Trauma

CHAPTER 34

After six hours of driving around and hunting for parking spaces, Carrie and David had acquired two sizable parking tickets and no leads. They had already been to the Motel 6 where Dr. Finley thought the vets were staying. DARPA covered the bill, but the manager said that Abington and Fasciani had not returned to their rooms all week. Carrie and David would have to keep looking.

Their current stop, the Pine Street Inn, was located in a multistory redbrick building tucked away on a quiet section of Harrison Avenue in downtown Boston. Two words on the placard mounted beside the front entrance communicated the nonprofit’s singular mission: ENDING HOMELESSNESS.

The day had been as eye-opening as it was frustrating. At BCH, Carrie had treated many of the city’s poor, but the shelters were an entirely different world. They housed hope and despair in equal measure. Having dealt with the bureaucracy of BCH, Carrie could only imagine the budget battles taking place at these shelters to keep the lights on and the people fed. After things settled down, she vowed, she’d donate her time and her funds, when possible, to do more to help. She had no doubt David would join her effort if she asked.

Carrie had seen some run-down, grungy-looking shelters throughout the day. The inside of the Pine Street Inn was, by contrast, a breath of fresh air. The building was clean, and the rooms she could see from the lobby looked airy, well lit, and filled with people of all colors, from all walks of life.

Carrie and David went straight to the reception area. From a plastic bag, Carrie removed colored printouts of the two missing men, taken from their veteran ID cards, which were on file with the VA. The photos were small and bore only a vague resemblance to the haunted men Carrie had operated on. She presented the printouts to the fresh-faced, mocha-skinned woman at the reception desk.

“Hi there,” Carrie said. “I’m searching for these two men. I was wondering if they’ve been here recently.”

Furrowing her brow, the receptionist gave each image a careful look. She handed the printouts back to Carrie with a pursed lip and a shake of the head.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “But we see a lot of folks coming and going. I suggest you keep checking back.”

David removed a small stack of printouts from his canvas carry bag and stepped forward.

“Could you take these and circulate them among the staff?” he asked.

“These fellows aren’t in any trouble, are they?” the receptionist asked. A wary look crossed her face.

David smiled as he produced his press ID. “No, not in the least,” he said. “I’m working on a story for my paper and I could use their help. That’s all.”

The receptionist accepted the explanation without question. Perhaps it was David’s charming smile, or the way he was dressed in a tailored blazer, crisp slacks and shirt, and blue patterned tie. Conducting the search under the guise of a reporter’s story, and not Carrie’s medical concerns, proved to be a winning idea. If confronted, Fasciani and Abington might be leery about anything having to do with leaving the VA against medical advice. But it had been strikeout after strikeout, everywhere they went. The Pine Street Inn was the last place on their list of Boston-area shelters.

Carrie and David ambled back to her Subaru in grim silence. By now, her legs had begun to tire, and after settling in behind the wheel Carrie massaged a bothersome knot out of her right quad. Another casualty of her troubles at the VA had been her commitment to her tri training. Her ligaments seemed to have shortened, and her joints were achy and stiff. Adding to the discomfort, the humid day had turned the car uncomfortably warm, and Carrie rolled down the windows without firing up the engine. No reason to waste gas, because she had no idea where they might be headed next.

David set his blazer down neatly on the backseat and picked up his clipboard of maps and notes. Looking over his shoulder, Carrie watched David draw a thick line with his Sharpie through the Pine Street Inn. The sheet of paper was full of thick lines — lots of places they had looked, dozens in all.

“What now?” Carrie asked. The dashboard clock said it was close to three o’clock. They had been out searching for seven hours without so much as a lunch break.

“We can drive to Worcester or Fall River,” David suggested as his eyes scanned the map.

Carrie was about to suggest they go get something to eat when David’s cell phone went off. His ringtone was a series of wind chimes, very new-agey, and not at all what Carrie imagined he would have set as the default.

David noticed Carrie’s look. “My downstairs neighbor has a four-year-old. She liked that ringtone best,” he said.

Carrie accepted the explanation with a smile as David glanced at the number. His expression changed. He clearly knew the caller and liked whoever it was. “Speak of the neighbor,” he said.

David put the caller on speakerphone. “Emma, light of my life, tell me you’ve got something.”

“Hey, you,” answered a female voice. “Listen, if I get fired for this, you have to find me a newspaper gig. Deal?”

“Deal,” David said. “As soon as I find one for myself.”

Carrie did not know who Emma was, but the woman, and more specifically her relationship to David, had her intrigued. Perhaps it was David’s reaction to her that piqued Carrie’s curiosity. She sounded young, and if a voice could make somebody attractive, it was Emma’s. The twinge of jealousy surprised Carrie. She did not know the first thing about David or Emma, or their relationship, but the feeling was undeniable.

“Now, what did you get for me?” David asked.

“Are you with that cute doctor you told me about?”

David’s face turned a shade of red. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said. “I’m with Carrie right now, and you happen to be on speakerphone.”

Emma laughed. Carrie felt relaxed with this woman, as if they could be friends.

Carrie raised an eyebrow and gave David an amused grin. “Hi Emma, I’m Carrie.”

“Delighted,” Emma said. “And yes, I have some useful intel.”

David’s reddened face returned to its normal pallor as he reached for a pen on the seat beside him.

“Go on,” he said.

“Steve Abington’s mother lives in Bangor, Maine. She has an unlisted phone number, I’m afraid; I checked. But I can text you the address.”

“Oh, Emma, you’re a lifesaver.”

“You can thank the DMV and the fact that I know my supervisor’s passwords.”

Carrie thought of her own bit of subterfuge with Navarro’s pass code, and her opinion of this Emma person spiked.

“Text what you got,” David said. “You’re a treasure.”

“That’s dear of you to say. But it was easy. You knew her name.”

“How did you know Steve’s mother’s name?” Carrie asked David.

“I’m a journalist,” David said with a shrug. “It’s my business to find stuff out.”

“And he’s good at it,” Emma said. “Careful with this one, Carrie. If he gets out of line, you call me.”

Carrie laughed. “I will.”

“Oh, Gabby wants to say hello,” Emma said. “Hang on a moment.”

Seconds later, a small, high-pitched voice squealed through the phone. “Hi, Uncle David!”

David’s whole face went supernova. Carrie’s heart swelled at seeing his reaction to the little girl’s voice. At this point she assumed Emma was David’s sister, and oddly, it felt like a relief.

“How are you, sweetheart?” David said.

“Good.”

“Are you being helpful to Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.”

The call went dead.

“All our calls are like that,” David said.

“So Emma is your sister?” Carrie asked.

“My landlord,” David said, and added, “It’s a long story.”

“And just who was that cute doctor your landlord was talking about?”

“What say we skip Worcester altogether and take a drive to see Steve’s mother in Bangor, Maine? She might know where he’s gone.” The redness in his face had come back.

“What time would we get there?” Carrie asked.

“If we leave now, we’d arrive around seven,” David said. “We could swing by her home, get a hotel, and come back in the morning.”

Carrie said, “Sure,” before she realized she’d spoken the word.