Page 7 of The Family Cross

We were not surprised to find that the lowest and most exposed tents and shacks were occupied by people in their mid-fifties and older, some alert, others seemingly lost in dementia and muttering to themselves. The elderly were the largest and fastest-growing sector of the homeless population. They were also unlikely to challenge the younger people who occupied the upper decks of the encampment.

As we climbed, we saw fewer elderly people and more families, and above them, in the highest spots, were young adults, most of them men.

Many of the people watched us pass with suspicion and wariness. They looked as if they’d been cheated and battered by life and expected nothing but more threats to their existence. About three-quarters of the way up the embankment, we stopped in front of a boxlike structure of tarps set flush against the uphill side of the north stanchion.

Anna got agitated and called, “Pop-pop-pop, Emma? Luke?”

“Mom?” a girl replied, sounding relieved. The tarp rustled. “I told you not to go out by yourself without your—”

A girl of around fourteen slipped out from behind the tarp and immediately stopped talking. Emma was clean and wearing clean clothes. She had curly brown hair like her mother, but hers was brushed. She was instantly on guard when she saw us.

“Who are you? CPS?”

“Police, Emma,” Sampson said, showing his badge. “We were wondering if you saw the car burning?”

She looked us over. “Like maybe for two seconds after it exploded. I had to take care of my brother, Luke. He’s got the flu. And I figured Mom had gone out on her own. So I went back inside.”

Anna twisted her hands as she watched her daughter.

“You take care of your brother and your mom, Emma?” I asked quietly.

“She’s good to me,” Anna said. “Makes me take my pills. Good to everyone.”

“How old’s your brother?” Sampson asked.

“Nine,” Emma said. “Why?”

Sampson said, “Because kids your age should not be living like this. We can get you all into a shelter.”

The girl crossed her arms. “We’ve tried. Know what it’s like to pack up everything you own, go somewhere, find out there’s no room, then have to go back again?”

Her mother said, “Pop-pop-pop. We gave that up when we came home last time. Decided to make a stand here.”

“Emma,” I said. “Did you call 911 about the burning car?”

She shook her head. “That was my friend. He says he saw the whole thing.”

Sampson said, “Who’s your friend?”

Emma pointed to a shack about twenty yards away on the same tier. It was built of scrap wood and tarps and stood next to a three-legged table and two busted plastic chairs. “Boog. He lives there with his mama. When she’s around.”

I looked at Anna and then her daughter. “We’re going to get you some help. I promise you that.”

“We don’t want it,” Emma said firmly. “They’ll separate us. You want to know about that car, you go talk to Boog and leave us be. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure my mom takes her meds.”

7

I DECIDED NOT TO fight the girl.

“You in school, Emma?” I asked. “Is your brother?”

She crossed her arms again. “We start Monday. That’s when they said they had room for us.”

Sampson said, “At what school?”

“He’s in Savoy Elementary,” Emma said. “I’m at Taft Middle. I’m behind a grade. We both are.”

I studied her. “I have the feeling you’ll be good at poker someday, young lady. In the meantime, we’ll talk to your friend Boog.”