MIA: Missing In Atlanta

The officer cocked his brow. “This dude one of yours?”

“A little too zealous, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“He gave money to a young girl,” the cop explained. “She ran off before I could talk to her.”

The black man chuckled. “Now, Jude, how many times I tell you get ’em off the street before you go giving them handouts.”

Okay. Jude shrugged. He’d play along. The last thing he needed was a solicitation charge on his military record. “I was trying to help.”

“I hear ya. But right now, we need you back at the house.” The newcomer looked at the cop. “You mind undoing the cuffs?”

He hesitated.

“Come on, Brian,” said the big man. “My brother always said you were a good man.”

“Not as good as he was.” The officer sighed, then slapped Jude’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. Guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“No harm done.” Jude rubbed his wrists, at last free of the metal restraints. Close call, to say the least.

“Let’s go.” The big guy motioned him toward the van.

On the opposite side of the street, Jude stopped short. “Look, I appreciate your help, but—”

His rescuer eyed the cop, who had paused before getting into his squad car.

“Best get in the van or Brian’ll think I’m a lying skunk. I can drop you at the next corner, if you like.”

Jude glanced across the street. The police officer stared back at him.

Didn’t take long to weigh his options. Jude stepped toward the van. Sliding open the side-panel door, he stared into the same green eyes he’d met earlier today.

“Sarah?”

“Get in,” she said between clenched teeth.

Jude hoisted himself onto the rear bench, surprise written on his face.

She scooted over, giving him more room. “Don’t hand money to anyone on the street.”

His eyes narrowed. “Thanks for the advice. Like I told the cop, I was just trying to help.”

“Which you weren’t. That isn’t what the girl needs. Every guy who wants her for an hour gives her money that ends up in the hands of her pimp. You’ve got to convince her to get off the street. Next time try a little Christian compassion.”

Jude shook his head. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

Sarah’s heart softened. “Look at it this way, Jude, there are rules out here on the street, just like in the military. You could get a girl killed by interfering.”

“What about you?” he shot back.

“I get them off the street. Away from this area, the rules change. They’re safe at the shelter.”

“Until they run back again.”

“You got that right.” The driver turned and extended his hand to Jude. “Name’s Benjamin Ulysses Lejeune. Folks call me Bull.”

“Right time, right place. Thanks.”

“Brian’s a good cop. Just a little quick with the cuffs. Best way to stay out of trouble is to try not to attract attention.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Bull shifted his focus back to the street and turned the key in the ignition. “Where’d you park your car?”

“Next to an all-night doughnut shop, five blocks west of here.”

Bull eased the van into the flow of traffic. Picking up his cell off the console, he punched in a number.

“Antwahn, my man. How goes it?” Bull chuckled. “I hear ya. Listen, I need a favor.” He paused. “Friend of mine left his wheels in the parking lot across from your place.”

Bull glanced back at Jude. “Make? Model?”

“Red Toyota Tundra.”

Bull relayed the information. “Got that, Antwahn? My friend would appreciate no misfortune befalling his vehicle until we get over there.” Bull chuckled again, this time a low rumble that carried more threat than humor before he slapped the cell shut.

Sarah adjusted her seat belt and glanced out the front window, still mad at herself for sending Jude on a wild-goose chase that could have gotten him in serious trouble.

The captain might be able to handle himself in combat, but life on the street was a different matter. Besides, she’d bet his commanding officer wouldn’t have appreciated a call from Atlanta Vice.

Neon lights advertising forbidden pleasure flashed in the night. Sarah blinked at their perverse glare. Up ahead something caught her eye. She crooked her neck as a familiar face came into focus.

Tapping Bull’s shoulder, she said, “Isn’t that Keesha’s friend?”

“Velvet jacket and leather miniskirt? Yeah, that’s her.”

“Pull over.” Sarah slid the panel door open as the van stopped.

The girl on the street turned wary eyes toward Sarah.

“Brittany, you must be hungry, working this late in the cold. We’ve got food back at Hope House.”

The girl shook her head. “Don’t you ask me to come back to the house with you, Ms. Sarah.”

“I bet you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Damian’s gonna take me out for a steak dinner once I finish up tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah stepped onto the sidewalk and walked slowly toward the girl. “Keesha said she misses you.”

The girl’s face clouded. “Keesha still with you?”

“She’s taking classes at Georgia State and earning money by helping out around the house.”

“Don’t tell her you saw me.”

“One night, Brittany. A hot shower. A good meal. A bed of your own. Then you can decide what you want.”

The girl’s bottom lip quivered. “Damian said he’d kill me next time I go with you.”

Sarah pointed to the van. “You know Bull won’t let Damian hurt you.”

The girl peered around Sarah’s shoulder. “Who’s the other guy? A cop?”

Sarah turned. “He’s a new volunteer.”

“Don’t look like he belong around here.”

Sarah studied Jude for a long moment. “Maybe not. But he’s trying.”

Jude started to say something. Sarah flashed him a look she hoped he understood. Keep your mouth shut.

Wrapping her arm around the girl, Sarah gently ushered her toward the van. “Jude, you move up with Bull.”

Without a word of protest, he hopped out of the van.

“Good to see you again, Brittany,” Bull said as she and Brittany climbed into the rear.

Jude tugged the panel door shut, then slid into the front passenger seat.

At the next intersection, Bull made a U-turn. “Hope you don’t mind, Jude, my man, but I’m gonna take the ladies back to the house. Once Brittany’s settled in, I’ll drive you to your vehicle.”

In the rear, Sarah patted Brittany’s arm. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Hopefully, her words would prove true.

Sarah sighed, tired of the pain she saw in the eyes of the kids she pulled off the street. She knew all too well the heavy baggage some children had to carry. Brittany had more than her fair share.

Sarah thought of her own life. A mother who ran through men like water through a sieve. Always searching for love.

Somehow Sarah had never filled those holes, no matter how hard she’d tried. Eventually, she’d realized her mother didn’t need her or want her. A hard reality for a child to accept.

And what about the guy sitting in front of her? He’d be on his way soon enough. Having him underfoot reminded her of a promise she’d made to herself.

Never get involved with men.

When the van pulled to a stop behind the three-story brick house on Rosemont Avenue, Jude hopped out and opened the side panel for the women. Sarah held Brittany’s arm and ushered her toward the back door, the porch light shining a circle of welcome in the otherwise desolate night.

Jude followed them into the large kitchen. An industrial stove and oversize refrigerator took up the far wall. The center of the room was filled with a large metal table that appeared to double as a workstation. A lower shelf held mixing bowls and baking dishes.

A young African-American girl, early twenties, pretty with high cheekbones and a warm smile, entered the kitchen. “Brittany,” she shrieked, throwing her arms around the new arrival.

The two hugged, tears streaming down their cheeks. Sarah rubbed Brittany’s back as Keesha jabbered.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, girl. Where’ve you been? On the street? Honey child, there’s no reason to be doing that. Ms. Sarah, Bull and everyone here at the shelter, they want to help you.”

“Keesha, why don’t you take Brittany upstairs to the girls’ dorm and get her settled?” Sarah suggested. “Then you two come down to the chapel. There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge that I’ll stick in the oven so Brittany can eat after night prayer.”

The girls continued to chatter as they left the kitchen. Sarah glanced at Jude. “When was your last meal?”

“Breakfast at the mess hall this morning.”

“Bet that was tasty.”

His lips twitched. “Are you always so feisty?”

“Feisty?”

“That’s right. You act like a first sergeant ordering everyone around.”

She put her hands on her hips and tried not to smile. Pretty even when she was fussing at someone.

“So tell me, Jude, do first sergeants get to pull rank on captains?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why no, ma’am. They work together to get the job done.”

She pointed to the refrigerator. “Then grab the lasagna from the fridge while I turn on the oven.”

“Maybe I’ll have to demote you, ma’am.”

“Not a chance.” Sarah took the Pyrex dish from his hands and shoved it in the oven. “Should take about thirty minutes to heat up. You’re welcome to stay.”

“I appreciate the offer, but Bull said he’d drive me back to my truck.”

“After night prayer.” Bull stepped in from the cold. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on a peg by the door. “Why don’t you join us?”

Jude shook his head. “I really need to get on the road.”

“Of course you do.” Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall. “But it’s almost 10:00 p.m., and you’re exhausted. Maybe you should eat something and then go back to your motel.”

Jude pursed his lips. “Fact is I never got a room.”

“But you changed your clothes?” she said as she arranged plates and silverware on the table.

“In a public restroom. I guess the first thing I need is the closest motel.”

Bull snickered. “Jude, my man. Fleabag is not what you want. Why don’t you stay here?”

Sarah’s head flew up.

Bull held up his hands. “Now, Sarah, you know we’ve got extra bunks in the boys’ dorm, and I could use the help. No telling when that funding will come through for another overnight employee.”

He slapped Jude’s shoulder. “My advice, we get your truck, then you come back to the shelter. Nothin’ good happens on the street this hour of the night.”

Keesha peered into the kitchen. “Everyone’s in the chapel.”

“We’ll be right there.” Sarah glanced at Jude. “If you want to wash up, the boys’ latrine is downstairs.”

“Latrine?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Works with the first-sergeant persona.”

He followed her out of the kitchen and down a long hallway. Photos of teens lined the walls. Black, white, Asian, Latino, all of them smiling.

Sarah showed him the stairway to the boys’ dorm, then pointed down the hall. “The chapel is the third door on the right.”

Jude found the latrine, glad to wash the city grime from his hands. Retracing his steps, he stopped at the door Sarah had indicated.

Might as well check out the chapel. Anything—even prayer—would be better than sitting alone in the kitchen.

The sweet scent of candles filled the air as Jude stepped inside the small room. Three roughly hewn, wooden crosses hung on the wall behind a table that held a plant in an earthenware pot. Nearby a large leather-bound Bible lay open on a small stand.

Kids sat on the carpeted floor, heads down, legs crossed. Jude counted eight boys and five girls, who all looked like normal teens.

Sarah flipped on a CD player. A woman sang about forgiveness, redemption and the love of the Lord, repeating the syllables in a soothing cadence.

Jude hunkered down in the rear, away from the kids but with a clear view of Sarah, who clasped her hands, head bowed. Bull entered and took a spot on the opposite side of the room.

“Jesus forgave the sinner…” The plaintive song filled the small room and mixed with the wisps of smoke twisting from the candles.

Jude tilted his head back against the wall. Above him, a heater vent pumped tepid air that brushed his cheek and was as soothing as a woman’s touch.

His eyes drooped. He was back in the desert. An IED exploded. He jerked, caught himself. His eyes popped open.

Had anyone seen him doze off? He glanced at Sarah, still bent in prayer.

Did God listen to her?

His eyes flicked over the kids. Did God listen to any of them?

He stared at the two smaller crosses on the wall. Good thief, bad thief.

A story of forgiveness. Or so his father claimed. Ironic, really, but that was the issue, wasn’t it?

Would he ever be able to forgive his dad?

Jude shook himself, hoping to shove the thought into the darkness.

But the memory took hold like an obsession.

A stalled car, an oncoming train. They’d all escaped, until Jude’s mother ran back to get…

The heart-shaped money clip she’d hung on the visor. The only memento she had from her dad.

So why hadn’t his father reacted?

A lump clogged Jude’s throat.

The sound of screeching metal…his mother’s scream…

Jude tried to remember her face. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Wasn’t everyone tall to a six-year-old kid?

A heaviness settled over him. A sorrow for the little boy left behind. For a father whose grief twisted into an inability to relate to his young son. Worse than anything had been the self-righteousness. His dad believed that he walked with the Lord.

To a boy who felt isolated and alone, if his father walked with the Lord that was the last place Jude wanted to be.

He glanced at Sarah. Was her belief twisted, as well? Did she claim God was all loving when He allowed the sick perversions that forced so many kids to seek shelter from the reality of their lives?

Jude knew what it was like to have to escape. An ROTC scholarship to college had been his way out. He hadn’t looked back.

Now, seeing the kids in this room, he realized he’d been one of the lucky ones.

The song faded to silence. Then a small voice spoke. “Father, thank you for taking me from a place of pain and bringing me to a place of safety.”

A girl wept. Her sorrow cut through Jude. So young and so hurt.

“Thank you, Lord, for bringing Brittany back to us.” Keesha wrapped her arm around the teen with the woman’s body and the troubled eyes.

“Thank you for bringing Captain Walker to Hope House.” Jude’s head flew up at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “Help him find his friend.”

Evidently, Sarah believed in the power of prayer. Well, she could talk to the Lord all she wanted. Jude would count on his own ability to find Nicole.

He wanted to leave the stuffy room, the house on Rosemont and Sarah Montgomery with her questioning eyes and love of the Lord.

Jude rose and headed for the door. He didn’t need to be sucked into the hypocrisy of faith. He’d left all that behind when he turned his back on his father. He would leave it behind once again.

Sarah watched Jude bolt from the chapel. The captain acted like one of the troubled kids they picked up off the street. Jude Walker may be put together on the outside, but he was hurting inside. Was it because of the woman he was trying to find? Or perhaps pain he carried from his past?

She glanced at Bull and nodded.

He rose and slipped from the room.

Maybe Bull could help.

Hopefully, once Jude found Nicole, his girlfriend would be able to smooth out the rough edges of his life.

Funny for a woman to give a man the wrong address. Was she related to Viki Valentine? Although Sarah barely remembered the girl, her history couldn’t be good.

So many of the kids were trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle of despair. Hard to climb into the light when you had grown up in darkness.

Sarah thought back to the last man her own mother had brought home. A retired factory worker with a monthly pension and medical benefits. Somehow in her mother’s mind that equated to security. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with love.

Sarah lowered her head and prayed.

Lord, I’m trying to leave the past and move into the future You have prepared for me. But it’s hard to know Your will for my life. If a door opens, give me the courage to walk through it.

THREE

After night prayer, Sarah insisted Brittany eat a hefty helping of lasagna before she and Keesha went upstairs to the girls’ dorm. Sarah tidied the kitchen but left out a plate and silverware in case Jude wanted something to eat when he returned to the shelter.

If he returned.

Bull had posted a note on the bulletin board, saying he was driving Jude back to his truck.

Big and burly, but with a heart of gold, Bull had a way with people. Sarah smiled.

For all his history, Bull had turned his life around. It was hard to believe that the stories about his youth were true. Supposedly he’d controlled the neighborhood, but not in a good way. When his brother—a dedicated cop who was making a difference—was gunned down, God had walked into the midst of Bull’s pain and claimed him as His own.

Maybe Bull could get through to the captain and find out what had sent him racing from the chapel.

Sarah wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed for her office. Dropping into the chair behind her desk, she spotted the blinking answering machine and pushed Play.

“Sarah, it’s Mom. I just wanted to hear your voice, sugar.”

Sarah bit down on her lip.

“It’s been so long since we’ve talked. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I thought things would be better when I married Hank. He said to tell you…well, he’s trying to be a good stepdad, but he thinks you’re running away. Call me, sugar. I’m sure we can—”

“Work things out,” Sarah mumbled, punching the delete message button. Isn’t that what her mother always tried to do?

Except her idea of problem solving involved bringing a new man home. Her mother didn’t understand long-term commitment or self-sacrifice. Nor did she understand her daughter’s desire to make her own way in the world.

Sarah didn’t need a man to complete her. She was fine just the way she was.

“Parents!” she mumbled. Then, realizing she sounded like one of the kids, she laughed out loud.

“You okay?” Keesha stepped into the office.

“I’m fine. What’d you find out about Brittany?”

“Her momma’s sister lives in Macon.” Keesha handed Sarah a three-by-five card. “Here’s the aunt’s name and phone number. I told Brittany you’d talk to her tonight.”

“How’d she react?”

“I think she’s relieved. Her mother has another year in prison before she’s up for parole. Evidently she signed all the forms with Family Services for the aunt to take over guardianship. You know Brittany doesn’t want anything to do with her dad.”

The last time Brittany stayed at the shelter, Sarah had seen her bruises. She would drive Brittany to Macon if need be to ensure the girl wouldn’t have to face her abusive father again.

“Thanks, Keesha. I’ll be sure to tell Cynthia what a great job you’ve been doing while she’s been gone.”

“It’ll be nice to have her back, but I don’t want to even think about you leaving. Have you heard anything about the orphanage position?”

“The board won’t make a decision for a while yet.”

“South America.” Keesha sighed wistfully. “It sounds so exciting.”

“Setting up a program to promote American adoptions of Colombian children?” Sarah laughed. “Sounds like a lot of work to me.”

“At least we’ll have you with us for a little longer.”

Sarah’s heart warmed. Keesha was a hardworking young woman who had cleaned up her life. Now she was taking classes toward a degree and helping with the kids.

When Keesha headed back upstairs, Sarah called Brittany’s aunt, who agreed to pick her niece up first thing in the morning.

Call completed, Sarah turned her attention back to the financial reports. She added up the funds Hope House had received from the foundation over the last six months, then reviewed the Caring Heart’s records for the same time period and checked the contributions.

Why didn’t the figures add up?

She rubbed her fingers over her temples, hoping to ease the pressure that had been building since her earlier conversation with Winton, when the sound of a car CD player broke through the stillness outside.

Sarah tugged back the curtain. A gold Eldorado pulled to the curb.

A twinge of apprehension slid down her spine as she grabbed her sweater and stepped into the foyer.

“That’s Damian’s car,” Brittany cried from the top of the landing. Keesha peered over her friend’s shoulder.

“Go back into the dorm and close the door, Brittany. Keep the lights off and don’t go near the window.” Sarah reached for the doorknob. “Keesha, call Bull’s cell. Tell him I need him back here now.”

Sarah pulled the door open and stepped into the chilly night. The light from the porch scattered over the sidewalk. The Eldorado sat in the shadows beyond, heavy base thumping through the cold.

Wrapping the sweater around her shoulders, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the vehicle. Hopefully, her stance would send a signal to keep moving down the street.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as the driver’s door opened. A man she recognized stepped onto the pavement. Tall and slender, he wore a fur coat and flared jeans. A thick silver chain dangled from his pocket.

“What do you want, Damian?” she called out. Luckily, her voice didn’t expose the nervousness that fluttered through her stomach.

Damian sauntered toward her, a sneer plastered on his long face. “I came to get Brittany. Take her home with me.” He jammed his thumb back at his chest in a possessive motion packed with defiance.

Sarah kept her voice calm. “She doesn’t want to be with you anymore, Damian. Now, turn around and get back in your car before I call the police.”

“Cops are tied up with a raid downtown. They won’t be comin’ this way. Plenty of time for me to go in there and get my woman.”

Sarah stepped to the edge of the porch. “It’s late, Damian. Go home.”

The glint in his eye told her he wasn’t about to leave.

Where was Bull?

Damian reached for Sarah’s arm. She jerked free and ran for the door.

At that instant a red pickup charged down the street and screeched to a stop.

Footsteps sounded on the sidewalk. Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah saw a whirl of movement.

“Jude?”

He grabbed Damian by the shoulders, spun him around and smashed his fist into the punk’s jaw.

Damian crumpled onto the grass.

“Get out of here.” Jude’s voice was low and dangerous. “And don’t come back again.”

Damian staggered to his feet, rubbing his chin.

Jude snagged his shirt collar and leaned into his bloodied face. “And if you ever touch her again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.”

“Son of a—” His hand groped along the waistband of his jeans.

“Watch out,” Sarah screamed, seeing the knife he brandished.

In one smooth movement, Jude grabbed Damian’s wrist with his left hand and twisted. His right fist jabbed into the punk’s gut, causing him to double over and drop the knife to the ground.

Jude pulled him up by the collar and shoved him along the sidewalk. “Don’t come back, you understand me?”

Grunting a reply, Damian slithered into the Eldorado.

Bull raced around the corner of the house just as the car disappeared from sight. “Where is that scum bag?”

“Already taken care of.” Jude picked up the knife Damian had dropped and quickly explained what had happened.

Bull pulled out his cell. “I’ll call the cops and let them know. Damian’s caused a lot of problems in the area recently. Word is, he’s trying to expand his turf.”