Page 6 of Sir Avery's Wish
Avery disconnected the call, undeterred from trying to solve the mystery of the young man. He returned to his office with his thoughts in disarray. Darla glanced up from her desk in what would be considered the common area of the suite, but was now doubling as reception. She arched her eyebrows.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Lockwood?”
He paused, blinking several times. “No, I need to check in on something.”
“I see. Would you like me to contact Chef Lavigne and let him know you can’t make your three o’clock meeting?”
Avery pinched the bridge of his nose. What the hell was the matter with him? For whatever reason, the plight of this particular employee had thrown him off-kilter.
“No, that’s okay.” Avery checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He wasn’t a fan of being rushed or frantic. “But while I’m with him, could you pull the files on Eli Newman?”
He wasn’t ready to abandon Eli yet. If it was within his power to help, he would in a heartbeat.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Lenny. It’s Eli.”
Sitting on a bench in Copley Park, the chill of the looming winter reminding him of his dire circumstance, he clutched his phone, wondering whether he should leave a message or not. He still had no idea whether the murderer, or murderers as the case may be, were on to him.
“Umm… Never mind. I’ll try you again later.”
Eli shoved the phone back into the pocket of his hoodie, mentally raging at himself for not choosing somewhere warmer to be homeless. What the hell was the matter with Florida? Picking Boston had been a combination of getting as far away as possible and knowing the city in a casual way from visiting his grandparents when he was a kid. His grandparents were gone now, but they wouldn’t have been a good landing spot anyway. If a killer were determined enough, they could easily connect the dots from one family member to the next.
Eli wrapped his arms around his body, tucking his hands under his armpits.Fuck. What should I do?In his fantasies, he’d call Lenny who would tell him, Hey, great news! They caught the killer, and they don’t need us to testify, so come on home! But when they spoke last week, Lenny said that not only wasn’t the killer caught, but he hadn’t found any news about the murder online or anywhere else.
Then there was the inevitable: your family is very worried about you, they don't understand why I won’t tell them anything. After that was the requisite warning from him not to say one word about where he was.
Such a fucking disaster. His entire world had exploded around him because he’d been bitten by the ol’ wrong place, wrong time routine. And now that he’d been busted by his boss,he was officially on the streets and without the small number of things he owned. Nowaywas he ever setting foot in that place again. Sure, the owner seemed like he genuinely wanted to help, but Eli hadn’t trusted anyone since that awful night. He’d never been so paranoid.
Besides, what could his boss do? The guy might be rich as fuck, but as much as it seemed as though it could, money didn’t fix everything. Eli pressed his lips together, shaking his head. Nope. His former boss seemed like the by-the-book type. He’d pressure Eli into going to the cops.
Okay, dude. Think this through.
He had to move on, look ahead, and take the next step. No point in wallowing in self-pity.
Eli eyed the people strolling by. Some crossed the park with a brisk pace, others wandered along the path casually, either chatting with someone they were sharing the day with or taking in the sights. He chewed on his bottom lip. Where was he going to sleep tonight?
Eli plucked his phone from his pocket again so he could check how much money he had left from his last paycheck. Or more accurately, on the card where his pay was deposited. His gut tightened. Would he get the money for the few days he’d worked before he ran out? Although he wasn't an expert on labor laws, he was fairly certain they had to. He grunted. Not that he’d ever confront them if they didn’t.
His burner didn’t have a lot of bells and whistles—or memory—so not only did it not have a lot of apps, but it was super slow. Burner phone, burner job, burner life. By now his boss would’ve figured out that the info on his application was a load of bullshit. At least he couldn’t be tracked down.
The info on his account finally loaded, and he wanted to cry. The few hundred dollars he had left from the last pay period probably wouldn’t even get him two nights at the cheapest hotelin the city. The next time he was running from a killer, he’d make sure to find someplace warmerandcheaper.
He rubbed his forehead, staring at the phone as if it held the answers to the universe. Homeless shelter. That’s what people did in his situation. At the same time, he had no idea what the options were or how it worked. There were so many people on the streets that it had to mean there wasn’t any room, right?
Panic clawed at his stomach, his meager breakfast of the day-old croissant and a cup of coffee the hotel cafe left out for the staff threatened to make a reappearance. He sucked in a deep breath. Time to put on his big boy pants and do some research. Sitting around a park bench wasn’t getting him anywhere. If the homeless shelter was a bust, he could always buy a ticket to another place. Not that he had any clue where he’d go, but at least on the bus he’d have shelter and somewhere to sleep.
After checking out one spot that could only offer him a voucher for a motel for the week, Eli headed to the subway and caught the train to Roxbury.There was both a teen and adult shelter there, and the volunteer at the first place said they were serving food that night. Food was good. Anything he could get that wouldn’t draw from his limited funds.
The T rattled through the tunnels, each clank and screech setting his nerves on edge. Eli hunched in his seat, pulling his hood up despite the stuffiness of the subway car. Every face that turned his way made his pulse spike—was that person looking at him too long? Did they recognize him from some wanted poster he didn't know existed?
Stop it.He gripped the metal pole beside his seat. Nobody knows who you are. Nobody cares about some random guy from LA. But the rational part of his brain had been losing ground to paranoia for weeks now. Sleep deprivation and constant fear had a way of warping everything into a potential threat.
The train lurched to a stop, and Eli checked the map on the wall. Two more stations. His stomach cramped with hunger, reminding him that the stale croissant had been hours ago. The volunteer had mentioned they served dinner at six—he glanced at his watch and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd make it in time.
The shelter stood like a beacon amid the gathering dusk, a plain brick building with weathered steps leading to a glass door covered in flyers. Eli hesitated at the bottom of the steps, his heart hammering against his ribs. The muffled sounds of voices drifted from inside—laughter, conversation, and life continuing despite adversity.
Eli wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and forced himself up the steps, one at a time. The door felt heavier than it should have as he pulled it open, warm air rushing to meet him, carrying the scent of something savory that made his stomach clench with renewed hunger.
