Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Jason, he has a bright red tent. How could you not see him?” I argued.
He shrugged, and I could tell he was wondering if I’d lost it.
“I’m telling you,” I said. “He didn’t leave. Not until this morning.”
“I don’t know what to say, Meri. I haven’t seen anyone.”
What the hell? Was he playing a trick on me? How could he not notice Beau for four weeks?
Suddenly, Mrs. Trudy came out of her apartment next door to Jason’s, her silver hair up in a bun. She wore five layers of sweaters over her house dress.
“Hey, Mrs. Trudy,” said Jason, “have you seen a man hanging around in the alley lately?”
“No. But someone hasn’t been separating their recycling again.” She gave me a harsh look.
She went through my trash? “I ran out of space in my recycle container. It was just one yogurt cup.”
She shook her head. “You lazy people are destroying the planet.”
Jeez. It was just one time. “Are you sure you haven’t seen anyone living by the dumpster, Mrs. Trudy? Red tent? Tall?” Sexy jawline?
“No. I would’ve told Jason. We can’t have vagabonds living anywhere they like, all willy-nilly. Why do you think I give ten percent to the church?”
Mrs. Trudy? Give ten percent? She was so cheap that I once caught her putting her dirty clothes in with someone else’s at the laundromat down the street. Gross. Also, she frequently picked the lock on my mailbox and stole my coupons. Meanwhile, she drove a Benz. And not one of those old diesel-guzzling monsters either.
“Okay, well, if you see the guy, will you let me know?” I said. “I have a package for him.”
“I’ll call the police is what I’ll do,” said Mrs. Trudy.
I sighed with exasperation and went upstairs. It made no sense how the other tenants hadn’t noticed Beau in over a month. Were they that self-absorbed and blind to the homeless?
Desperate to find Beau, I called Shawna again, but it went to voicemail.
With no other options, I grabbed my purse and keys and headed out.
I ended up driving around the city, hitting the shelters, parks, and bus station, but there was no sign of Beau. By the time I got home, it was pouring rain outside and freezing cold. The thought of him wandering around, trying to get dry and warm, made my heart ache.
Of course, that was foolish of me. Beau wasn’t stupid or without resources. He knew how to take care of himself, even if it was under uncomfortable circumstances.
So where would a man like him go?
I made some hot tea, my mind spinning. I wanted to make things right, but how? I had to start by finding him and delivering this package.
The package… I eyed the red box on my coffee table. What was inside? It had to be something important. Maybe it’ll give me a clue to where he went.
No, you’re just being nosy. “I’m not opening you. Do you hear me, red box? Not happening.”
But as the seconds ticked by, I knew I was about to do something terribly wrong.
I reached for the box, untied the ribbon, and looked inside. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this. A letter.
I unfolded the thick parchment:
Beau,
I received your last petition, and while you say you’ve truly repented for your past, I see that you still haven’t changed.
I urge you to stop playing games because time is almost up.
If you ever want to see her again, you know what you must do.
– Dad
My hands began shaking. “See her again?” Was his own father holding someone Beau loved as a hostage? His wife? His daughter? Who? And how could his own father do this to him? What had Beau done?
It doesn’t matter. Because it was clear to me that Beau’s dad was punishing him for something. Maybe it was for something terrible, but this was no way to treat your child.
When I’d been caught cheating on a test in high school, my dad didn’t yell or punish me. He told me how much he loved me and then cried like a little kid. He’d said that my failures were his and that he hadn’t done his job properly. Otherwise, why would I have done something so stupid?
Now, you might say to yourself, “What a kind, sensitive parent,” but no. My dad was a guilt pirate. He said all that stuff because he understood that parental guilt was the best weapon in his fatherly arsenal. Because there was nothing more terrifying than seeing your father cry. Needless to say, I never cheated again.
In any case, it appeared that this entire situation was about punishing Beau with massive guilt. That poor woman. I could only hope they weren’t torturing her while Beau attempted to appease his evil dad.
I had to help him. But first, I had to find him.