Finding Riley (A Forever Home Novel Book 2), page 1
Finding Riley
A Forever Home Novel
Book 2
By Dan Walsh
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
Author’s Note
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Acknowledgments
About The Author
1
Okay, he got it. It was December. But it was also Florida. So why was John Finch still shivering inside his sleeping bag, his body all curled up in a ball?
He’d packed up his things three weeks ago and hitched a freight train down from Memphis to avoid freezing weather like this. Riding a freight train was a scary thing, but John couldn’t get the money together for a Greyhound ticket. At the time, it seemed worth the risk. But now?
He heard the tent zipper go down.
“You ever coming outta there, John? Fire’s burning nice and hot now. Coffee’s all brewed.” It was his friend, Alfred. Alfred’s the one who’d invited him to this camp. Some of Alfred’s friends had nicknamed him Two-Sheets because, most of the time, Alfred stayed slightly inebriated. Not fall down drunk, mind you. Otherwise, they’d have called them Three-Sheets (“three sheets to the wind”).
John peeked his head out of the sleeping bag. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine. Starting to see the sun through the trees. Supposed to be the last day of this cold snap. Said so on the radio not twenty minutes ago. So, c’mon. We need to get to work sprucing up the camp for that cameraman who’s coming. Don’t want him to think the homeless are nothing but lazy bums.”
That’s right. John couldn’t believe it. Some idiot had gone and said yes to a guy making a documentary about the homeless. He’d found out about it last night. “When’s this guy supposed to show up?”
“I don’t know. What’s a-matter? Didn’t you sleep okay last night? I certainly did. I always sleep better when it’s cold.”
John sighed. He might as well just get up. Alfred wasn’t gonna stop nagging until he did. And he definitely didn’t want to still be in bed when that camera guy started filming their campsite. “All right,” he said. “Gimmie a minute. I’ll be right out.”
“Want me to pour your coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
Alfred zipped the tent flap back up “Save you a spot by the fire.”
John sat up on his cot, started getting out of his sleeping bag. That was something to be grateful for anyway, not having to sleep on the ground. He’d slept on one of those aluminum camping cots you pick up at Walmart for thirty-five bucks. John didn’t pay that, of course. Alfred had snatched it for him the day before John arrived. Some guy was breaking camp and heading south, said he needed to travel light and couldn’t take it with him.
Reaching over, John lifted his leather jacket from a crate beside the cot and put it on. He looked down at his boots. They were a little small. He couldn’t lace them up wearing anything more than one pair of socks. Right now he had on three. But at least he could feel his toes. How long would that last after shedding two pairs and cramming his feet into those old boots?
He sighed again. Didn’t matter. Had to be done.
He did it quickly and stood up just as fast. It was a dome-style tent with decent head room. Alfred bought it used a few months ago. Told John how much he’d paid for it. John figured that was a hint, so he’d given him some money when he got here. Almost half, which is why he didn’t have any money for the bus ticket. But now John was having doubts about his investment.
Last night made it three nights in a row where the outside temperature had dipped below freezing. Maybe he could talk Alfred into the two of them taking off in a few days, make their way south.
John knew you got down around Tampa and, while it could still get chilly at night, it was nowhere near this cold. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were now. In the woods somewhere a few miles north of a little town called Summerville (at the moment, the name hardly fit). The nearest named-town he recognized was Ocala, maybe a half-hour away.
As he unzipped the tent and stepped outside, he heard Christmas music on a radio somewhere in the distance. Johnny Mathis singing, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas. No mistaking that distinctive vibrato. Looking around at the sight before him, John couldn’t quite agree with Mr. Mathis. It was cold enough to feel like Christmas, but it looked just like what it was—a dirty old camp of homeless people living in the woods.
He’d seen plenty of similar camps in several different states over the last two decades, since he’d joined their ranks. This was better than some. Definitely more organized. Alfred had said the two guys who’d been here the longest set things up almost four years ago. Most of the camps John lived in had either fallen apart, or everyone got chased out within a few months.
John walked down the narrow path toward the fire pit, saw a smiling Alfred waving, pointing at an empty canvas chair beside him. A steaming cup of coffee sat on a makeshift table. Though the woods were pretty thick out by the road and for the first hundred yards or so, they opened into a nice clearing where the tents had been set up. Here, only a few shady trees stuck out of the ground every so often, palm trees had sprouted here and there, and lots of skinny saplings were scattered all about.
“There you are,” Alfred said. “Nice and toasty over here.”
John could feel the heat even this far from the fire. More than the heat, he was aware of that coffee cup. As he walked around and behind Alfred to avoid the smoke, another guy who’d been sitting a few feet away got up and headed toward a tarped area, where breakfast was being served.
“If you’re hungry,” Alfred said, “maybe you should follow him. They’re not gonna serve breakfast much longer.”
John sat and picked up the cup of coffee. “This is all I need. Thanks for getting it.”
“No problem.”
John took a few slow sips. He stretched out his legs to warm up his boots. Between the fire, the coffee going down smooth, the breakfast smells hanging in the air, and the sun shining through the trees…this wasn’t so bad after all. But you could have all this a few hours south and be totally rid of the cold as well. He leaned over in Alfred’s direction. “While it’s just the two of us here, I want to bring up something we’ve talked about before.”
“I know what you’re gonna say already.”
“You do? Okay, what is it?”
Alfred stared into the fire. “You’re gonna say, we’re in Florida. Florida’s a long state. What are we doing so far north? Why don’t we head further south a few hours? Find a place where we don’t freeze our butts off at night.” He looked at John. “Am I right?”
“Okay. So maybe I’ve been talking about this a little too much. But can you blame me? I don’t know how you’re putting up with this weather. Doesn’t it bother your arthritis?”
“It bothers me some. But I’m telling you, John. I ain’t ever been in a place like this, where I feel mostly safe at night. You never been attacked before.”
“I have, too.”
“Not like I have.”
He’d almost forgotten. Two years ago, Alfred had been ambushed in the middle of the night by two guys who’d broken into their camp. Beat him up real good. Stole all his stuff. Took him four days in the hospital to recover. “Okay, not like you have.”
Alfred pointed to the guy who’d just left. “See him? He just came up here a few days ago from a camp just south of Orlando. Said a guy in the group he was staying with got hacked to death by some lunatic with a machete. Not beat up, killed. Right in his tent. Happened three nights ago. That’s why he left and came up here. I knew you were going to want to talk about this again, so I asked him how cold it was down there, you know, at nighttime. Know what he said? It wasn’t bad at all. At night or during the day. I didn’t even have to ask him, why then didn’t he just stay put. You know why?”
“Okay,” John said. “I get it. They ever catch the guys that did it?”
“Nope.”
“So they’re still out there somewhere.”
“Down there somewhere,” Alfred said. “Not up here.”
“You don’t know that. If they didn’t get caught, what’s keeping ‘em from making their way up here?”
“They wouldn’t do that. No one in their right minds would head north in December, not with it being this cold.”
John just stared at him. Did Alfred even realize he’d just admitted they weren’t in their right minds either, staying up here where it was so cold? “Never mind,” John said.
“Anyway,” Alfred said, “that killer could never get into this camp. Too many p
John sighed. How did Alfred think any of that made them any more secure than people in homeless camps anywhere else in the state? At night, camps were all the same. Dark. Anyone who wanted to could sneak around in the dark any time they pleased. They could come up here and attack you in the cold, or stay down south and do it where it was nice and warm. “Alright, you win. I won’t bring it up again.”
Just then, some excitement started up over at the tarped breakfast area. A bunch of people were gathering around. “What’s that about?” John said.
“I’m not sure,” Alfred said. “Looks like the camera guy. The one making that documentary? I think he just showed up.”
“Great,” John said. “That’s just great.”
2
Savannah, Georgia
Now this was kind of exciting. He wasn’t sure why just yet, but Riley could tell by the look on everyone’s faces, this thing they were doing was a good thing. It made them happy. He liked it when his people were happy.
His tail still wagging, Riley followed close behind the woman. Her name was Mom. She stepped out of the big walk-in closet in the master bedroom and handed a box to Jeffrey. It was too high off the ground for Riley to see inside. But Jeffrey could see it, and his eyes lit up.
“Snowmen,” Jeffrey said. “Can I bring these downstairs?”
“That’s why I’m giving them to you,” Mom said. “But don’t take them out of the box yet. Wait till we get all the boxes down. Just stack them on top of the coffee table.”
“Okay.” He turned toward the stairwell.
“And be careful going down the stairs. That’s why I gave you a small box, so you could keep one hand on the rail.”
“I will.”
His big sister, Lisa, stepped into the same spot and held out her hands. “You can give me a bigger box than that.”
Riley started following Jeffrey down the stairs. He always followed Jeffrey, if there was more than one family member in the room. Jeffrey wasn’t his leader. Not exactly. But he was the one who’d spent the most time with Riley, the one who treated him the best. Mom was definitely in charge. The man who was mostly called Dad (but sometimes Tom) was also pretty important. But Dad was usually gone most of the day. Like right now.
After going down three steps, Riley had to pass Jeffrey or risk running into the back of his legs. He hurried to the bottom and spun around to greet him. His tail thumped on the oval throw rug. What was in that box and why did it make Jeffrey so happy? He sniffed the air but couldn’t pick up any unusual scents.
As Jeffrey carried the box to the coffee table, Riley couldn’t help himself. He had to see what was inside. He stood on his hind legs, put his front paws across Jeffrey’s arm and licked his ear.
Jeffrey laughed. “Get down, Riley.” He lowered his arm. Riley’s front legs slid back to the floor. “You sit, and I’ll show you what it is.”
Riley understood two words: down and sit. He obeyed.
As he did, footsteps came down the stairs. He turned to see Lisa carrying another box.
“Here,” Jeffrey said, holding a white stuffed toy in front of Riley’s face. “It’s a snowman. See?” He set it on the coffee table.
Of course, Riley grabbed it in his mouth. He instantly liked the way it felt as he crunched down on it.
“Riley! Drop it!” Lisa yelled, from the bottom of the stairs.
He did and instantly lowered his head.
“Don’t put that right in front of his face,” she said to Jeffrey. “Are you stupid? He’ll think it’s a toy, just like his squirrel.” She set her box on the other end of the coffee table.
“He wasn’t going to hurt it,” Jeffrey said. “You don’t have to yell.” He patted Riley on the head. “It’s okay, boy. You didn’t know, did you?”
“He didn’t hurt it because I yelled. You can’t let him play with these things. He can’t tell the difference.”
“I wasn’t letting him play with it. He just grabbed it. But he’d let it go just as fast if you asked him nicely.”
Riley wasn’t sure what they were saying, but he liked the way Jeffrey said his part more. The only word he did understand was Squirrel. Squirrel was his favorite. He loved it more than anything. They’d been together since Riley was a puppy. He ran over to his dog bed in the corner to check on it. Good, right where he’d left it. He lifted it with his mouth and lay down.
His dog bed and Squirrel. Two of his favorite things.
“Look at him,” Lisa said in a sweet voice. “That’s right, Riley. You can have Squirrel.” She looked at her brother. “Not the snowman. Which reminds me, Jeffrey, when we start setting up these Christmas decorations, you can’t put any of the stuffed ones on a level Riley can reach. The plastic ones and the ceramic ones are fine, but not the stuffed ones.” She opened the lid to her box and pulled something out. “And not cloth ones, either. Like this angel. Riley would tear this up and not think a thing about it.”
“Mom already told me this.”
“I’m just reminding you.”
Riley kept hearing his name. They weren’t calling him, so he stayed put. Lisa was nice to him sometimes, but other times she could become mean very quickly. She’d yell at him and say many things he didn’t understand. He always responded by sending her calming signals, but she never seemed to pick up on his messages. Because of this, he was mostly nervous whenever she came around.
Lisa put the angel back in the box and closed the lid. She headed back up the stairs. “C’mon, Jeffrey. Stop playing with the snowmen. There’s still a bunch more boxes to bring down.”
“Okay.” He got up and followed her.
Riley dropped Squirrel and was just about to follow Jeffrey up the stairs when he heard a familiar sound outside. His ears perked up. It was a car pulling in the driveway. Sounded like Dad’s car. He barked to let everyone know and ran to the front door.
He barked several more times. Now a door closed. Footsteps on the sidewalk outside.
“Mom?” Jeffrey called, halfway up the stairs. “I think Dad just got home.” He turned and headed back down the steps. “Why’s he coming home so early?”
“Riley,” Lisa yelled. “Stop barking.”
Riley heard keys jingling in the lock. It was the same sound he always heard. Had to be Dad. He backed out of the way, his tail wagging all the while.
Jeffrey reached the front door just as it opened. “Dad, it is you.”
“It’s me.”
Lisa arrived and stood behind her brother. Riley heard more footsteps down the stairs. It was Mom.
“Tom,” she said from the stairs. “What are you doing home so early? Is everything okay at work?”
“Look at the smile on my face,” he said. “What’s that tell you?”
Everyone seemed happy. Something good must be going on. Riley ran between their legs and began greeting Dad.
“Hey boy, how ya doing?” The father bent over slightly to pat his head. Riley kept jumping up on him, licking his hands and wagging his tail. “Okay, okay. Back up. Let me get through the door.”
The mother walked up, hugged and kissed Dad. He closed the door then everyone walked to the middle of the living room. “I see you’re getting the Christmas decorations out.”
“Well, just the decorations for now,” Mom said. “Remember? We talked about it this morning at breakfast? The kids and I would decorate the house this afternoon, then all of us would do the tree together tonight. But I thought I still had three hours.”
“Well…” A big smile came over his face. “The plans have changed.”
“Dad, what are you talking about?” Lisa said.
“We’re not setting up the tree tonight?” Jeffrey said.
“No, we’re not,” Dad said. “Not tonight and not for about five more nights.”
“What?” Mom said. “Tom, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” he repeated. “We’re not decorating or setting up the tree tonight, because…tonight we have to pack.”
3
“Pack?” Jeffrey yelled, startling Riley. “Tonight?”
