There were at least seventy-five men milling about, talking, and about half that many tents to keep them safe from the elements. It was late spring, which meant the nights weren’t terribly cold, but Grady couldn’t help but wonder what happened to these people during the deep freeze associated with a Michigan winter.
Grady kept his distance at first, taking in the situation. Everyone there was male, dressed in ragged clothing, and seemingly disinterested in the outside world. The ages of the inhabitants ranged from the late twenties on up until the late sixties, from what Grady could tell.
His heart hurt just looking at them.
“Can I help you?”
Grady jumped when he heard the voice, shifting so he could take in the man moving in next to him. This man was different. He was dressed in simple blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a Carhart jacket. His clothes were neither dirty nor distressed. In fact, if he hadn’t been standing where he was standing, Grady would have assumed the man was just a normal guy out and about his daily errands in Macomb County.
His hair was short around his neck, longer on top, and a cross between brown and black. His eyes were dark and thoughtful. Unlike the malnourished brethren in the tent town, this man was well built from hours in the gym.
He didn’t belong here.
“Who are you?” Grady asked.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Grady Hardy,” he replied, extending his hand. “And you are?”
The man took his hand, no sense of guilt emanating from him, although a strong sense of suspicion was still there. “I’m Jake Harrison.”
“May I ask what you’re doing out here, Jake?” Grady asked.
“What are you doing out here?”
Grady gritted his teeth. “I was at the shelter in Roseville last night. I found out about this place and I just … well, I wanted to check it out.”
“And why would you want to do that?” Jake asked.
Grady shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
“Which are?”
“Why are you here?” Grady asked, putting the onus of the conversation squarely on Jake. “You don’t look like you belong here.”
“Neither do you,” Jake shot back.
“Fine,” Grady said. “I’m looking for a man named Cole Gordon. Your turn.”
“Why are you looking for Cole?”
“Oh, no,” Grady said, shaking his head. “I asked you first.”
“I come out here three times a week,” Jake said. “I bring food, medical supplies, and warm clothes.”
“Why?”
“Because they need it.”
Grady ran his gaze over the man again. “You’re a veteran, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Where did you serve?”
“Where did you serve?” Jake challenged.
“What makes you think I served?”
“You’ve got a certain … air about you.”
“And what air is that?”
“You’re a conflicted man,” Jake said. “You’re here on a mission, but you’re also horrified by what you’ve found. You’re just not sure what to do about either mission.”
Grady sighed, liking the man and his vigilance despite his hostile nature. “I was in the Army for three years,” Grady said. “I didn’t know this place existed until last night.”
“And you came out here the first thing this morning?”
“I have dual issues right now,” Grady admitted. “I need to find Cole Gordon. I also want to try to help out here.”
Jake ran his tongue over his teeth, shifting his head to the side while he considered Grady’s admission. “Why do you want Cole?”
Grady launched into the story, telling it for the second time in its entirety in less than twenty-four hours. When he was done, Jake couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Wow.”
“Yup.”
“And the girl, the one hurt in the explosion, she’s okay?”
“She’s pretty much back to normal,” Grady said. “I think her back still has some healing to do, but she’s much better than she was.”
“And Jen at Prospect Park House told you about this place?”
“She was trying to help.”
Jake rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “You’re in a hard place.”
“We’re in limbo,” Grady countered. “I want to solve the first problem, and then I want us all to focus on this problem.”
Jake chuckled, the sound hollow. “Do you really think this is a problem you can solve?”
“I think this is a problem that needs to be addressed,” Grady replied. “These men deserve more than this.”
“You don’t think I know that?”