Chapter 4
Missing Child
Samuel Foster
Ifeel like my heart has been torn from my chest and crushed in Arielle’s fist. All the flights of fancy I’ve had over these past couple of weeks have been dashed to the floor and trampled. I know it’s my own fault...dreaming of a life with a woman I barely know.What was I thinking?She looks after my cat, for fuck’s sake!
I don’t watch the cab as she leaves; I can’t look at her going. Instead, I head back into the restaurant and look for Michael.
“Yo, buddy,” I say as I spot the guy clearing a table. He looks up eagerly – I’m not surprised, I gave him a pretty fat tip.
“Yes, sir?” he asks, folding a napkin deftly without looking down.
“We sent a fair amount of food back to the kitchen earlier. I don’t suppose you could wrap it for me to take home?” I ask. I don’t care what he thinks about my request. I hate that much waste.
“Yes, of course, sir,” he asks without question.
“Actually, can I add a few extra items from the menu?” I say on second thoughts.
“Well, we’re not a takeaway venue, sir...” he begins, looking doubtful.
“I’ll pay extra,” I say, grabbing a menu and pointing out a couple of hearty-looking dishes. He nods and disappears, leaving me to my thoughts.
By the time he returns, I’ve had a bit of time to put my thoughts in order. It’s not Arielle’s fault. I told her hoping she’d accept me, but with my disclosure was the possibility that she would turn me down. And I can’t say I blame her, nor should I be surprised. I’ve learned enough about the woman to know she has a strong moral compass. Being the widow of a cop should be enough, but there’s more to it. Arielle is a good woman in the simplest sense. She’s loving and caring, and she does the right thing. Stealing – even from assholes – just doesn’t fit into her worldview.
I sigh as I take the neatly wrapped parcel Michael has handed me. I pay the bill and leave the restaurant. A block down from us, I know there’s an entrance to the park that runs the length of this neighborhood towards my home. I’ve walked in this area before, so I have a fairly good idea of the lay of the land.
One advantage of having the date go badly is that the park isn’t closed yet. I stroll in and find a bench and set the food out on it, then walk a few feet away. Some jerk decided that it’s illegal to feed the homeless here a while back, but that doesn’t stop me from popping around occasionally. The skinny kid from earlier sticks in my mind. Within minutes there’s a small gathering around the bench and I hide a smile. A pair of young boys are sharing a bread roll and it occurs to me that there’s more generosity here than I’ve seen in the whole of Buford’s circle of vultures. I’mnotsorry I took his diamond. One of the boys nods at me and gives a grin.
“Hey, magic man,” he calls out. I’ve never told any of these folks who I am, but it seems to be no secret. Guess it has something to do with Cory’s latest brilliant marketing idea to plaster my ad on half the buses in the area. My image swoops past here on the side of a bus ten times a day. The kid and his buddy amble over and shoot me a high-five. I’m guessing he’s probably in his teens, but it’s hard to tell. His body is so shrunken with malnutrition and drug-use that he could be fourteen. But those eyes...they could belong to a man in his eighties. “Can you show us some tricks?” he asks around a mouthful of bread. I smile and shrug. Why not? I started my career in places like this.
In a minute, I’ve flipped a coin out of thin air and have it hovering over the pair of them, which has them laughing before the kid catches it and pockets the change. I’m about to reach for a deck of cards when my phone rings and I frown, my expression deepening when I see Arielle’s caller ID.
“Hey,” I say, not sure what to expect.
“It’s Austin...he’s missing,” she launches the words out in a rush. I feel a sickening sensation in the pit of my belly.
“What? How did that happen?” I ask.The kid isn’t the type to go wandering off on his own, is he?If he is, I don’t even want to think about what might happen to him out on the streets.
“I was letting Sally out...all I did was walk her outside and wait for her lift to arrive. I left the door open behind me – I swear, it was just for a minute or two, but he must have slipped out behind me. I’m such anidiot!” I can hear her sucking in shuddering breaths.
“Arielle, it’s not your fault. Just let’s think this through—”
“Sam... Sam, please...I just need your help!” Her words are desperate; I can feel her anxiety rippling in waves across the line. Who can blame her? I’m worried myself...she must be one step away from a meltdown. I can see the two kids watching me, taking in every word.
“Alright...one step at a time. Where are you now?” I ask.
“I’ve just come back home...I ran up and down the street but there was no sign of him,” I hear her pause. “I think...I know this sounds crazy...but I think he somehow got on a bus?”
“Oh fuck,” I exhale. “They wouldn’t let that happen surely?”
“I don’t know!” she’s wailing, and I don’t want to make her more emotional. And for a moment I’m reminded of Cory’s fucking ad campaign. The kid seems to like me...and if he saw my face on a bus...
Shit!I don’t want to think about it. There’s no telling where he might land up. I wrack my brains for a minute then look around me.
“Okay, I’m going to put out some feelers around here, and make some calls. Keep your phone on you and let me know if he turns up. But I’m going to take care of this, okay?” I try to reassure her. I can hear her sobbing on the other side of the line. Somehow, I’m beginning to feel like this is all my fault.
“Alright,” her voice is shaky, and it tears at my heart. I end the call and look over at the boys, who are staring at me curiously.
