Chapter Nine B: A Badge Without a Name
Adrian brought a stack of paper badges into the diner.
Each badge carried a colored stripe and the printed name of a temporary shelter.
“These were handed out at Bellwether,” he said.
“The families were told to wear them so transport workers could identify their destinations.”
Kent picked up one badge and examined its reverse side.
“There’s no issuing organization,” she said.
“There isn’t even a telephone number.”
Samuel pointed at the orange stripe.
“Inez had that color,” he said.
“Her sister was assigned blue.”
Emily remembered the green raincoat and the blue shopping bag.
“Why would they give sisters different destinations?” she asked.
“They said the shelters were separated by medical need,” Adrian replied.
“Inez refused to leave until someone explained it.
”
Grant emerged from the kitchen and paused when he saw the badges.
He moved closer, then stopped himself.
“I’ve seen those,” he said.
Kent turned toward him.
“Where?”
Grant pointed to the service entrance.
“The driver who rented the lane dropped a handful beside the trash bins,” he answered.
“I swept them into the garbage before the breakfast rush.”
Emily looked at the full wastebasket beside the coffee station.
Grant had emptied the kitchen bins that morning.
“Which dumpster did you use?” she asked.
“The blue one,” he said.
“The collection truck comes on Thursdays.”
Kent checked her watch.
It was Wednesday.
She sent a uniformed officer to secure the dumpster before anyone could disturb it.
Grant rubbed his burned hand against his apron.
“I didn’t know they were important,
” he said.
“You knew enough to take payment for the lane,” Kent replied.
Grant looked away.
Samuel stepped toward the window, where rain had begun to run down the glass again.
“We keep finding things after the people are gone,” he said.
Emily heard the defeat in his voice.
“Then we have to stop chasing things and start asking the people who are still here,” she replied.
She walked to Nadia and asked whether Inez had spoken to anyone before leaving.
Nadia thought for a moment.
“She asked Lucia to remember a number,” she said.
“She said children were better at remembering numbers than adults.”
Emily felt her pulse quicken.
“What number?”
“Lucia wouldn’t tell me,” Nadia answered.
“She said Inez asked her not to say it where strangers could hear.”
Kent reached for her radio.
“I want an officer with Lucia when she arrives at the staging area,” she said.
“Nobody questions that child without a parent or guardian present.”
Emily nodded.
She was grateful that the deputy had said it aloud.
A frightened child should not become another tool for adults who believed their urgency excused everything.
