Page 32 of Coordinates of Death

She opened the door. A brisk gust of wind hit her in the face, stinging her cheeks as a white wall blocked her view of everything in her path. “Umm . . . we’re not going anywhere.”

Kordell set the cooler back down. “We’ll have to wait for it to subside, and who knows how long that will be.”

“We left all our provisions in our backpacks.” Aurora shut the door, blocking out the snow and wind.

“My fault, but I was concerned that if we fell through, our gear would be destroyed by water.” Kordell picked up some sticks, opened the stove, and positioned them inside. “Let’s get more warmth in here.” He grabbed the matches sitting on a small ledge beside the stove, ignited the kindling, and blew to get the flames going.

“At least there are blankets.” She nabbed one from the chair, sat, and wrapped it around her. “What should we do next?”

“Get comfortable, but we’ll do interval checks and leave when we have more visibility.”

Aurora glanced at the countdown on her watch. “We’re running out of time, and now Mother Nature is not playing nice.”

“Nope.” Kordell added a log to the fire and closed the stove’s door before taking the seat beside Aurora.

“Looks like we have a bit of time to catch up.” Aurora shifted in her chair to get a better view of the survivalist beside her. “Tell me how you met Maxwell Greene. What happened after you left the Roches?”

“That’s a loaded question.” He puffed out a long sigh. “Where to start.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Let’s see.”

“Where did you go when you left?”

“I’m sorry to say I swiped a bit of money from Cain and took a bus to Toronto. My money quickly dwindled, and I had no choice but to live on the street.”

Images of the vagrants Aurora had seen throughout her policing career entered her mind. Living on the street could be tough. While she’d seen some unsavory characters, there were those whose hard experiences and losses had put them there. Compassion filled her soul, and she placed her hand on his arm. “That must have been tough.”

“Yes, but it was also where I learned many survival skills. When you have to live on the streets, you learn to make the most out of nothing. I had to swallow my pride many times and ask for help from total strangers.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“Not at all, but the soup kitchens and shelters in that area helped me a lot.” His expression contorted as if he were reliving each moment. “You also had to know who was genuine and who was out to get you. People on the streets are territorial. Most helped their own, but there were some who only wanted drugs and would do anything to get them. And I mean anything.”

“Did you take drugs?”

He bit his lip. “Almost, but when I found a buddy dead in an alley from an overdose, that snapped me out of any ideas of taking drugs to numb my predicament.”

“I’ve heard of many mission organizations that take to the streets with food, blankets, and other supplies. Did any of those people cross your path?”

He nodded. “One older gentleman in particular. They called him Old Bobby. He came with his church group every Saturday. Preached the gospel.”

“Did that turn you off?” She knew some street preachers could do that easily. They yelled Jesus saves, but in a condemning way.

“Not Old Bobby. He lived what he preached. He even took me to a soup kitchen and got me a job helping. It didn’t pay but did eventually give me shelter and food. I owe Old Bobby my life because it was there that I met Maxwell Greene.”

Aurora noted how his voice softened when he mentioned Maxwell’s name. “You think a lot of him, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. He’s my father.” He leaned back in his chair. “Most billionaires are full of themselves, but not Dad. He also lived what he preached. Actually, I didn’t even know he was rich until later, because he wasn’t at the soup kitchen to flaunt his money. He drew up his sleeves and helped serve food to those in need. We struck up a conversation, and he asked me what brought me there. I don’t know why, but he was so easy to talk to. I explained how my parents were killed in a helicopter crash when I was six and then I was placed into the foster-care system, bouncing from home to home, then eventually ran away from a toxic family.”

“What did he say when you told him all of that?”

“I’ll never forget it. He reached over and clasped my shoulders, making me look him in the eyes. He said, ‘Son, God doesn’t make junk, only masterpieces, and you are a special boy. I can see that in your eyes.’ He poked me in the chest and finished with ‘Now you need to believe it.’ It wasn’t so much the words but how they were filled with genuine compassion.”

“What happened? How did you end up living with him?” Respect for the billionaire filled Aurora. The world could use more Maxwell Greenes.

“It didn’t happen right away, but he traveled from his estate north of Toronto every Sunday afternoon and our friendship grew. After two months, he came to me and shared how he was rebuilding his family and wanted me to be a part of it.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“He shared how his wife and children, except for one daughter, were all murdered by a madman and that he wanted to fill his home with children in need.”