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58

Lazarus was running on fumes. Empty Midnight Porter bottles and cigarette stubs surrounded him. He leaned on the printer in the Dungeon, awaiting the final pages.

He had mapped out Owen Whittaker’s arrest sites, identifying nearby shelters. If he’d stayed at the shelters, maybe someone there knew him, knew if he had his own camp somewhere.

Only one shelter in Nevada was close to the tracks. Three blocks from there, Owen had once been nabbed for shoplifting beer.

His phone rang. “Yeah.”

Piper said, “Hey. I need to run home and get my grandmother her pills for the morning. Can you come hang out at the CJC? I don’t want to leave Sophie alone.”

“Where’s the officer?”

“Breakfast. Don’t be mad, I said he could go because I was here.”

Lazarus exhaled. “I can’t right now. I’m heading down to a shelter.”

“For what?”

“I sent uniforms to all the rail yards so he can’t hop on any freights, and he’s not walking outta town, so he’s gotta be somewhere. Somewhere familiar to him.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Sounds like bullshit, but I’d be going crazy sittin’ in the Dungeon waiting for a phone call.”

“Well, at least be careful.”

“When am I not?”

Lazarus spoke to a volunteer at the shelter, an older woman who wore a sweater though it was over ninety outside. Lazarus pulled out the booking photo of Owen Whittaker on his phone and showed it to her.

“You seen him here?”

“I seen him before. Don’t know his name. He don’t talk much.”

“He have any friends here? Regulars?”

“I don’t think so, but Brian might know something. He works here. I’ll get him.”

She went into a back room. Lazarus looked out over the main floor. It was covered in cots, like how cots were arranged haphazardly in gymnasiums after natural disasters. Some of the beds had men sleeping, pillows or blankets over their faces.

“Can I help you?”

He turned to see a man slightly taller than him with brown hair.

“I’m with the Metro PD. I’m looking for this man.” He held up the picture.

“That’s Owen. But I saw on the news that he was in jail?”

“Let’s say the story was greatly exaggerated. You know much about him?”

“Not really. He doesn’t talk. I think it hurts him to talk, because of the burns on his face.”

“But you do know him?”

“I make it a point to get to know everyone that comes here, Officer. They’re not faceless numbers, they’re human beings with histories and families.”

“I’m there with ya, but right now all I care about is finding him. You said he doesn’t talk much . What has he talked about?”

“We try to get people jobs when we can, and I thought he’d be a good candidate. He’d never held a real job, not once. I thought maybe if we could show him what it was like to make money through your own work ... I don’t know. I felt bad for him. I had no idea that—”

“Did he ever mention anywhere else he spends time?” Lazarus interrupted. “Somewhere he might go where people wouldn’t look for him?”

“There’s a place he’s mentioned before. I’d given him this nice jacket out of the lost and found and he wasn’t wearing it when it was raining, so I asked him where it was. He said he’d left it at his camp.”

“Where’s his camp?”

“I think he was staying in the tunnels near the movie theaters on Sahara.”

He handed him a card. “If he comes back here, you call me.”

“I will.”

Exiting the building, Lazarus got into his car and shot a text to Riley before steering toward the Strip.

He veered off into a secluded freeway alcove, near an overpass bustling with traffic. Beside him, a stairwell descended beneath the overpass, directing pedestrians safely underground, away from the speeding cars. Adjacent to the stairwell, a maintenance tunnel burrowed deep into the city’s sewer system.

The day’s heat was oppressive, and Lazarus cranked up his air-conditioning, waiting. Soon, Riley’s truck rolled up. After stepping out, Riley fastened a Kevlar vest around himself, a hat emblazoned with “SWAT” perched on his head.

“You ready, big daddy?” Lazarus said as he got out.

“Did you know it’s my wife’s birthday today? It was supposed to be my day off.”

Lazarus opened the trunk and strapped on his vest and grabbed two flashlights.

“Then keep your guard up, ’cause she’s gonna be wicked pissed at me if you die today.”

Together, the two of them descended into the dark tunnels beneath the city.

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