The O’Connells Books 10 - 12

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

“I won’t be gone long,” Marcus said to Alison. “Charlotte is upstairs, sleeping, so let her sleep. I’m not too keen about leaving, but I have to stop in and take care of a few things.”

Marcus was still bothered by the call from Harold. After a late-night emergency city council meeting, they had been ordered to handle some campers in the park. It wasn’t something he could pass off to his deputy.

He took in his niece, who wore a baggy sweatshirt and sweats, as well as a nose ring he hadn’t noticed the night before. Her dark hair was shoulder length, and her feet were bare, but at least she’d worn boots to trudge across the street, coatless, after Jenny put Eva in the back of her Jeep to take her to school.

“Sure, I can do that,” Alison said, pulling out the earbuds plugged into her cell phone, which she tucked into the front pocket of her baggy sweatshirt.

“So you’re off school today?” Marcus said.

Alison shrugged. “I’m done my homework and caught up. I don’t need to be there today.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean, he wasn’t sure. He took her in, waiting for her to add anything else, but this was Alison, and depending on her mood, she was either chatty or not.

“Right, okay,” he said. “So your mom took Eva to school, and I shouldn’t be long, but do me a favor. If you’re listening to music, keep it down so you can keep an ear out for Charlotte. Food’s in the fridge, so help yourself to anything, and call me if anything comes up.” He held up his cell phone as if to make a point, to be sure she understood, as he pulled on his heavier coat and pocketed his phone. “If there’s anything, I mean anything, you call me.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t wake Charlotte, and don’t listen to music. I’ll just sit here, staring at the wall.”

For a second, he wondered if his expression showed his alarm.

“Just kidding, Uncle Marcus. You should see your face! I got this.”

“Right,” was all he managed to get out.

He glanced once up the stairs and then said nothing else as he stepped outside into the cold. The snow was falling, not heavy, just enough that he knew the roads would likely become a problem later. He thought of the emergency he had to deal with, and it had to be dealt with today, this morning, an order from the council. There were just some things about his job that he didn’t like.

He brushed off the snow that had already fallen on the sheriff’s car, which he’d started earlier, so it was now warm as he climbed behind the wheel. He pulled out just as his cell phone rang from where it was settled in the dash mount. He pressed the green answer button.

“Harold, on my way,” he said. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Change of plans,” Harold said. “Ryan called. He’s already there, and so is Lonnie.”

“Why is Lonnie there? I told you to make sure he stays in the office. I don’t want him out there, stirring things up.”

“Well, appears someone on the council is still calling Lonnie to handle things. Three guesses who.”

He swore under his breath, tired, giving way to the short fuse he was well aware he’d be functioning on today. “Let me guess: Murray Conway, the one who’s been vocal about getting me out as sheriff.”

There was silence for a second on the other end. “Didn’t know you’d heard about that,” Harold replied, an edge in his tone.

“I hear everything,” Marcus said. “Meet you out there.”

He disconnected the phone and flicked on his siren to move cars aside so he could get past as he drove into a neighborhood just outside downtown. He spotted his brother’s park ranger truck and two sheriff’s vehicles already there. The road was getting slick, and snow was coming down as he took in the park, which was filled with tents and tarps, some being taken down.

Marcus zipped up his coat as he stepped out of his car, seeing a sign on the fence about some development, something else on the county books. He didn’t understand why camping had suddenly become a crime for him to handle. Harold wore a knit hat, and Marcus rubbed his bare hands in the cold and walked over to him.

“Seems I missed something,” he said. “What happened?”

“Emergency meeting was called late last night. Apparently, some residents in the area complained about the campers not packing up and leaving in the morning. There’ve been a number of complaints of crime, drugs, garbage being scattered, a couple sheds being broken into, and public urination—because there are no bathrooms, so where the hell else are they supposed to go? A few of the residents have complained that they don’t want their parks used as toilets, and we’ve been ordered by the council to enforce the new bylaw. They can’t camp or stay here at all. Everyone who doesn’t pack up and leave, we’re to arrest them. Oh, and they added that the developer needs to have his equipment in here to start digging, because they’re putting in a new condo development, only I don’t think the residents in the area know that part.”

Marcus stopped walking as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his gloves, and pulled them on, taking in what he thought were maybe twenty tents. All he could do as he took in the sight was think of his Eva and her mother, Reine, because they’d been there, living just like this. It still lingered in the back of his mind, how dire it had been for them.

“I really f*****g hate this job sometimes,” he said. “So the neighbors complained, but we’re really doing this for the developer. So where are we supposed to move them to?”

Harold was walking beside him. It was too damn cold for them to be out here, anyway, he thought, as he took in the houses across the street. Seeing smoke from some of the chimneys, he couldn’t help thinking of the warm, comfortable beds everyone in those houses had.

“I already called the homeless warming shelter here, but they’re out of beds, and people have to be out during the day,” Harold said. “I’ve put a call in to two of the churches, as well, to see if they can do something. Council gave no solutions about what to do with them, just told us to kick them out.”

Ryan was talking to a group, writing something down, and he could see tents being disassembled. Lonnie was putting out someone’s fire, and Colby was having a discussion with an old woman. An old man was sitting on a box nearby, with an old coat on, a worn hat that had seen better days. His face was dirty. He saw men, women, a few kids, bundled up in the kinds of clothes people tossed out.

As he walked into the middle of the camp with Harold, he knew everyone was looking his way, and nothing about this left him feeling good.

“Any suggestions would be nice, Marcus,” Harold said. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but it’s cold out here, and it’s not just frostbite and exposure we need to worry about. These people are tired and have nothing. We can kick them out, but they’re going to have to find another spot to rest their heads—or are we supposed to follow them and keep moving them out? It’s not a solution. Heard there were some reports of theft, too. Someone’s camp stove is missing, and a backpack, money, food. I don’t know how people ever end up here.”

He stopped with Harold at a small green dome tent, which a man was taking down. He had to be Marcus’s age, early thirties, maybe, with light tangled hair sticking out from under his worn, dirty hat, and an old coat, with bare hands. A woman was there, too, rolling up a sleeping bag and blankets, packing up.

“Hey, there,” Marcus said. “You folks have a place to go?”

The man tossed a glance over his shoulder, then said to a boy, maybe ten or twelve, “John, finish rolling the tent.” Then he turned to Marcus. “No, Sheriff. We were in Bozeman before but were told to move on, so we found this place. I have my wife and two boys. We’re on foot now. My pickup was impounded in Missoula along with the tools I stored in the back. I used to work in construction until I was laid off, and I couldn’t afford to pay the fine. Was hoping to find some work, but the shelters are full, and now we have to move again. No idea where. Any ideas where I can get something for my kids, my wife? They’re cold.”

What the hell was he supposed to say? He took in the neighborhood around them. His family had a house and had never been forced, no matter how dire their situation, to live like this. He found himself looking to Harold.

“We’re looking for you,” Harold said. “I have some calls out…”

“Terrance, my watch is gone,” the woman called out, rummaging through a backpack.

The man strode over to her. “Are you sure? It can’t be.”

Marcus just took in the scene and the bleakness.

Some distance away, Lonnie was in an argument with a man, and suddenly he had him cuffed and on the ground. Marcus strode over just in time to see Lonnie with a knee in the man’s back.

“Get off him! He didn’t do anything,” a guy yelled out.

Marcus wasn’t liking this spike in emotions. He’d tried to fire Lonnie, but the council had blocked it. When tempers flared, he didn’t want to be on the wrong side of a problem.

“What’s going on here?” he called out, stepping in. “Get off him, Lonnie.”

“I did nothing wrong,” the handcuffed man said as Lonnie yanked him off the ground hard. He had a long scar on his face and smelled bad, with a beard and dark eyes. “He was tossing my things around. I told him to take his hands off them, but he started searching my bags, asking about drugs…”

“So you cuffed him?” Marcus said, giving everything to Lonnie, who was staring back at him with a look he knew well.

Their relationship had broken down to barely tolerating one another, with no respect and a mutual hatred that was significantly deteriorating into something that bordered on insubordination from Lonnie, who was likely undermining him every step of the way. Trust was trust, and there was none between them.

“For safety,” Lonnie said. “And I had probable cause for the search. A few over there said he’s been dealing in the camp.”

Right, of course, was all Marcus could think. “This true? You been dealing drugs?”

The man shook his head. “Who told you that? It’s a damn lie,” he yelled.

Marcus was aware that the people around them, all packing up, were looking over and watching. From the energy, he could feel that he was seen as the enemy.

“Just sit down on the ground here,” Marcus said, taking the man’s arm. He sat him down and gestured to Lonnie to move over, crossing his arms. “Someone told you he was dealing drugs. Who?”

Lonnie, who had been a thorn in his side and whom he had no respect for, made a noise and then gestured. “Some of the people who live across the way said drugs have been dealt out here. Crime is up. That’s why the council called an emergency meeting. The residents here have been demanding it be cleaned up. They want to come in here with their kids, but look at this mess. There’s s**t everywhere. They step out of their tents and use the bathroom right in front. It’s disgusting. Who’s going to clean this up? It’s an environmental hazard. And you know darn well that criminals hide out in homeless camps.”

He just took in Lonnie, then looked down to the man on the ground, sitting there. “You find anything in his bag?”

Lonnie seemed to consider something for a second, then shook his head. “Nope, but I haven’t searched him yet, and I didn’t finish looking through his things.”

“I’ve heard nothing that gave you any justification for a search, Lonnie. Uncuff him and let him go. You stay out of his things.”

“Marcus, I’m telling you, he’s got something…”

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you that when someone actually comes forward with some real evidence that gives probable cause, that’s a different story. Instead of being such a goddamn asshole, how about showing some empathy here and offering a solution? You know damn well the only thing the council said was to get these people out of the park. And are we doing it for the residents or the developer?”

Lonnie had backed up, saying nothing, and made no move to uncuff the man.

“Right, so this is how you’re playing it,” Marcus muttered, then pulled a key from his pocket and gave another glance to Lonnie as he uncuffed the man. He turned to see his brother coming his way, while Harold was still talking to Terrance and his wife and two boys.

“Pack up your things and move on out of here,” was all Marcus said to the man. Then he took another step toward Lonnie. “You’re not here to harass anyone or search their things. I don’t know what you were told to do or handle and for whom, but don’t forget you still work for me and report to me.”

Before Lonnie could add anything, Marcus walked away.

Ryan was almost to him. “Hey, how’s Charlotte? Didn’t think you’d be out here,” he said.

Marcus couldn’t help but see the scattered garbage and the helplessness of the situation. Yeah, someone was going to have to clean this up. “Had no choice, considering this…” He gestured and shook his head.

Ryan’s expression was grim too. “Heard the shelter’s full already. It’s pretty bad here. Talked to a few who are packing up. They said crime’s been bad. People are stealing. Seems the criminals and crooks hide out in here. One old woman—she looks eighty, I swear, but she’s only in her fifties—said her money was stolen from the socks she stashed it in. If you’re a woman on the streets and anyone knows you have money, it’s bad for you. Looks like she’s got a shiner. Someone knocked her around a bit. I asked her to talk to you, but she’s not interested.”

He just shook his head, seeing a few already walking with backpacks, full with the weight of what they had.

“How do you think people ever let things get this bad, having nothing?” Ryan asked.

Marcus wondered how to answer. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose once you hit the streets, there is no safety net. I guess we’re lucky. Because we have each other, this would never happen to us.” He looked over the young family and the way the father was herding his kids. The boys had bags lifted, carrying backpacks. “Owen still has his place empty?”

Ryan just narrowed his gaze. “Since he’s living with Tessa, yeah. He keeps it and uses his garage for his plumbing storage and office. Told him to list it, but you know Owen. Why?”

Marcus dragged his gaze over to the young father again, who lifted a backpack with the tent and bags. The gear seemed almost too much for them all to carry. “Because he’s got an empty house, and it’s cold out.” He reached over and smacked his hand over Ryan’s chest, then moved toward the family. “Terrance, hold up!” he called.

The man stopped and looked at him, and it was the look in his eyes that got to Marcus. There was no male ego. He’d had the s**t kicked out of him. He said nothing to Marcus, just looked over to his wife and kids, who were bundled in layers. “Yes, Sheriff, what is it?” He sounded tired and pissed.

“Where are you heading?” Marcus said.

The man hesitated a second, wary. “Toward the shelter. Maybe something will open up. Maybe I can get my wife and kids in, at least. But I’m not too interested in saying much else.”

Right, so he figured the police would follow them and tell them to move on again. Marcus wondered how many times that had happened.

“I may have something,” he said. “Just let me make a call. It’s at least a roof, something for now, until you can find your feet.”

He wasn’t sure, but he swore he saw a mist in the man’s eyes, which wasn’t from the cold. “I’d appreciate it, Sheriff. I really would.”

Marcus only nodded, then pulled out his phone, pulled off his gloves, and turned away.

Harold stepped up to him and said, “What are you doing?”

Marcus dialed Owen’s number. “Coming up with a solution for at least one family here. Get Lonnie and Colby to help you find something for everyone here, because this isn’t solving a problem, just moving it into someone else’s backyard. Call the rec center, all the churches…” He put the phone to his ear as it rang and took in Harold’s expression.

“Okay,” was all Harold said before walking over to Colby.

“She had the baby?” was how Owen answered.

“Not yet,” Marcus said. “But I need you to do something for me, and it’s a big ask.”

His brother hesitated on the other end. “Fine, sure. What do you need?”

He wondered if Owen would still be saying that when he heard what he was going to ask. “Your house, the empty one that you don’t live in… There’s a family here that’s got no place to go.”

There was silence.

“Owen, you there?”

“What, exactly, are you asking me?”

“They just need a roof over their heads. They’ve had a run of bad luck.”

Silence again for another second. “You asking me to rent my house to some strangers? Are you crazy?”

Marcus pulled in a breath, already hearing the no in his brother’s voice. “Well, not rent, considering they’ve got nothing, and I doubt they could pay you anything right now. Just come down here to the park we’re being forced to clear out. The homeless are camping here, and there’s a lot of people. It’s a family who’ve lost everything, from the looks of it. Just talk to them…but remember Reine and Eva? How about you do the right thing?”

He heard his brother swear on the other end as he waited. “No promises, Marcus. I don’t want my house wrecked.”

“That’s quite a leap, Owen.”

“Well, you hear the stories out there.”

“You hear one story, and it’s not everyone, and it’s not the whole story. Don’t start profiling, Owen. You know better. We lived through it.”

He waited a second, knowing this was a big ask, a big gamble.

“Fine,” was all his brother said before he hung up, promising he’d be there soon.

As Marcus stood in the middle of what was left of the camp, seeing the garbage and rot and filth, he wondered how the council could just vote to move them out without offering a solution to a very real problem. But then, there was no money in fixing homelessness, and it seemed no one had the motivation or interest to do the right thing.