She also felt something unfamiliar, a bittersweet sensation that swept over her. Chase was gone, she’d never hug him or watch him play or see his eyes light up when they went to baseball games. But she could remember. For the first time, her memories weren’t solely clouded by pain.

She averted her eyes, redirected her attention fully to the matter at hand. If anyone noticed her emotions, they didn’t say anything.

Lucas said, “Did you listen to the podcast this week?”

“Yes,” Willa said. “You want to talk to me about the gentleman who called in.”

“Yes. Do you know who he was?”

“I believe I do. I haven’t seen him here in a while, but I know he has a steady job. Travels for work.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t feel comfortable saying, considering he didn’t share his name with you.”

Regan said, “But you do remember him coming to you about Abernathy sleeping near the tracks.”

She nodded. “He—I’ll call him Doe, for clarity—had lost so much in such a short time. He needed us, to help him get back on his feet. He could have gone the way of Joseph, all too easily. Loss, pain, suffering—it can destroy a soul. Some people never find their way out of the abyss.”

“Like Joseph Abernathy,” Regan said.

“Yes. I don’t know his story. He never shared it.” She reached up and played with a crucifix hanging from a simple gold chain around her neck. “But I saw it on occasion, because I have worked with men like Joseph for more than thirty years. My father had been in Vietnam. He came home a different man, turned to alcohol, left. I don’t say he left us, though he did and my mother resented him and her plight, but he didn’t really leave us. He left because he felt he had no hope, no future, and drinking numbed the pain. He died. I didn’t know until years later. I say he died of hopelessness. But he drank himself to death. Joseph was doing the same thing, but I felt that, with patience and firm boundaries, he might see a path out. We don’t allow alcohol or drugs here but take in those suffering from addiction. They come here, try to get clean, we give them help—counseling, medical attention, food, fellowship—but men like Joseph can only take it for a short time before they leave to drink. It was a cycle. But I would—we would—never turn him away for a meal. So I saw him regularly back then.”

“But he often left, correct?” Lucas asked. “He didn’t live here year-round.”

“No, he would jump on a freight train and disappear for months at a time, usually in the winter months,” Willa said. “But three years...that’s too long. I agree with Doe. Something must have happened to him.”