“I’m already late,” he groaned. “Go, I’ll wrap up here.” Maybe even skip his class. He had an A: he could get the notes from someone.
She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. “See you later.”
Lucas watched Lizzy leave, thinking about her, them, what might be, then he shook his head to clear it. Thinking about the future wasn’t going to get the work done.
He finished going through all the sorority girls on his list. As he pulled down Alexa Castillo’s profile, something jumped out at him.
Hometown: Kingman, Arizona.
Was that a coincidence? That a sorority sister who graduated the year before Candace was from Kingman? Had she returned after graduation? Were they close?
Could Candace have been visiting her that weekend?
If so, why didn’t she come forward?
He did another quick search but couldn’t find Alexa Castillo anywhere on social media. It was a common name, but no one fit on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. He searched for alumnae news in the Sigma Rho newsletters: nothing. The only thing he could find was her senior statement, where she said she planned on teaching elementary school. Nothing about where she would be teaching, no follow-ups.
He looked at his phone and realized he was going to be late meeting Regan at Sunrise Center.
He quickly packed up his backpack and left.
Twenty-Seven
Regan arrived before Lucas at Sunrise Center, though he’d texted her and said he was running late. She introduced herself to Willa March, who was happy to give her a tour of the facility while they waited. Willa was sixty, tall and slender, with blue eyes and gray hair.
The homeless shelter was on the edge of downtown, more than a mile east from the northern boundary of the NAU campus. It was in a semi-industrial area, away from homes, near public transportation, an urgent-care facility, and two churches. Willa had done an excellent job making the facility look inviting. It had once been a church and small school. The church was now the dining and recreation hall, the garden that separated it from the school was clean and well-maintained, with several tall trees in the center, and the school had been converted to both offices and dorm-style rooms for men. A building in the back—Willa said it had once been a strip mall—had been refashioned into small two-room apartments for families, mostly women with children.
“We have four full-time staff members, including myself, and dozens of volunteers. A drug counselor is here through a county program two days a week,” Willa said. “We can have a maximum of forty men in the dormitory, and six families in the apartments. I have a temporary permit for two four-bed dorm-style rooms for women downstairs, but usually the women here come in with their children. One person is on duty at night, and we have a staff suite.”
“The facility is impressive. Clean and functional.”
“We’ve accomplished so much from our humble beginnings. The city and the county provide some of our funding, churches provide most of the volunteers and help with the food program, and we have generous donors. Our clients work to keep the facility clean.”
Lucas approached them as they were talking in the garden. “Sorry I’m late. Hi, Ms. March.”
He glanced at Regan, and she knew that he’d found something, but he didn’t say anything.
“Willa. I told you,” the director said.
Because it was a pleasant afternoon, in spite of a steady wind, they sat outside at a picnic table. Regan noted that four men were gardening on the opposite side of the yard, and two young mothers were watching five children play on a jungle gym. Regan stared a moment too long, memories of her watching Chase laughing as he swooshed down the tall slide at their old neighborhood park. The feelings of grief and sorrow were momentarily overwhelming. She almost got up to leave, but she buried it. Pushing it aside gave her a headache.
She also felt something unfamiliar, a bittersweet sensation that swept over her. Chase was gone, she’d never hug him or watch him play or see his eyes light up when they went to baseball games. But she could remember. For the first time, her memories weren’t solely clouded by pain.
She averted her eyes, redirected her attention fully to the matter at hand. If anyone noticed her emotions, they didn’t say anything.
Lucas said, “Did you listen to the podcast this week?”
“Yes,” Willa said. “You want to talk to me about the gentleman who called in.”
“Yes. Do you know who he was?”
“I believe I do. I haven’t seen him here in a while, but I know he has a steady job. Travels for work.”