Ian said. “And I would suggest we get a move on.”
Chapter Eleven
The small home on Freeport’s north side was showing gentle signs of neglect. The porch was scattered with faded sales flyers, plastic-wrapped telephone books and dried autumn leaves. The front steps still held remnants from the snowfall several days ago and there was a crack in one of the front windows from a thrown rock, the culprit still sitting on the sill.
“I’m so glad Katie had an extra key,” Mary said as they stood in front of the empty house.
“I still think it’s strange she would just leave,” Ian said. “This is where she’s made her roots.”
“When you feel helpless, the first thing you consider is running away,” Bradley said. “If she really had no one left, being lost in a crowd is a lot easier.”
Mary, Bradley and Ian made their way up the stairs and to the front door. Bradley took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door opened easily and they walked through the small hallway into the living room.
Sunlight illuminated the dust motes that lingered in the middle of the room. There was an overstuffed sofa in a floral design against one wall and a matching love seat next to it. A small bookcase of children’s books sat next to the loveseat, several books were still open with favorite pages exposed.
Mary walked over and picked one up. “This was one of my favorite books,” she said. “It’s all about a little bird who’s trying to find her mother.”
“Fairly ironic,” Ian said, looking over her shoulder.
“No, not at all,” Bradley said from across the room.
He was standing in front of a tall dark bookshelf that was divided into cubbyholes. In the center cubby was a small framed photo of a man, woman and a little girl, all smiling widely into the camera. “She looks like she wasn’t searching for anything,” he said, lifting the frame from the shelf and studying it more closely. “She looks like she was happy and secure.”
Mary and Ian walked over and looked at the photo.
“Aye, she’s happy. You can see it in her eyes,” Ian said. “But there’s no denying who her parents really are.”
“She looks like Jeannine, but she has your eyes,” Mary said softly.
He took a deep shuddering breath. “She’s my daughter,” he said, his voice cracking. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Clarissa is my little girl.”
Ian looked over Bradley’s shoulder. “She’s yours alright,” he said. “And it’s a blessing she didn’t get your nose.”
Surprised laughter slipped through his lips and eased the tension that had been building inside his body. He took a deep breath and put the photo back on the shelf. “Well, let’s get to work finding her,” he said.
Mary reached up, took the photo off the shelf and handed it to Bradley. “I think it would be fine for you to keep this,” she said, putting her hand up when he began to protest, “if for nothing else, it will be helpful to show people when we are searching for her.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded and slid the photo into his coat pocket. “Thank you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “thank you both for your help.”
“What’s to thank?” Ian asked with a casual shrug. “All for one and all that.”
Mary smiled softly. “Yeah, what he said,” she added, reaching up and kissing Bradley. “Now let’s find Clarissa.”
They walked through the first floor searching through desks drawers and cabinets for any more information that would help them find out where they’d gone. “Uh,oh,” Ian said, holding a small piece of paper in his hand. “The mother, Becca, is on theophylline.”
“What does that mean?” Mary asked.
“It means she has some kind of respiratory disease,” he replied. “And by the small dosage, she’s using it to maintain open airways, I would guess her lungs are deteriorating.”
“So, she’s trying to take care of a child in Chicago while
Chapter Eleven
The small home on Freeport’s north side was showing gentle signs of neglect. The porch was scattered with faded sales flyers, plastic-wrapped telephone books and dried autumn leaves. The front steps still held remnants from the snowfall several days ago and there was a crack in one of the front windows from a thrown rock, the culprit still sitting on the sill.
“I’m so glad Katie had an extra key,” Mary said as they stood in front of the empty house.
“I still think it’s strange she would just leave,” Ian said. “This is where she’s made her roots.”
“When you feel helpless, the first thing you consider is running away,” Bradley said. “If she really had no one left, being lost in a crowd is a lot easier.”
Mary, Bradley and Ian made their way up the stairs and to the front door. Bradley took the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door opened easily and they walked through the small hallway into the living room.
Sunlight illuminated the dust motes that lingered in the middle of the room. There was an overstuffed sofa in a floral design against one wall and a matching love seat next to it. A small bookcase of children’s books sat next to the loveseat, several books were still open with favorite pages exposed.
Mary walked over and picked one up. “This was one of my favorite books,” she said. “It’s all about a little bird who’s trying to find her mother.”
“Fairly ironic,” Ian said, looking over her shoulder.
“No, not at all,” Bradley said from across the room.
He was standing in front of a tall dark bookshelf that was divided into cubbyholes. In the center cubby was a small framed photo of a man, woman and a little girl, all smiling widely into the camera. “She looks like she wasn’t searching for anything,” he said, lifting the frame from the shelf and studying it more closely. “She looks like she was happy and secure.”
Mary and Ian walked over and looked at the photo.
“Aye, she’s happy. You can see it in her eyes,” Ian said. “But there’s no denying who her parents really are.”
“She looks like Jeannine, but she has your eyes,” Mary said softly.
He took a deep shuddering breath. “She’s my daughter,” he said, his voice cracking. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Clarissa is my little girl.”
Ian looked over Bradley’s shoulder. “She’s yours alright,” he said. “And it’s a blessing she didn’t get your nose.”
Surprised laughter slipped through his lips and eased the tension that had been building inside his body. He took a deep breath and put the photo back on the shelf. “Well, let’s get to work finding her,” he said.
Mary reached up, took the photo off the shelf and handed it to Bradley. “I think it would be fine for you to keep this,” she said, putting her hand up when he began to protest, “if for nothing else, it will be helpful to show people when we are searching for her.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded and slid the photo into his coat pocket. “Thank you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, “thank you both for your help.”
“What’s to thank?” Ian asked with a casual shrug. “All for one and all that.”
Mary smiled softly. “Yeah, what he said,” she added, reaching up and kissing Bradley. “Now let’s find Clarissa.”
They walked through the first floor searching through desks drawers and cabinets for any more information that would help them find out where they’d gone. “Uh,oh,” Ian said, holding a small piece of paper in his hand. “The mother, Becca, is on theophylline.”
“What does that mean?” Mary asked.
“It means she has some kind of respiratory disease,” he replied. “And by the small dosage, she’s using it to maintain open airways, I would guess her lungs are deteriorating.”
“So, she’s trying to take care of a child in Chicago while
Similar Books
