“I’ve seen homeless people before.”
“This is different,” Sophie replied. “A lot of these people, well, they have war wounds. You can see a lot of them.”
“I’ve seen people with missing limbs before,” Grady said. “I understand the psychology associated with it.”
“Well, a lot of these men have lost limbs, their sanity, and their homes,” Sophie said. “They’re … sad.”
Grady brought Sophie’s hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her hand. “Let’s do this together, sugar.”
“Okay.”
Sophie led Grady into the building, stopping by the front window to inform the man behind it who she was looking for. The wait gave Grady a chance to look around.
“They have a security door.”
“You have to be buzzed in,” Sophie said. “There’s a curfew. They lock this place down at six – and everyone is searched before they come inside. No weapons. No drugs. No liquor. No visitors beyond the door.”
“So, they try to keep it clean?”
“It’s not easy, but they try,” Sophie said. “I think they do the best that they can.”
Grady nodded mutely, turning as the door to the inner sanctum opened and a middle-aged blonde stepped outside. “Ms. Lane, it’s so good to see you. I can’t thank you enough for the story you wrote. The donations we received … well, they were a godsend.”
“I told you to call me Sophie,” she said, stepping forward and shaking hands with the woman.
“Only if you call me Jen.”
“Deal.”
Jen transferred her attention to Grady, looking him up and down. Sophie made the introductions, and then explained why they were there. Jen listened to the entire story, frowning when appropriate, and then shifted back and forth uncomfortably.
“I understand what you’re trying to do,” Jen said. “I even applaud it. The man who did this needs to be stopped. I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“Is there anyone here who you think could be a danger to others?” Sophie asked. “Anyone with a background in munitions or explosives?”
“A lot of the men who come here are … damaged,” Jen explained. “You basically get two kinds of people. The first group tries to pretend nothing happened and they don’t want to talk about their experiences. The second group, well, the second group fixates on what they went through and that’s all they want to talk about.”
“In your experience, which is the more dangerous group?”
“Those who don’t talk,” Jen said. “You can pretty much tell when a talker is going to go over the edge. We have three full-time counselors here for just that reason.”
Sophie slipped a strand of hair behind her ear, considering. “Can you tell when one of the non-talkers is going to go over the edge?”
Jen shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s subjective, just like anything else. You have to understand, a lot of the men who come here are mentally ill. We try to keep them on their medication, and then get them back into the work force. Most of them will never get the lives they lost back, but we want to give them something to look forward to.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to do something important here,” Grady said. “It also sounds like you’re stymied.”
“Stymied is a generous word,” Jen said. “These are men who have given everything to protect their country. When they come back, when they have problems assimilating, then the government completely abandons them.”
Grady swallowed hard. “I did a tour in the Army. I know about horror. I saw a lot of my friends go home in body bags. I saw a few more go home in pieces.”
Jen nodded. “Seeing it there and seeing it here are completely different things.”
“I get that,” Grady said. “I … I wish I’d known this place existed. I would have tried to help before.”
“And what would you do to help?” Jen asked pointedly.
“Anything I can,” Grady replied. “If you need money, I can donate money. My brothers and I run a security firm in Sterling Heights. We’re all veterans. I think they’d like to help, too.”
“Even the brother who saw his girlfriend blown across a parking lot?”
“Especially him,” Grady said. “He wants to protect his girlfriend, but he’ll feel strongly about this, too.”
Sophie pulled a business card out of her pocket. “I understand you don’t want us going in there and questioning people. If you could ask around … just, anything you can come up with. Call me any time. This isn’t for print. This is personal.”