CHAPTER ONE
It would be easy to float away in the darkness and let the current pull her under, too. She'd thought about it several times before—in her "dark times," as her ex-husband used to call them.
Lisa's life hadn't turned out the way she'd hoped. Abusive parents, a failed marriage, the booze—so much booze—all swirled together to set her on this path. Losing her apartment finally put her out here. Now this. She thought she'd escaped, but running from her past hadn't worked. The ghosts of years past had stripped everything away. Lisa had nothing left, not even hope.
The tug of the Sacramento River on her legs was tempting, and the spring snow runoff numbed Lisa's thighs as she waded out. Lisa closed her eyes and pictured herself lying back and allowing the river to put an end to it.
"Momma?"
Lisa's eyes shot open.
Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the faint outline of her daughter standing on the riverbank. The eight-year-old wore a thin blue T-shirt with a unicorn on the front, a threadbare pair of jeans, holding a stuffed bunny with one ear missing. The girl's face registered confusion.
"Baby, go on back to the tent," Lisa said.
Lisa felt her daughter would be better off without her. The mother's sins cast a damning shadow. But she couldn't abandon Willow. Not like this. Lisa knew what it was like to be an orphan in an unfriendly world. The future of an eight-year-old alone in a homeless camp wasn't the life Willow deserved.
"Momma, what are you doing?"
Lisa's eyes welled. She didn't need to tell her daughter the world was a hurtful place. She'd keep the secrets and not let her know there was nothing worth living for—for now.
"I'm coming, baby."
Lisa turned and waded back toward the bank. Her daughter spent the last two years in one homeless camp or another. The tightly packed shelters made Lisa's claustrophobia itch. Lisa reached for her daughter and grabbed her, lifting the girl into a tight hug. Tears streamed down Lisa's cheeks. Not because Lisa wanted to end her suffering. She'd considered that option before. The tears came from nearly making Willow an orphan and leaving the innocent girl behind in a homeless camp. Willow couldn't fight off the predators who lurked in the darkness—like they did tonight.
From the river's edge, the camp spread a quarter mile in either direction. There was never any official count because people came and went, died, were arrested, or simply disappeared from the camp. Lisa guessed there were over two hundred people living here in the city's forgotten shadows.
It was time to move. When the camps get too big, bad things happen, and people talk.
Lights flickered from small campfires and lanterns throughout the settlement. Lisa thought they looked like fallen stars. She hugged Willow a little closer and followed the trail back into the camp.
She unzipped the fly on their tent and scooted inside. Their belongings—a change of clothes, a towel to share, and two children's books—lay on one end of the nylon dome tent. A pair of sleeping bags took up most of the space. Lisa knew they were lucky to have them—others didn't.
"All right, sweetie, let's get you settled in for the night."
Willow wiggled into her sleeping bag with her stuffed rabbit. Lisa grabbed a book, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, one of her daughter's favorites. The eight-year-old could recite most of the story by heart.
Lisa opened the book when a loud commotion erupted outside. It wasn't uncommon in the camp. Fights over property, drugs, or imagined slights fed by drugs, alcohol, and glitchy mental health were a daily occurrence. Lisa learned the best thing to do was stay out of it and never get involved.
It sounded like the usual dustup until the screams began.
"Stay here, Willow."
Lisa crawled to the tent flap, zipped it open, and poked her head out.
Fire.
