Chapter 8 - The Children at the Fence
Haven House stood behind a chain-link fence near an old factory district. The foundation's glossy report showed bright bedrooms and smiling residents. The actual building smelled of wet plaster. A red notice on the front door declared the property unsafe to occupy.
Twelve people huddled under a bus shelter across the street. Three were children. A little boy in a dinosaur sweatshirt held his sister's backpack to keep it out of the puddles.
Clara had gotten there before me with Nina, blankets, and food from a nearby diner. She was keeping a careful distance from me, but she wouldn't let that stop us from helping the families. I called the county emergency-housing coordinator, who arranged temporary rooms through a separate provider. Priya documented the situation without filming the residents' faces.
A woman named Tessa Morgan stepped forward. "Your sister promised a new furnace in January. My son sleeps in a coat. Last week, the ceiling over the laundry room fell."
"Was anyone hurt?" I asked.
"My neighbor's daughter. She's okay now, but she got stitches. We complained, and the manager told us we could leave if we didn't like it. Where were we supposed to go?"
She handed me a photocopy of a work completion certificate. It declared the furnace operational and the roof sound. The certificate carried Vanessa's signature and the stamp of Ridgepoint Services.
It was the same betrayal as at home: powerful people punishing the vulnerable for asking questions.
Priya pointed to the date. "Ridgepoint billed us two weeks before the work was even authorized."
"Can we prove who got paid?"
"If the bank cooperates."
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Tessa took out her phone. "A man came yesterday and threatened to throw away our records. I took a picture of his truck."
On her screen was Nolan, standing next to Vanessa's car.
