Page 45 of Wild Cub

“Okay, so again, April reports so far are not bad. Still within the average range,” Sam reads on.

“Wait. Did we look into separating the calls from their categories? Like those reporting homeless versus just needing resources or assistance?” Reva chimes in, making a valid point.

I pop up, knocking the pillow to the floor. Sam jerks up to look at me. “No, I didn’t. But I will this week when we get back into the office. Maybe there’s a distinction there.” She scribbles a note to herself to look into the reports.

“But also, Tessa had that call from Aggie. Aggie was looking for you early on,” Reva says, bringing back the memory of my panic attack.

“Yeah, a day that I’d rather forget. She said that in February, there were a total of 323 people who visited the Center. Then in March, there were 253. Maybe I need to get the lists from Aggie and compare. Find the names, possibly,” I say, rubbing my forehead.

“Could we use the list to track the call history? Worth a shot?” Sam contributes.

“We could run into confidentiality issues. If the committees get a whiff of us going through people, we would be under siege.” Reva makes a point. Hotline is about confidentiality. We only intervene if there’s a problem with coordination.

“But you could ask Jeremiah. See if he recognizes the names,” Brittany adds in.

“I’m guessing your reports didn’t have anything either,” Sam says. “Unfortunately, Reva wasn’t able to get the reports. Something about not being able to open them or something. I don’t understand.” I lay back down. It seems like we have a point, but we’re going back down a slippery slope.

“Okay, so let’s look at the now. What’s been going down this past week that seems sketchy?” Brittany asks.

“The random piece of mail that Jackson took and said he’d look into. I have a feeling that maybe there’s something there but he’s keeping it to himself. Then there’s Jeremiah’s warning.” I finish out what I know.

“So, he just showed up last night and said beware?” Reva asks.

“Not exactly. He said he has seen more on the streets, seen people in a van. There one day and gone the next. Especially near the tracks. Then he warned me about Jackson and his club. “Not good people,” I believe he said. ”

“Do you trust him? I’m not talking about within a relationship, but personally, with your life, this work, and what’s going on within the community?” Brittany asks me the million dollar question.

“That’s the thing: half of me does. He’s shown enough to care about my well-being. Shit, he has a watchdog sitting in a car right now watching over us. The man has claimed me or whatever that shit is. He’s sparked the old me back out. I wouldn’t have asked him to help if I didn’t trust him.” I sit back up and give out all the evidence I have.

“And the other half?” Sammie asks in a soft voice.

“The other half is telling me there’s something more I need to be looking at but it doesn’t know what. It’s like the vibe I’m getting. There is so much more, and I don’t know what to expect.”

“Well, isn't it time to get some questions answered?” Brittany chimes in.

“No time like the present, I guess.”

“We still have nothing but an inkling and some reporting factors. Right? Cool. I don’t think even the Scooby gang can solve this one.” Reva throws her hands in the air.

We might need the whole gang at this point. I need more information and I might have a way to get it. Only one way to find out. Time to get to work.

Chapter 15

Ihaven’tbeenableto find my answers. Here it is, the middle of the week, and no word from Alexander. Once again, silence. While my mind says all is good and it’s nothing to worry about, my heart says otherwise. Call it insecure or past trauma with relationships. Sam, Reva, and I have been busy all week looking into the information. Sam has been pulling the reports, separating it out between different calls.

I finally did receive my computer back. Unfortunately, Sheldon says that half of my personal files were compromised and deleted, so I’ve been frantic, trying to restore the majority of my files from an external hard drive. This is the part where I thank my ADHD and anxiety. Sam and I have been working into the night. Answers needed to come or more trouble could be brewing.

“Boss, I’m out for the night. Please text us when you leave and get home safe,” Sammie calls out from the office hallway. Out of everyone, she is more scared of what is to come than myself and tends to worry about me. While I sit back and worry about everyone.

Still burying my nose in the computer, my glasses at the bridge of my nose, I swear, the more I look at reports and notes, the faster my head spirals and I feel like slipping back to the woman I was a few months ago.

The quiet can drive a person wild, alone with their thoughts. I can’t handle the silence at night. I have to put music on in the background. Music soothes the quietness, allowing my thoughts to formulate and comprehend all this information. I’m feeling like I’ve been caught in the middle, with no understanding of where it all started.You may never know.

Night has fallen and the sun has disappeared from view. Darkness sometimes invites loneliness and I welcome it. I accept it. No distractions other than the sounds of the background. My best work tends to come at night, maybe because I seclude myself from others.

I put my head in my hands and let out a frustrated yell.

“Sounds like someone needs a distraction.”

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