Chapter 6- Cancellation
Donovan Liam Turnbullwas, in fact, a branch manager at a regional bank which fed into a larger banking system.Based on the information received at a top line scan from Mustang, the man lived and worked in Amarillo.His parents, who were still married, lived in Pueblo, Colorado where he grew up.There were no red flags on his life outside of the last six months when he’d removed all of his social media accounts.
“She's taken my life.I need help,” Helen repeated to herself as she took the first watch over Mr.Turnbull.
He had frostbite on the toes of both feet.His nose had frost nip, and a couple of the fingers appeared to just have missed danger.In the morning, she would ask about surveillance cameras, but evidently, Sour Grapes had none since there was no little red light flashing to indicate Mr.Turnbull’s arrival.A chill ran up Helen’s spine at the thought of a civilian being able to track a Technician and show up at their home.The bigger question of why was replaced with how.Then, the man moved.
“Bathroom,” he said.
“This way,” Helen said, rising, to show him to the water closet.
She had taken the watch because, in her estimation, Sour Grapes had enough on her hands with Bella.The last thing she needed was to oversee the stranger’s care.Even if he’d come looking for her, it didn't sit right with Helen.Sour Grapes didn't sit right with Helen.She was off in a distant sort of way.If there was anger in her, as evident in Passion Fruit and Lemon, it wasn't on the surface with this woman.Even the anger which simmered under the surface with Bad Apple was palpable.
Knives in one pocket, a nine in the other, she waited in the chair for the man to return.The toilet flushed, water ran, and the door opened.He stepped out, swaddled in the blankets.
“I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm rather hungry,” he said.“It was a long day and a hard journey to get here.Can I have a bite to eat?”
“Sure,” Helen said, rising.
“My clothes?”he asked,
“Wet from the snow.They are washed and dried if you want to put them on,” she said.
“Please,” he asked, sounding contrite and humble.
Helen didn't trust it.As far as she was concerned, a snake was hiding in the house, and she needed a spade to lob off its head.However, it wasn't her house, and she wasn't authorized for pest removal.She pointed to the washer and dryer, and he dipped into the laundry room to don his shirt and pants.A moment later, he surfaced in the kitchen to a tuna sandwich and a cup of tea.
“Thank you,” he said, biting into the sandwich.A small frown touched his lips, but he took another bite.
“Anything wrong with the sandwich?”
“I hate tuna,” he said, taking another bite.
“But you're eating it?”
“I'm hungry.I'm a beggar, and I can't be choosy,” he said.“I'm more grateful than anything I wasn't shot.”
Helen said nothing as she sat with the man, waiting for the dumb to come out of his mouth, especially considering the two white women in the home were in bed, leaving her on watch duty.She fully expected him to think she was the housekeeper or personal security.He said nothing, just ate the sandwich.When he was done, he looked up at her.
“I noticed the cream on my nose; you did that?”he asked.
“Yes.Jack Frost actually nipped at your nose,” she said.“He also may make you lose a couple of toes.I know your feet are hurting.”
“The feeling hasn't fully returned to them yet,” he said.“I can feel the throbbing and ache in my feet, but I walked a good distance from the far side of the lake since I left my car in Minneapolis.”
“Hmm,” Helen replied.“You need more food?”
“No, that will suffice,” he said softly.He took his dish to the sink, washing both the cup and plate and placing them in the drain.For a moment, he simply stood at the sink as if he were waiting for Helen to say something, ask something, demand something of him.
“Mr.Turnbull, rest tonight.Take a breather, and if it is any consolation, you're safe, at least for now,” Helen said.
He turned.His eyes were brimming with tears.The man broke.His body shuddered with the tears he cried, and Helen, unmoved by it, gave him the space to process whatever torment had made him Uber from Minneapolis to Mendota Heights on a prayer.That story would be up to Sour Grapes to hear.
“I will stay with you, watch over you as you rest,” she offered.
