Catherine Palmer

Stranger In The Night


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got it in your bag?”

      “Um…” Now he was walking toward her. “Listen, Shauntay, I’ll be back soon. I promise. Would you give these papers to Sergeant Duff? I need to get going.”

      “You ain’t comin’ back. I met people like you before. Make promises and don’t do nothin’.”

      “No, I will be back.” Liz focused on the young woman’s mahogany eyes. “All right, Saturday. Two o’clock. You can do a braid for me.”

      She made an attempt to pass off the paperwork. Shauntay shrugged one shoulder and turned away. “We’ll see. C’mon, Duke. Let’s go talk to Raydell. Probably some Hypes out there on the street tryin’ to move in on our set.”

      “Wait. Please.” Liz wrapped her arms around the sheaf of documents as she watched Shauntay saunter away and Joshua Duff approach. This had been a mistake. She would get it over with as quickly as possible.

      “Liz Wallace.” His damp white T-shirt clung to his chest. Through the thin fabric, the tattoos were visible, marking his biceps. She dragged her focus to his face. White-flecked navy-blue eyes pinned her. “You’re here.”

      “As you see.” She made an effort to copy Shauntay’s gesture of indifference. “I thought I’d drop off a copy of my agency’s handbook and some of the other information I mentioned on the way to the airport this morning. Lists of supplies your family will need. Community resources. Government assistance programs. Here you go.” She held out the documents.

      He stood motionless. “Why did you come?”

      “The paperwork.” Again, she pushed it at him.

      “But I didn’t intend to see you again.”

      “You didn’t?” His statement confused her. “You’re still planning to resettle the refugee family from Paganda, aren’t you?”

      He appeared perplexed for a moment. Then he nodded. “Oh, yeah. I worked on it this afternoon.”

      “These will help you.”

      This time he took the paperwork. “You caught me off guard. I’ve been shooting hoops.”

      She tried not to look at his chest. “Yes. Well, I hope you’re having fun. This is a nice place for the kids. Your friend has done a good job.”

      “Do you want to meet Sam?”

      “No. I mean, I just swung by to drop off the copies. I’m on my way home. Please greet the Rudi family for me.”

      Before he could respond, she turned toward the door.

      “Hang on.” He caught her arm, pulled her closer. “Liz, wait.”

      “Really, I have to go. I’m tired.”

      “Let me introduce you to Sam and Terell.” His hand cupping her elbow, he maneuvered her onto the basketball court. “Sam agreed to help me find Pastor Stephen a job. The guy wants to start a church, but—”

      “He does?” Joy washed through her. “We desperately need local churches for the refugees. Pastor Stephen speaks Swahili, right? It’s a common language in eastern Paganda, and many of our people pick it up while they’re living in refugee camps in Kenya or Tanzania. I’ve been hoping to start a Bible study for Swahili speakers at my apartment.”

      “You know Swahili?”

      “Not well. I learned a little while I was in the DRC, and I’ve been taking classes at the community center. It’s part of my preparation for the UN job.”

      He stopped walking. “Africa. You’re going to Africa.”

      “Lord willing.”

      For a moment, they looked at each other. Liz sensed the activity around them, kids running by, balls bouncing, a child crying, whistles blowing. But all she saw was the desire in Joshua Duff’s eyes. Desire for her.

      He wanted her.

      She felt his hunger wrap around her chest and tighten her heart. Her own response caught in her throat, taking her breath away. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

      “Who’s this?”

      A deep voice broke the invisible shell that had surrounded them. Liz glanced up to see the towering T-Rex, the impression of height increased by a golden-haired child perched on his shoulders.

      “You got a lady friend, Duff? Why didn’t you tell us she was coming over? Welcome to Haven.” He stuck out a large hand. “I’m Terell Roberts. This is Brandy, up here. She’s my sidekick.”

      Liz shook Terell’s hand and focused on the child. The angelic illusion of pink cheeks and blond curls faded beneath the reality of the little girl’s runny nose, matted hair and grimy face.

      “Hi, Brandy. My name is Liz Wallace.” She returned to Terell. “And you must be T-Rex. Shauntay pointed you out. I work for Refugee Hope.”

      “Liz Wallace—you’re the lady who…” His eyes darted to Joshua for an instant and then back, looking her up and down. “I heard about you. Yeah, you live up to your billing.”

      At that, Joshua sobered. “Terell, can you introduce Liz to Sam? I remembered something I need to tell Pastor Stephen. Thanks for the paperwork, Liz. I’ll put this to good use.”

      Before she could reply, he strode away, leaving her alone with Terell and Brandy.

      “Sergeant Duff and I don’t get along, you see,” she said. “We got off to a bad start this morning at Refugee Hope. The Rudi family came to the States through a different agency, and I didn’t feel I could help them. So we had a bit of conflict.”

      “You did?” Terell studied Joshua, who was going into one of the small rooms that lined one side of the basketball court.

      “That’s not what Duff told Sam and me at supper. The way I hear it, you’re the prettiest thing he’s laid eyes on in years. Said you’re making him crazy.”

      Liz knotted her fingers together. “I’m sure he meant crazy in a negative way. Anyway, it’s been nice to meet you—and you, too, Brandy.”

      The little girl waved down from her perch. “Bye-bye!”

      “Hold on now—you need to meet Sam,” Terell said. “We’ve got refugees starting to come to Haven, and we need help figuring out how to handle them. Nobody on staff speaks Spanish or Swahili or any of that, and some of those kids talk like lightning in the strangest gobbledygook I’ve ever heard. Sam’s in the office. C’mon, Liz. Follow me.”

      Despite her urgency to get away, Liz could do nothing but accompany Terell to the youth center’s office with its long windows overlooking the main room. A striking man wearing Haven’s requisite white T-shirt rose from behind a desk as they entered.

      “Sam, meet Liz Wallace. Duff’s lady.” Terell lifted Brandy off his shoulders and set her on the floor. “Liz, this is Sam Hawke. We run Haven.”

      “Us and a slew of volunteers. So you’re the woman.” Sam smiled in a way that made Liz even more uncomfortable. “Duff was right.”

      “That’s what I told her,” Terell confirmed.

      “I’m glad you’re filling our resident Marine sergeant in on the refugee situation,” Sam continued. “We hope he’ll stick around and help us out. The refugees are starting to trickle in here, and I have a feeling we’re going to be inundated before long.”

      “I wouldn’t be surprised. Several resettlement agencies have contracts with apartment managers in this area. Refugee Hope placed families from Burundi and Congo right around the corner. We’re negotiating with a manager to place some incoming Somali immigrants in a building down the street. Terell mentioned that Reverend Rudi is interested in planting a church in the area. I hope you’ll encourage that.”