Chapter 7: In the Darkness, Hunting

The sun had just gone down in New York City. In upper Manhattan, Amber was sitting on a bench on 150th Street, in Sugar Hill. A taxi picked it’s way along the narrow street lined with cars on both sides. It was followed by a squad car. She cringed involuntarily but didn’t move as the police passed. News of the gruesome death of Ronsheen Tarrik, someone well-known on the streets, had filtered throughout the homeless of the area. Amber could feel the tension.

She was sitting across from a plain looking building. A red and yellow sign above it’s door read: Twin Pillars Homeless Shelter. It was after dark now; the shelter would be filled for the night. Shelters had never worked for Amber for a variety of reasons but the primary one was her nocturnal activity cycle – her life just operated opposite of the help a shelter might provide.

There were other reasons too. Shelters took a lot of time, waiting, paperwork, and then more waiting, usually to see an overworked social worker for five minutes. Amber knew that shelters were famous for “the Crud” as well, a mixture of all those easily communicable diseases that seemed to crop up when lots of humans got together and cleanliness was optional. She didn’t want to get sick. Nothing in her strange make-up protected her from the common cold.

Inside the shelter, Donny Ruthman switched off his work laptop and put it, and it’s power cord, into his backpack. The thirty-five year old man had been running this shelter for almost five years. Twin Pillars had twenty beds, ten for males and ten for females, on opposite sides of the small facility. Running a shelter like this was not what he had expected. There was a lot more fund-raising and grant chasing than he liked.

Donny pulled on a thin spring jacket and walked out the female side. Mary, a dark-haired woman sat at the front desk, a radio strapped to her belt. An ancient desktop computer, donated to the shelter by some long forgotten company hummed at her desk. In the common area of the shelter a half-dozen women sat on chairs watching a single TV. A large restaurant style coffee-maker bubbled in one corner. Beds were arrayed behind them.

“Late night Donny?” Mary asked as he passed.

The Director smiled tightly. “Yeah. I was just researching a new foundation that popped up on my radar up-state, some sort of family trust. You doing the night shift alone?”

“No,” said Mary. “Vicki is somewhere around. I think she is in the kitchen making sandwiches for the ladies. We’re here until five and then the day folks come in.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” answered Mary.

Donny stopped at the door, looked out for a moment and headed back to the desk. “Anything else?” asked Mary.

“What do we have for women’s coats in the back? Anything in a small?”

“Not sure,” answered Mary. “You would have to take a look.”

Donny made his way behind the desk into their storeroom. He emerged with a clean, gently used women’s winter coat. Mary watched as he headed toward the door. Her guess was that there was someone outside. In any case Donny was the Director, he could do what he wanted. He stopped near the front door and pulled out his wallet, stuffing three twenty dollar bills into one of the jacket’s pockets. Donny went outside.

Amber’s eyes went wide as she saw the man exit the shelter and trot across the street in the crystalline darkness. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench as he approached. Amber knew Donny Ruthman – they had talked before.

“Hi Amber,” said Donny.

“Hi. Just ... just leave me alone. I don’t need anything. It’s not a good time.”

Donny carefully sat down, clutching the coat and his work backpack. “I know you’re okay Amber. I’m just saying hello,” he said carefully. Donald had been homeless himself for years, during a time he had struggled with addiction.

“Thanks,” the girl said, smiling weakly.

“What have you been up too Amber?” asked the man.

“I’m ... I’m in a lot of trouble,” said Amber struggling with her words.

“Okay,” said Donny. He had learned a long time ago that people like Amber would tell you want they wanted to, no more. “Well, this might help.” He sat the coat down on the bench next to Amber.

Amber put her hand on the new coat. She was filthy, more than usual given what had happened to her over the last few days. Donny just smiled.

“If you’re okay Amber, I’ll go,” the man said. Donny rose to leave, heading down the street to hail a cab. Amber’s eyes followed him. Once he was gone the girl snatched the new coat. She darted down the street, disposing of her old blood-stained yellow coat near a dumpster. Amber found the cash quickly and made her way to a shop to buy a sandwich and a bottle of water.

Amber vanished into the city as quickly as she could.

Several days later a broad smile was on Shelia Foster’s face as she walked into the Charles S. Hirsch Center for Forensic Sciences. This time she wasn’t just visiting; her backpack held her work laptop and a mess of official files from the John Doe Killer case last winter. Jacob Yarland was at the front desk to met her.

“Welcome aboard Shelia,” said Yarland with a smile and a handshake.

“I’m just on loan, Jacob,” she said smiling.

“I know, I know,” he responded. “We’re glad to have your help if only for a little bit. Any new insight you can offer will be useful. We picked up a little new evidence since we last talked as well. Let’s get you into our security system and then you can met the team and we can get to work.”

“Sounds good,” said Shelia.

They went through the half-hour long process of getting Shelia registered into the security system of the building and setting up an account for her. It was an easier process than usual, she was already in the law enforcement database and all the background checks had been finished long ago. She had a temporary security badge and an e-mail address by the end of the hour. Jacob lead her into the bowels of the building to the small desk she had been assigned a short time later.

“Are you all checked into the hotel?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh yeah,” answered Shelia. “Hotel 365 in the Bronx – three star glory.”

Jacob smiled. “Only the finest for our out of town help,” he commented.

“No problem,” said Shelia, smiling. “I’m not going to spend a lot of time there anyway. I’ll just have to get used to not having a car down here.”

“We have cabs, ubers, ride shares, car services, and a subway. New York City works all the time,” commented Jacob.

They were interrupted by a young man with sandy hair near Shelia’s new desk. “Hello Ms. Foster. I’m Thomas Duncan. I’ll be assisting you,” he said offering his hand. “I’m looking forward to working together.”

Shelia was surprised. “Well it’s nice to met you,” said Shelia. “Are you a Tom or a Thomas?”