CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A MEAL THAT DID NOT BELONG TO ANYONE
The community kitchen operated from the fire station’s meeting hall.
Two long tables held bread, soup, fruit, and thermoses of coffee.
Jake arrived before sunrise and found the retired cook, Mrs. Sloane, standing beside a stack of unwashed pots.
“You know how to chop onions?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then prove it.”
Jake worked beside her for three hours.
He learned the names of the volunteers and the families waiting for road repairs.
Nobody asked him why he had been fired.
Nobody treated him as a hero.
He liked both things.
At noon, Owen and his mother arrived carrying a box of homemade biscuits.
The boy ran toward Jake.
“I didn’t hide under the seat today,” he announced.
“Good,” Jake said.
“I hid under my blanket instead.”
Jake laughed.
Owen’s mother set the biscuits on the counter.
“My husband called last night,” she told Jake quietly.
“He heard Russell had been looking for us.”
“Is he safe?”
“For now.”
She looked toward the busy hall.
“He’s coming home to speak with the investigators.”
Jake nodded.
“I hope they listen.”
“He has other workers willing to speak too.”
She touched the biscuit box.
“I wanted to bring something because people fed my son when I couldn’t reach him.”
Jake looked at the box.
He remembered the plate of chicken he had carried to Gideon.
The meal had been small.
Its consequences had not been.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE MANAGER RETURNS
Warren arrived at the fire station just after lunch.
He wore his diner jacket and carried a sealed plastic bag.
Jake saw him standing near the entrance and felt his shoulders tighten.
“I’m not here to fight,” Warren said.
“Then why are you here?” Jake asked.
Warren looked toward Gideon, who was helping stack chairs.
“I need to talk to the deputy.”
“The sheriff’s office is across town.”
“I know.”
Warren held up the bag.
Inside were two small parking receipts and a folded note.
“Russell paid me to let his vans use the lot,” Warren said.
“He also asked me to keep the kitchen door unlocked after closing.”
Jake stared at him.
“Did you?”
“Once.”
“Why?”
“He said a driver needed to use the restroom.”
“And you believed him?”
Warren swallowed.
“I wanted the money.”
Jake did not know what to say.
Warren looked older than he had two nights earlier.
“I saw a man arguing with Russell behind the diner,
” he continued.
“The man wanted his identification card back.”
“What did you do?”
“I went inside.”
Jake felt anger rise so quickly that he had to look away.
“You could have helped him.”
“I know.”
Warren held out the bag.
“I should have told the deputy when he asked.”
Jake did not take it.
“Tell him now,” he said.
Warren nodded and left.
Gideon approached after the manager had gone.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No,” Jake answered.
Gideon waited.
“But I’m working,” Jake said.
He returned to the soup pots.
