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se I just can’t, okay?” Ravinia strode out of the room and ran upstairs, grabbing her bag from her bedroom closet that held the items she needed to leave: a change of clothes, a flashlight, the few dollars that she’d taken from Catherine’s purse. Yes, she was a thief, but she’d pay them back someday, when she was able to. And as soon as she got some real money, she was going to buy some real clothes from real stores.
This graveyard rendezvous couldn’t come soon enough. Earl had said tomorrow night, but Ravinia wanted to leave now. Every nerve in her body felt like it was jumping around. She just had to go. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not till after tomorrow night.
Exhaling heavily, she touched a match to her oil lamp, as the evening light was all but gone. Then she sank onto her bed and felt the journal tucked beneath her shirt at the back of her waistband.
She would keep reading her mother’s diary, even though apart from a few strange passages whose meaning she hadn’t yet figured out, it was kind of a snooze.
But then . . . after tomorrow . . . she was outta here for good.
Savvy made two stops before heading to the shelter: the pharmacy where she’d gotten the breast pump, this time for some nursing pads; and then back to her house for a quick freshening up and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Then she was on her way north again, and she would have skipped Mickey and the shelter entirely except for the niggling sense of duty that she couldn’t ignore. She’d said she would go, so she might as well follow through. She had a feeling Mickey was the type to keep calling until she did.
The Savior’s Lighthouse was a long, low building that had once been a mom-and-pop grocery store on the north end of Tillamook. Althea Tunewell was the force behind the shelter’s existence, and she was fiercely devoted to taking care of the homeless men, women, and children who passed through her door. Toonie had been homeless herself for a short time in her youth, and she’d made social work and teaching others about the goodness of God and his son, Jesus, her mission in life.
Savannah ducked her head against a very cold and insistent rain as she headed inside. She wasn’t really sure why she was even here, but Toonie generally didn’t call the TCSD without a good reason.
Inside the place smelled like canned corn and cigarettes, the cigarette odor seemingly embedded in the walls, as no one was allowed to smoke indoors. Savvy’s stomach reacted with an uncomfortable lurch, and she determined to make this visit short and sweet.
Toonie was talking to a woman whose hair looked in need of a serious washing and who also had her own aroma, nothing good. The woman smiled when Savvy approached, and asked, “You here for the meetin’, sister?”
“No, she’s here to see me. Go on now, Jolene. Join the others,” Toonie said before Savannah could answer.
“Jesus loves you,” Jolene said as she turned away, touching at her hair after seeing Savannah.
“I’m so sorry about your sister,” Toonie said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay by a long shot, honey. We both know that. I don’t mean to add to your troubles, especially since you just had your baby, but I felt that you needed to talk to Mickey.”
“I’m not sure I can help him—” Savvy said, starting to demur, but Toonie interrupted quickly.
“Oh, I thought you understood. I think Mickey may be able to help you with that investigation of yours.”
“I didn’t get that message,” she said.
“He’s been talking about you and your baby. Talking about Bancroft Bluff and that house he was found in.”
The Pembertons’ house, before it was purchased back by Bancroft Development. “He was trying to start a fire inside it,” Savvy said.
“Yes. I know.” She thought about something for a moment, then nodded, as if she’d come to a conclusion. “Could you come into my office for a moment? This won’t take long.”
Savvy just managed to keep herself from checking her watch as she followed Toonie through the kitchen to a small room beyond, which might have once been a large supply closet but was now crowded with a desk, a chair, and a fairly new laptop computer. Bookshelves held several copies of the Bible, books on theology, and a few on institution management.
Toonie gestured to a seat, and Savannah sat down on the edge. She wanted to get going soon and didn’t want to give the wrong impression.
“I’ll make this quick,” Toonie said in response. “Mickey has issues with reality, as I’m sure you noticed, but I believe it’s only recently that he couldn’t handle the pressures of his life. His family’s been in touch with him, but he’s unable to accept them yet. He needs medication, and he won’t take it. Says it’s too expensive, and he’s right, but he could get dispensation if he filled out the right forms.”
“I hate to be pushy, but you said he could help me.”
“Just bear with me a small moment or two more.” She pressed her forefinger and thumb together to show Savvy just how small it would be. “Mickey’s a Foothiller. Not a term I would call the mix of Native Americans and whites who live in that area around Deception Bay, but it’s what they call themselves.”
“I know about the Foothillers,” Savvy said.
“Do you know that they possess some . . . oh, ESP, I guess you’d call it?”
Savvy held her gaze. “Like psychic gifts?”
She lifted her hands as if to negate the words that she was forcing herself to say. “I only believe in God’s gifts to us. Our souls. Our integrity. Our concern for our fellow man, but . . .”
