I said.“Go, man.And call us with updates.Give Hilda our love.”
Orik raced out of the room, then dashed back in.“I forgot my bag,” he said, blushing.He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and then was gone again before we could speak.
“Well, let’s change this up.Carson, can you look up information on a man named Greg Swift.He was a veteran.Dante will give you the notes.I’ll head out to the homeless encampment.”I turned to Dante.“You want to come with me or stay here?Oh wait,” I said.“I think Sophia has a new client coming in to talk about a case.”I turned to her.“Right?”
“Yes, at two.I’ll need one of you here, because he’s already been through the preliminary meeting, so one of you has to decide whether to take the case.”
“I’ll stay and talk to the client,” Dante said.“You seem to get better results in the field than I do.Be cautious, those places can be dangerous.You’ve been to several before.”
“They aren’t dangerous unless you’re roughing them up,” I said.“That’s a myth spread by thenot in my neighborhoodbrigade.”
“Yeah, but this one seems to be focused for ex-military, and you know that can be a hornet’s nest, especially with PTSD running rampant among a number of the vets.”Dante frowned.“Maybe we should reschedule and I should come with you?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.“Call me if you’re unsure about whatever this new client wants.”I wrapped up the meeting and returned to my office.Slipping into my jacket, I brought up Maps and pinpointed where the Soldiers of Misfortune encampment was, then—slinging my bag over my shoulder—I headed out of the building, still surprised to see the sunshine.
* * *
I was headed east,toward the 520 Floating Bridge.The Soldiers of Misfortune encampment was located beneath an overpass that had been closed for over a year.The roadwork to fix the overpass was supposed to be completed by late summer, but the city kept pushing it back, and now the overpass was considered so unstable the city wasn’t sure they were going to bother fixing it, or tear it down and start over again.Until then, the homeless veterans had put down roots there.
All the way there, I thought about Benny and his friend.I’d started out wanting to wring the goblin’s neck—he was such a little wanker.But as time went on, I’d become rather fond of him, in the way you take a stray dog under your wing.Today, he’d managed to surprise me again.Benny didn’t have many friends, and Greg sounded like one of his closest.
As I sped past the exits, nearing the turnoff to the encampment, I tensed.We’d already dealt with a mentally unstable man who had lived in one of the temporary shelters, and that had nearly been a disaster.But maybe this would be a simple case.Maybe Greg had taken a hiatus and he’d be back soon.
I began to see signs of the encampment a few minutes before the exit.A blue and gold pennant hung from a telephone pole.Over the years, the encampments had developed their own structure and loose government, adopting names and identifying colors.
They had created internal laws and hierarchies.Though the government didn’t like them because they showed the underbelly of the cities, the fact was, there were a lot of homeless people with no other place to go.
And since people weren’t willing to fork over enough in taxes to help lift up everyone, it was inevitable that tent cities would pop up.Most citizens didn’t seem to realize that a good share of the country was one paycheck away from the streets.All it took was a downturn in profits to be laid off, or staggering medical bills to go bankrupt.King County alone had over sixteen thousand homeless and the number was rising.
Sobering, I turned at the sign.To the left, the camp sprawled out beneath the overpass along the side of the road.Though it was hard to estimate how many people might be living here, I thought that the camp probably housed around one hundred and fifty individuals.There didn’t seem to be any children that I could see, but given the fact the camp was mostly veterans, that made sense.
I wondered how many of these men and women had left families behind, betrayed by a broken system, and forgotten by those they had defended.A wave of sadness swept over me, but I took a deep breath, shook off the mood, and walked into the camp.
Immediately, I felt watched.That didn’t bother me.I was a stranger, so of course they wouldn’t trust me.I glanced around, trying to find a face that looked welcome to being approached.A moment later, a woman stepped forward.She was dressed in a uniform that had seen too many days without a washing machine or a needle and thread to repair rips.
“Are you looking for something?”she asked, warily.
I nodded.“Someone, actually.I’m checking on someone for a friend.Do you know a Greg Swift?He?—”
She stiffened, then said, “I know Greg.What do you want with him?”
I glanced over at a tree trunk that stretched out along the ground.“Do you mind if we sit down?”
“All right.”The woman led me over to the trunk.“So, why are you looking for Greg?”
I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.The smells in the camp were ripe, but I restrained wrinkling of my nose or showing any sign that I felt vaguely nauseated.
“My name’s Kyann, and I’m friends with a friend of Greg.He’s worried because they get together every week to talk and play checkers, and it’s been two weeks since Greg’s shown up.Benny came out here looking for Greg the other day, but nobody could help him.So, he asked me to see if I can find out what’s going on.”
The woman paused for a moment.“I’m Patricia.Are you a cop?”
I shook my head.“No, not a cop.My name’s Kyann Sarasan.I run the Shadow Blade Investigation Agency.I’m a private investigator, mostly into all things Supe Community oriented.I agreed to help Benny—Greg’s friend—because he was so concerned.”
“Your friend wouldn’t happen to be a goblin?”Patricia asked.
