CHAPTER4
The sky wasa rolling blanket of clouds the color of wet ash, and the cold wind was bone-chilling, even through Lenny Barker’s extra layers of clothing. The streets were dark, and all the shops were closed. After shuffling over the uneven sidewalk, he sat on the concrete steps of the neighborhood thrift shop, wrapped his arms around his knees, and kept his gaze fixed on the parking garage across the street. If he was lucky, a car would turn into the garage, and he could sneak in behind it and find a warm corner to hole up. Maybe one of the stairwell doors would be open; then, he could have a good, solid sleep like the other night when he’d found one of the security doors unlocked at Madera Crossing.
The step was wet from the melting snow of the day, so he pulled out a frayed scarf he’d found in a trash bin the week before and placed it under him, then resumed watching the iron gates at the garage.
Lenny hadn’t always lived on the streets. He once had a wife, two kids, a nice home in the suburbs of Durango, and an excellent job at Sunrise Bank. Back then, he was known as a functional alcoholic, but when his wife took the two kids and walked out on him, the liquor demon claimed his soul, and he lost everything: his job, his house, his sanity.
Shame and humiliation filled Lenny each time he rummaged through dumpsters behind grocery stores or restaurants. When he begged for a handout on corners of busy intersections, he’d lose another piece of himself until he no longer recognized the man he once was. That was when he drifted from the city to Alina.
Memories of happier times crept into his mind, but those days were so long ago that it was getting harder to conjure them up. Lenny counted his time on the streets by the number of winters he’d endured rather than weeks or even months. As far as he could recall, he’d spent eight of his fifty-three winters homeless.
A lot of people would be bitter about their circumstances, but Lenny wasn’t one of them. He knew he was responsible for the way his life had turned out. His wife tried for years to support and understand him, but in the end, she couldn’t do it anymore. He’d failed her like he failed his staff at the bank and his kids. Thinking about his beautiful son and daughter was the only thing that would bring tears to his eyes, so he usually washed away the memories with a bottle of whiskey or gin.
As a car approached, he rose and started to cross the road, but then he saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser as it turned the corner, so he stood back from the street and in the shadow of a small market’s doorway instead, and watched as the first car drove into the parking lot. The metal gate clanged shut, and Lenny pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck and sighed.
The police unit stopped at the end of the block alongside a blue car parked in front of a fire hydrant. Rubbing the back of his neck, Lenny watched as two cops got out of their car. His gaze darted back and forth between them and the nearly empty street. Sweat formed around the hairline of his tangled mop of brown-and-gray hair and rolled down his back. As his chest tightened, he dug into the pocket of his coat and took out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. With his eyes still fixed on the flashing lights, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a deep drink.
“It’s cold out,” a man said from behind.
Lenny’s body jolted at the sound of the voice, and he quickly capped the whiskey and shoved it back into his pocket. “Where’d you come from?” he asked in a low voice, his gaze shifting back to the cops.
“I’m everywhere,” the man replied.
Slightly turning, Lenny took in the tall man in black sweat pants and a parka. The hood of the guy’s jacket was pulled down low, obscuring his face.
He brushed his fingers across his chapped lips. “You looking for a place to sleep?”
The man gave a short dry laugh. “No.”
Lenny averted his gaze. “Oh.”
“You don’t like looking at me?” Another laugh, only this one was harsher.
Instead of answering, he took a couple of steps away from the stranger. The harshness of street life had taught him never to keep eye contact or trust anyone.
“You want a cigarette?” The man took out a pack from his pocket and held it out to Lenny.
“I don’t smoke,” he mumbled.
A snort of disgust pushed through his lips. “But you drink like a fucking fish.”
He shifted in place. “It helps when it’s cold.”
“Bullshit.” The guy sniffed exaggeratedly. “You fucking stink.”
The headlights of a car brightened up the street as it slowed down and turned into the garage of Madera Crossing. Not caring about the cops anymore, Lenny wanted to get away from the stranger who was sending off all kinds of alarms inside him. He nudged away from the wall, but the man stood in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna find me a place to sleep.” He tried to push past the guy, but he was no match for the man’s muscular build. “I’m not bothering you. Just let me go my way.”
“You’re a disgusting piece of shit,” he said in a deadly calm tone.
Lenny looked back at the police car. Would they hear him if he cried out? He glanced sidelong at the hooded stranger. Something about him ignited the spark of fear in Lenny’s stomach.
“All of you are just taking up space. What the fuck are you contributing to society?” His voice had become darker and more … lethal.
“I’m not bothering you,” he said.
The stranger leaned in closer. “Yeah, you fucking are.”
Lenny saw a flash of silver, then felt searing pain like a lightning strike as the knife plunged into his chest. Before his brain could register what had happened, the man came at him over and over in a frenzied attack. His blood spilled everywhere, and the man just kept stabbing and grunting as the life slipped out of Lenny.
As his eyes shut, images of his son and daughter burned against his lids, then blackness erased everything.