Page 84 of Shrapnel

She blinked at Jamie’s abrupt tone. “I would hardly know, would I?”

“Would you?”

Her eyes widened at the implication, lips that were surely only modestly glossed with chapstick falling open. “Sometimes I serve the homeless food. The Father likes to make sure everyone has a full belly on cold days.”

Elijah pinched Jamie’s arm. It was a warning. The sharp pain cooled his head, and he resumed what he hoped was a normal smile. He could never tell.

“Did they ever say anything? About this man?”

“Not about him in particular,” she hedged. “But they did say some strange things. About a demon. Poor things.”

“Do the homeless hang out anywhere? A place they like to sleep or something?”

She chewed her lower lip, looking down bashfully. “I…I don’t know exactly, of course, but they do mention a place they go…”

Elijah nodded encouragingly. “Whatever you can tell us would be helpful.” The boy scout smile works every time.

“You know the West side? The part the city cleared out for urbanization or whatever?”

Jamie did know. Several blocks of the city had been completely emptied. Businesses and homes abandoned. Bought for pennies by the government so they could renovate or whatever the hell it was they did. That was a few years ago. Allegedly, the red tape was taking longer to cut through than anyone could have imagined. Now, it was just a ghost town.

“Well, apparently, there is an abandoned den of depravity that they like to hang out in.”

Jamie stared at her blankly. “Which kind of depravity? You’ll have to be more specific.”

She blushed cutely, cheeks petal pink. “I think…oh goodness, they call it The Cleft.” Her voice dropped so low Jamie could barely hear it.

“Perfect, thanks.” He swiped the photos up and she grabbed his wrist, gently holding it in a way that was supposed to be comforting but it made Jamie homicidal. He glared down at her slim fingers, eye twitching a little with the strain of not pulling his gun and stuffing the muzzle in her mouth. Would her teeth shatter?

“Good luck. Remember, God is always with you.”

His jaw cracked. “Is he?”

“Yes. He is always watching.”

A chuckle that had no traces of humor bubbled out from between his lips. “God’s watching me getting hate fucked in a seedy South American motel? God’s a pervert.”

Her hands jerked away from him. She stood so fast her chair fell backward.

“I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Elijah didn’t have the words to apologize for Jamie so he just followed him out of the office. On his way out, he stared at the pews. Stopping, he took in the little stools that folded down for kneeling. He could vividly remember just how loud they sounded when they dropped in the middle of a service. Feel the sting of his mother’s palm when she slapped him for dropping it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Elijah complained.

“Why? Did you want to marry her? Have 1.93 children and a dog named Skippy?”

Elijah opened his mouth but then caught the look in Jamie’s eye. He exhaled slowly. “Are you ok?”

He smirked. “I’m at peace with the Lord.”

Elijah didn’t push it. That was something about Elijah that Jamie liked. He never pushed or asked for answers. There was an innate understanding that some things were off-limits, and he respected that. Elijah accepted Jamie’s lies, let him hide behind them. Elijah was safe.

As they exited the church and made their way back to the car, Jamie caught sight of a man sitting beside the garden. He had not been there when they entered. Shoulders covered by a pile of ratty blankets, he had a chipped bowl sitting in front of him.

Veering off, Jamie came closer. He was surprised to see a thick white bandage across the man’s eyes. His greying hair was a riotous mess of tangles around his head and the skin peeking out from under the bandage was wrinkled and rough.

Careful to scuff his shoes so the man could hear him coming, Jamie stopped in front of him. “Hey, old man. You heard about an old strip joint called The Cleft?”