Stranger in the Night (15 page)

Joshua let out a breath. He was trying to make sure that Raydell and the other two teens stayed focused at the far end of the empty lot. With children milling around, the sounds of talking, shovels and jackhammers filling the air and curious onlookers gathering, conditions were ripe for trouble.

“Look, Pastor S., I appreciate your knowledge of the Bible,” he said, wrapping the end of Duke’s leash around his palm. “I’m glad you want to share it here in America. But I—”

“Ezekiel saw four cherubim,” Stephen cut in. Raising his
hands, he spoke as if he were the prophet himself.
“‘And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber, out of the midst of the fire. Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man. And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings.’”

“Pastor Stephen.” Joshua reached out and set his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Calm down now, all right? We’re not seeing visions here in St. Louis. We’re watching for Hypes. I’ve trained Raydell and the other two men, and we’ve got it covered.”

“‘As for the likeness of their faces,’”
Stephen continued,
“‘they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle.’”

“I don’t have four faces, Pastor, but I am on the lookout for trouble. And I’d do a better job if you and Ezekiel would march over there to where Sam is trying to mark out the basketball court. If you want stakes, that’s where you’ll find them. He’s got a whole bucketful. And by the way, your son has his hands down in that bucket.”

“Virtue?” The pastor swung around, spotted his five-year-old and hurried away. “Virtue, leave the bucket! Put down those stakes!”

Joshua couldn’t help but grin. The fact was, he liked Stephen Rudi and his little Pagandan family—especially the children. Virtue loved to imitate his father, waving his hands and wagging his finger at people. More than once, Joshua had seen the little boy hauling around the big black Bible his father read so diligently every night.

Charity was blossoming at school, and Virtue ate up every minute of kindergarten. It was hard to believe how fast both kids were picking up the English language. Their father helped,
of course, poring over their homework each night and correcting spoken language mistakes. Joshua had become fairly proficient in the tongues of Iraq and Afghanistan, but it had taken great effort. The Rudi children were absorbing English faster than he ever could have hoped.

Joshua even admired silent little Mary Rudi. Focusing on the doorway of Haven, he spotted Stephen’s wife standing in the shadow of the awning and watching the scene from behind her large spectacles. She wore her usual colorful head scarf and one of her three plain dresses, as she had every day since the Pagandan family appeared outside the youth center.

Arms crossed, Mary wore a pinched frown on her lips, as if everything she saw displeased her. The woman did not have the most welcoming personality, but Joshua believed she took good care of her two stepchildren and her husband—making beds, toting laundry down long flights of stairs to Haven’s basement washers and dryers, cooking traditional meals on the hot plate Joshua had purchased, working long hours at her cleaning job.

The women in any war-torn country suffered the most, he knew. They were the spoils of battle. Sexual terrorism was not a term in his training manuals, but he had seen its effects in the faces of victims—women huddled by the side of the road begging for food, creatures cast off from society even though they were the ones who had suffered violations almost too atrocious to believe.

Inside the heart of Mary Rudi, there would be such a story, Joshua surmised. He doubted even her husband knew what she had suffered before their marriage in the refugee camp in Kenya. Her sour expression, terse comments and joyless performance of the acts in her daily living could be forgiven. She deserved some hope in her life.

To that end, Joshua had canceled their apartment lease. After
leaving Liz, he realized he could never put the Rudi family in such a place. He hated the thought that Liz still lived down that musty hall in a tiny apartment behind a flimsy door. He chastised himself for abandoning her there. If he’d been thinking more clearly, he would have picked the woman up, tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her off to a hotel whether she liked it or not.

But her kisses had overwhelmed his senses. Her tears had caught him off guard. The strength of his own feelings for her had startled him. And when she sent him away, he went.

“Yo, Sarge!” Raydell’s call from the far end of the lot alerted Joshua to a group of young men gathering across the street. At his side, Duke’s ears pricked up and the hair on the dog’s back bristled.

Hypes. Their purple do-rags and scrawny physiques gave them away. Baggy jeans hung low on their hips. White T-shirts set off colorful tattoos. Dark sunglasses. Chains with gem-studded pendants. They slouched, eyed each other, smoked cigarettes. Sullen. Brooding. Their facial expressions revealed pride and mockery. They thought Haven was a joke.

Joshua checked his young guards. They stood stiff and expressionless. Frightened. Their posture revealed too much. He would have preferred Raydell and the others to relax and monitor the street in a way that didn’t shout alarm, trepidation, fear.

But the Haven youths
were
afraid. The Hypes were armed, and they meant business.

Pondering the best strategy for such a situation, Joshua started toward Raydell. The Hypes might be bluffing. Or they might have a plan to disrupt the work going on outside Haven. Joshua could hand Duke off to Raydell, cross the street and confront the gangbangers. Tell them he was tracking Mo Ded, that he would find him and put a stop to their nonsense.

Joshua had left Liz in her apartment four days before, and since that time he had concentrated his efforts on pinning down Haven’s green-eyed adversary. He had no doubt he could find a
way to snuff Mo Ded’s reign of terror. But so far the method eluded him.

“How many you count, Raydell?” he asked.

“Six. Look at ’em flying their colors. They’re probably strapped, too. They go everywhere in threes, yo. Just like you said. Three of ’em came around that corner. Three were in the restaurant down the street. The other three, I didn’t see where they were hanging before they joined up. They all got them phones stuck on their ears, and they never stop talking.”

“Those phones are the way Mo Ded controls his turf. He’s watching the set right now, but we won’t see him out in the open. He’ll be talking his people through every move they make. Man, I’d love to get my hands on one of those phones.”

“You ain’t never gonna do that, dog.”

“U. S. Marine Corps, Raydell—
never
is not in our vocabulary. We do what has to be done or die trying.”

“Die trying? Now you sounding like a gangbanger yourself. Maybe that Marine Corps of yours is a gang, huh?”

Joshua bent and stroked the fur between Duke’s ears. “Troops, training, protecting turf. Could be a little bit like a gang. But we’re not in the business of running guns or selling drugs. We defend our country. Do battle against America’s enemies. The Marines don’t make people jump off the porch to get in. No one has to get beaten in or go on a mission if they want to join. You just sign up and hope you’ve got what it takes. If you want out, you get discharged. Nobody kills you for leaving the Corps.”

“Yo, we got more trouble now. There’s D. Loc and Big Man down the way. They’re Crips.” Raydell began to breathe hard. “This ain’t good, dog. You can’t have Crips and Hypes on the same set. Not when one of ’em is staking out turf. We’re about to have a problem, Sarge.”

Joshua instinctively felt for his weapon—and once again realized it was missing. He handed Duke’s leash to Raydell. “Stay
calm. I’ll talk to the other guys on guard. Don’t do anything, man. Don’t make a move. We have to let this play out.”

“Listen, D. Loc is a pipe head.” Raydell caught Joshua. “Crack has him all messed up. But Big Man, he’s a real hoodsta. You don’t want to mess with him.”

“Neither do you. If we handle this right, Mo Ded’s people can mess with Big Man, and we’ll be watching from the sidelines.”

Joshua saw that his other two rookie guards were already aware of the trouble brewing across the street. Against his instructions, they had left their posts. Heads together, they gave off every possible indication of insecurity, fear and lack of preparation.

Though the four on duty were alert to the current gang problem, Joshua realized that no one else in the area was paying attention. Sam was directing kids as they staked out the basketball court. Terell was helping two teens examine a jackhammer someone had donated to the cause. So far they hadn’t figured out how to start the thing. Children raced around the empty lot. A group of girls played jump rope on the sidewalk. Balls bounced. People shouted instructions, measurements, requests back and forth to each other.

And then Liz Wallace drove up. Her car pulled into a space across the street, directly in front of the growing collection of Hypes—now there were a dozen. Joshua couldn’t believe his eyes.

But he was seeing reality. Liz left the driver’s side of her car, straightened and hooked her purse over her shoulder. A young man with dark curly hair and a laptop under his arm climbed out through the passenger door. Oblivious to the stage they had just entered, they spoke to each other for a moment across the car’s roof.

“Yo, that’s Matt Strong.” Raydell grabbed Joshua’s arm as Liz moved onto the sidewalk to join the younger man. “He’s got your woman with him. They walkin’ right into the middle of the Hypes. Dog, we better do somethin’!”

As Liz waded through the cluster of purple do-rags and sagging jeans, a burst of adrenaline shot through Joshua’s veins.

“Don’t move,” he barked at Raydell.

Eyes trained on the pretty woman in the green dress, he strode into the street.

L
iz saw Joshua coming and leaned toward Matt. “Oh, dear. I didn’t expect him to be outside. Not right here first thing.”

“Who—the soldier-looking guy? You know him?” Matt shot Liz a smirk. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Why do people always assume that? No. Of course not.”

“Hey, there’s Raydell with Duke.” Matt lifted a hand to wave. “And Sam’s over by the door. What are they all doing outside? I don’t see T-Rex—oh, yeah, there he is. I haven’t seen any of these guys since I was here last summer. Did I tell you I came to Missouri on a mission trip and helped set up Haven’s computer system?”

Before Liz could reply, Matt was stepping out into the street. He greeted Joshua in passing but got no response. The teen hurried ahead, joined Raydell and vanished into the cluster of Haven volunteers.

“Liz, walk toward me.” Joshua’s voice was deep. He reached for her, caught her around the shoulders, pulled her close. “Stay right with me. Don’t say a word until I get you across the street.”

Sucking in a breath, Liz all at once understood. The people on the sidewalk around her. The vague tinge of purple. The dancelike movements as figures paired off, reformed, parted again. She looked for green eyes but didn’t see them.

Joshua moved her out into the roadway, paused to let a car pass, pressed her in a fast walk toward the bustle of the lot beside Haven.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see them when I pulled up.” She felt his chest against her shoulder. He was protecting her, shielding her from behind with his body. “I should have called ahead, but I was hoping…”

“Hoping to avoid me?”

“No, Joshua. Hoping it would be less intense between us if I just showed up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on duty, anyway.” He ushered her into the relative safety of the group outside Haven. “Hawke and Terell decided to go ahead with the rec area. I agreed to patrol. But the thing is out of control. The enemy is gathering force.”

“I walked right into the Hypes.”

“And a few Crips.” He turned to scan the street again. “Can’t tell if they’re just watching, or if they’ve got something planned. Why did you come?”

“Mary Rudi.” Liz spotted the small woman in the shadow of Haven’s front awning. “I got a call today from Apex Cleaning. Her boss contacted me because he thought Mary came to St. Louis through Refugee Hope. She hasn’t been showing up for work.”

Joshua looked at Liz, his blue eyes truly focusing on her face for the first time since she arrived. His dark brows narrowed in confusion.

“I drive Mary to work every evening,” he said. “I drop her off at Apex. Front door. Jim Boggs—the night shift boss. He’s always waiting there with the others on her crew. She goes right inside.”

“Evidently she accompanies the crew to the work site, but
then she vanishes. Jim is planning to fire her unless she complies with his rules.”

“She can’t lose that job. They need the money. I’ve decided to put them in a better apartment, but it’s going to cost an arm and a leg.”

“I’ll talk to her.” She started toward the woman, then paused. “Joshua, you’re doing good work with the Rudis, you know. I’m afraid this is how it often goes. Things are never easy for our refugees. Mary is probably overwhelmed by the job but hasn’t figured out how to tell you. Maybe Matt or one of our other volunteers can stay with her for a few days until she learns the ropes and feels comfortable. We call it job shadowing. It helps them over the rough spots.”

She stepped away, but he took her arm. “Liz, I wish you hadn’t come down here. It’s not safe.”

“Joshua, look at all the people around you. Others are here—children, teenagers, grandmas. Why should I stay away?”

“Because three more Hypes just walked out of that alley. We’ve got more than a dozen of them milling around now. I’d almost swear they’re taking up offensive positions. Crips are gathering, too, and I don’t know how that figures into the equation. Hawke asked the police to step up their patrols of the street today. Right now would be a good time for a squad car to swing by.”

“Joshua, the gangs are not after me. I have work to do here.”

“Liz, you must not get hurt.” He snapped out the words. “This place is…wrong for you. You should come to Texas with me. Take a break from the gangs and the refugees. Sit by the pool.”

For a moment Liz couldn’t move.

Joshua wanted her to go to his home. Sit by his swimming pool.

But he had said those things almost in anger. And what did they even mean?

She shook her head. “I’d better go talk to Mary.”

“I leave in three days.”

Liz studied the man. Eyes trained on the street and sidewalk opposite Haven, he hardly seemed aware of her. Yet she sensed that from the moment she drove up, she had been his central focus.

“Three days,” she echoed. “That’s not long. How will they make it without you?”

“They?”

“Haven. Your friends need your help.” She gripped her purse strap. “And I’ve missed you.”

Blue eyes darted to her and then away again. “I keep thinking I’ve got it licked. Wanting you.” He gave a wry smile. “I’m doing a better job managing the PTSD.”

“I don’t know how to fix this, Joshua,” she said softly. “I don’t know how to make this thing with us work. But I can’t go sit by a swimming pool in Texas.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll talk to Mary.” For fear she might say too much, Liz hurried through the crowd.

As she approached, Mary Rudi noticed her and made a move to push open the door and step back inside the building. Liz called out.

“Mary, please wait.
Ngoja!
”

The small woman halted, hung her head, knotted her fingers together. She said nothing.

“Mary, I had a phone call today.” Liz took out her phone to demonstrate. “Jim Boggs called me. From the cleaning company. He wanted to talk about you.”

Head bent, Mary didn’t move. Liz had no idea if the woman was understanding a word she said. Spotting Charity in the jump rope line, she beckoned the little girl.

“Do you remember me, Charity?” Liz crouched to the youngster’s level.

Bright eyes flashing, Charity took her hand. “I am seven years old! I jump!”

“You’re a good jumper. Can you please talk to your mother for me, Charity? Will you tell her not to leave her work at night? She must go to her job and stay with the group until all the work is finished.”

“I am from Paganda,” Charity said.

“Yes, I remember that. And now you live here.” This wasn’t going as well as Liz had hoped. “Does your mother understand English?”

Charity shook her head. Her whole body turned back and forth with the denial. “She can’t talk English. Mary never do talk to me. She don’t talk to Virtue, also. My father can talk English gooder than Mary.”

Liz looked up to find that the woman had shifted away from Charity. She was hunting for something in her purse. The little girl must find it hard to accept such a distant, unemotional woman into the family. Especially after her birth mother had been so brutally murdered.

“I will find my father,” Charity said. “Wait!”

In moments, she had located Pastor Stephen. Holding his hand, she tugged him toward the two women. Liz called out a greeting.

“Thank you for helping out here, Pastor,” she said. “Will you please explain to Mary that her employer called me this morning? He’s very concerned about Mary’s work. He wants her to stay with the cleaning crew for the whole shift. She can’t leave. She has to remain with the others until the job is done. If she leaves again, he will have to let her go.”

“Do you mean he will sack her?” Stephen’s eyes went wide. “But why does this man say my wife is not doing her work? She tells me she is cleaning every night.”

“There must be some confusion. Her boss says that after a short time, she stops working and leaves the rest of the crew to
finish the job. Please tell Mary that if she needs someone to help her learn how to do the work, I will find a volunteer. She can succeed at this, and we want to help her.”

Stephen spoke to his wife in the Pagandan language. The entire time, Mary kept her shoulder to him, as if she didn’t want to hear the message. After a long silence, she muttered a few words.

“Mary says she will stay with the crew,” Stephen translated. “She does not need your help, because she knows how to do this work.”

Noting that Charity had raced back to the jump-rope girls, Liz spoke quietly to Stephen. “Your wife seems very sad, Pastor. Is there anything I can do to assist with her adjustment to America? Refugee Hope has contracts with several counselors in the city. Maybe Mary should talk to someone about her past. I’m afraid she’s not doing well here.”

“This is always her way,” Stephen confided. “Mary is a quiet woman who only wants to live a peaceful life. When I met her in the refugee camp, she was in a very bad situation. The rebels…they had harmed her. You understand my meaning? The soldiers did that kind of thing which is called rape. This was done to Mary. She was injured very much in this event—inside her body—but she refused to allow a doctor to examine her because of fear. She saw with her own eyes the killing of her husband and all her children. She had five children, all killed with machetes. She was just this same way in the camp. Very quiet. My situation there was also bad. So I suggested that we make a marriage to help each other.”

“You do help each other a lot,” Liz said.

He sighed. “Yes, and I hoped my wife would become happy. I thought that my children might make her cheerful. I pray for her every day that she may find the great joy of knowing God even in suffering. But now I fear this is not to be.”

“Maybe one day she’ll feel better. How long have you been married?”

“A short time. My name was on the list to go to America when I met her. Actually, she found me. Mary heard me preaching in the church at our camp. Afterward, she wanted to talk to me in private, to get some help. She told me some things that had happened in her life. I felt it would be good to marry her. I wished to assist her and also to give my children another woman who could be like a mother for them. I had to work hard to get Mary’s name entered onto the list, but with God’s mercy, I was successful.”

Liz studied the small woman. Mary seemed to be drawing into herself even as they spoke. It was as if she wanted to shrink away into nonexistence.

“Would you object to the possibility of counseling for your wife?” Liz asked Stephen. “Or a physician? Maybe if Mary were able to talk to a female doctor about what happened, about her losses and her pain, she might let go of the past a little bit. Maybe if she could learn to accept the truth, she would find hope.”

He shrugged. “I will speak to my wife about this. But she cannot talk English, and she will not be willing to tell another Pagandan what happened to her back there.”

“Maybe
you
could translate for the doctor.”

“This would be impossible. I am her husband, and she does not wish me to know all of the things which she suffered. She believes I will reject her if I learn more about these bad events.”

“But you wouldn’t reject her. You love her.”

“Of course I do, but—”

The screech of car tires drowned his words. Deafening bangs split the air. Firecrackers? What? Why now?

Someone screamed.

Confused, Liz searched the crowd. Shrieking people ran for
Haven’s front door. One crashed into Liz, nearly knocking her down. She smelled gunpowder.

Too late, realization hit. A drive-by shooting. Police vehicles rounded the corner, sirens wailing. Liz backed up against the red-brick wall as people surged into the building.

Scanning the chaos, she spotted him. Joshua was down. Hunched over, he huddled on the ground. Blood spattered across the dry dirt of the bare lot.

“Joshua!” Shouting his name, she ran to him. “Joshua! Joshua! God, please help us!”

As she fell to her knees, Joshua lifted his head. His blue eyes met hers. Then she saw another figure lying beneath the man. A boy.

“It’s Virtue.” Joshua grabbed her arm. “Get the medics, Liz. Get them now!”

She scrambled to her feet, but the police were there already. They crowded around Joshua and the child. There was another victim, too. Near the edge of the empty lot, a group of people gathered, shouting at each other, pushing, yelling instructions. Before Liz could drink down a breath, the medical technicians arrived. And then Stephen Rudi began to howl.

Liz turned to the man who stood gazing down in horror at his fallen child. “Stephen? Pastor, I’m here with you.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he covered his face with his hands and cried out. “My boy! My son!”

Her own tears spilling, Liz embraced the man. “Dear Lord,” she prayed. “Please help us now. Save Virtue. Preserve this child’s life.”

“Where are you, my God!” Stephen raised his face and hands, shouting to the sky. “My God, my God—why have You forsaken me?”

“Baba?”
It was Charity. Trembling, she clutched at her father’s fingers.

Liz bent and scooped the weeping child into her arms. “Hold on to me, Charity. I’ll keep you safe.”