I looked around our tight accommodations. “This is better than anything I slept in on the street.” I took his hand, lifting it to my lips. I kissed the back of it and then looked up at him. “I feel safe in here with you.”
He nodded. “Don’t get complacent, Wes. This isn’t safe. Bad things happen at night.”
“We should probably get out there and look around then. Maybe start asking questions?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that.”
“What?” I was truly interested in how he wanted to approach things.
“My accent is goin’ to make us stand out and that’s the last thing we want to do.”
“So, that means you want me to do all the talking?”
He nodded. “Yeah, at least until we’ve talked to enough folks to see who they’ve felt most unsettled by.” Patsy reached into his pocket and pulled out the earwigs. He put them in, and I did the same. “Candy? Come in, Captain.”
“Roger. I hear you loud and clear.” The response instantly came back.
“I think my accent is goin’ to draw too much attention, so I want Wes to be askin’ the questions of people.”
“Okay, that might work. We’ll be listening.”
“Grand. We’ll head out to the camp now,” Patsy said, watching my face as he spoke. My attention was riveted on the conversation, not accustomed to the sound of voices in my ear. “If Wes gets an answer anyone wants a follow up on, ask in the earwig.”
“I’ll be as subtle as I can be,” I said into thin air. It felt so strange to talk to someone I couldn’t see without a device glued to my ear.
“Roger that, Wes,” Candy said. The affirmative was echoed by two other voices I thought I recognized as Nash and Napoleon.
“Let’s go poke around,” Patsy said, uncrossing his legs and getting up. I followed, only stopping before we stepped out of the tent to pull him into my arms. I kissed him, reveling in the softness of his lips beneath mine. Since I didn’t know what sounds the earwigs could pick up, I kept the kiss brief, breaking it too soon. Patsy’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled up at me. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Stay close,” Patsy said before opening the tent flap and then turning to zip it closed once we’d ducked out. I looked up and down the street, seeing very few people outside. “There,” Patsy said, pointing back toward the overpass where the camp was most congested with tents and makeshift homes.
“Why there?” I asked. “Won’t we stick out if we start asking all those people questions?”
“Look, Wes. See the men huddled around the bonfire? Let’s start with one wee group and take it from there.”
Sure enough, several people encircled a fifty-five-gallon oil drum where someone had lit a fire. The flames were visible well above the rim and the people around it stood with outstretched hands to soak up the heat.
“I somehow don’t think they’re gonna be friendly if we want to get close.”
Patsy shook his head. “Just need to be close enough to talk to some folks and there’s plenty of ‘em there.”
“Okay.” We headed off in that direction as Patsy updated Captain Sorensen on the plan.
“Roger, Patsy. Stay safe,” the Captain said.
“Hampstead and I are thirty feet behind you,” Napoleon’s deep voice said in the earwigs. “Don’t look back, Wes,” he said as I began to do just that.
“Sorry,” I said, immediately feeling stupid as I faced forward. The low chuckle that followed my apology didn’t make me feel any better. I wasn’t sure who it was since the party line had a lot of people listening in, but I promised myself I’d try to do better.
“New situation for him, yer, eejits.” Patsy said quietly.
“Roger,” Napoleon’s deep voice replied, “sorry.”
I shrugged off my embarrassment as we walked toward the overpass, stopping when we were about fifteen feet away from the oil drum. The men standing around it, looked up as Patsy turned to me and nodded. I swallowed and looked back at the crowd before walking closer. “Do you mind if we share your fire?” I asked an elderly man.
“Come on over,” he said, giving me a lopsided smile as he stepped sideways, opening a narrow spot where we could squeeze in. I noticed the smell of unwashed bodies almost immediately. It instantly brought me back to my time spentin the Hollywood homeless encampment. A sign that it didn’t matter what part of the world you lived in…lack of proper plumbing and running water and bitter poverty always produced the same results.
