Through Any Window by Deb Richardson-Moore

Author:Deb Richardson-Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, suspense, mystery, murder, gentrification, homelessness, detective
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Caleb

Caleb woke as the sun shone through the shed’s east-facing window, then he startled because he’d overslept. He didn’t like being in Isaiah’s yard after daylight. Too risky. Cate could bring her coffee outside, as could the Hardys next door. Dawn was the only bearable time to be outdoors—though people like him bore it twenty-four hours a day.

He peered out the window. Nothing stirring. He crossed the shed to the west-facing window, all of four steps away. He gazed into the pool house, but Riley wasn’t moving around either. He gathered his sleeping bag, granola wrappers, and water bottle, along with the clamshell that had held last night’s calzone. Then he slunk from the shed. Another night’s free shelter, another seventeen dollars saved. He ducked and ran to the tangled vegetation behind the boarding house, stuffing his sleeping bag under a ragged shrub.

No one was around, so he slid into the boarding-house kitchen through the rear door. There was so much coming and going in this house that he could brew a pot of coffee without anyone noticing. Once it was percolating, he rummaged through cabinets for a disposable cup that was sort of clean. He poured the first cup from the pot, inhaling its steamy warmth. He exited onto the front porch and claimed the rocking chair, leaning back to enjoy the morning’s small successes.

Until he looked at the sidewalk. Trudging up Montreat, head down, shoulders hunched, was his mother. He scrambled to hide behind the thick patch of wisteria that cloaked one side of the porch, but she didn’t even glance toward him. She was headed in the direction of the public library. Caleb wondered if that was where she’d spend her day.

Where did she say she was staying? He’d been more focused on keeping information from her than remembering what she told him. Camping. She’d said she was camping out. The woods around Roosevelt Park and the Crescent Trail held countless encampments of one to six people. Any group larger than six drew attention from the cops.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped from the porch to follow, allowing her to get a block ahead. He didn’t want her to associate him with this area of Montreat or Gunter. Otherwise, she’d try to join him in the shed.

But she was oblivious to her surroundings and didn’t turn around. She swerved right onto Marigold Lane, a little through street that connected Montreat and Gunter, then turned right again onto Gunter. She was soon in front of Twenty-Four and Twenty-Six Gunter Avenue, where she halted. She stared at the houses for so long that he wondered if she was looking for something to steal. Or maybe she was contemplating the sale of her father’s house. But his mother had gotten her share. She’d conveniently left out that part of the story.

Doreen started up again, and he followed at a distance. She continued on Gunter until she reached West Roosevelt. Several men standing in front of the post office greeted her, and she stopped to talk.

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