around.
“She’s at home. I gotta go. I can’t leave her alone for long.”
As the girl tried to break free, Angela found herself hanging on. There was fear in the girl’s eyes and she obviously needed some help. But why did she care about a kid who’d just tried to steal her purse?
“Let me go,” the girl pleaded. “My little sister gets scared when she’s alone.”
“Why is she alone? Where are your parents?” she asked, unable to let the matter drop.
“They’re – out.”
“What’s your name?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. You need help.”
“No one wants to help us. They just want to split us up. My sister needs me. I have to protect her.”
She was getting in over her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Where’s your sister?”
The girl hesitated. “I can’t tell you. You’ll call the cops.”
“I won’t call the police – not yet, anyway,” she amended. “But if your sister is sick and she needs medicine, maybe I can help.”
“If you want to help, give me some money.”
“First I need to meet your sister.” She paused. “I have sisters, too, one younger, one older. I’d do anything for them.”
“You seem nice,” the girl muttered, as if she was afraid to believe it.
“Then let me help you,” she said impulsively, trying not to think too hard about her offer. She could be getting herself into a dangerous situation. The girl could be working for someone. There might not even be a sister.
“I don’t know why you’d want to,” the girl said, but despite the fear in her eyes, there was also an edge of hope to her words.
“What’s your name?” she asked again.
“Laurel.”
The name seemed too pretty and soft for her boyishly dressed, desperate attacker, but she could certainly understand why Laurel might feel safer out on the streets if she looked more like a boy.
“Okay, Laurel. Take me to your sister.”
“I hope I’m not making a mistake,” Laurel said worriedly.
Angela met her gaze. “Me, too.”
* * *
Carole grew tense as the limo took her toward the streets of her youth. Potrero Hill was in the southern section of the city. On one side of the hill, the houses and apartment buildings were well kept, rented or owned by families and professionals, but on the south side of the hill were two large low-income housing projects.
Second thoughts ran through her mind about this impulsive trip, her instinct for self-preservation telling her to turn back while she still had the chance. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell the driver to stop. Something was missing from her life, and maybe if she retraced her steps, if she went back to where it had all begun, it would become clear exactly what that something was.
Or maybe she’d just realize that nothing was missing – that she had it all, every last item on the wish list she’d made as a child. Then she could go home and go on with her life.
Thankfully, her mother had moved out of the projects and into a small apartment building about four blocks away. While the three-story building showed signs of wear and tear, the yard was well kept, and there were even a few flowers in the first-story window boxes that hid the metal bars protecting the windows.
The driver opened her door and she stepped out on the sidewalk, shivering in the cold. She probably should have stopped to get her coat before leaving the hotel.
“Is this the right place?” the driver asked doubtfully.
“It is.” She’d never visited, but this was the address she’d sent the compulsory Christmas card to every year for the last ten years. “Wait here. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
The front door to the building was ajar. If there was a security system, it was broken. She glanced down the list of residents and saw her mother’s name, Nora Dennis, next to 2B. She walked into the lobby and skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs. She might not have lived in this type of neighborhood
“She’s at home. I gotta go. I can’t leave her alone for long.”
As the girl tried to break free, Angela found herself hanging on. There was fear in the girl’s eyes and she obviously needed some help. But why did she care about a kid who’d just tried to steal her purse?
“Let me go,” the girl pleaded. “My little sister gets scared when she’s alone.”
“Why is she alone? Where are your parents?” she asked, unable to let the matter drop.
“They’re – out.”
“What’s your name?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. You need help.”
“No one wants to help us. They just want to split us up. My sister needs me. I have to protect her.”
She was getting in over her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Where’s your sister?”
The girl hesitated. “I can’t tell you. You’ll call the cops.”
“I won’t call the police – not yet, anyway,” she amended. “But if your sister is sick and she needs medicine, maybe I can help.”
“If you want to help, give me some money.”
“First I need to meet your sister.” She paused. “I have sisters, too, one younger, one older. I’d do anything for them.”
“You seem nice,” the girl muttered, as if she was afraid to believe it.
“Then let me help you,” she said impulsively, trying not to think too hard about her offer. She could be getting herself into a dangerous situation. The girl could be working for someone. There might not even be a sister.
“I don’t know why you’d want to,” the girl said, but despite the fear in her eyes, there was also an edge of hope to her words.
“What’s your name?” she asked again.
“Laurel.”
The name seemed too pretty and soft for her boyishly dressed, desperate attacker, but she could certainly understand why Laurel might feel safer out on the streets if she looked more like a boy.
“Okay, Laurel. Take me to your sister.”
“I hope I’m not making a mistake,” Laurel said worriedly.
Angela met her gaze. “Me, too.”
* * *
Carole grew tense as the limo took her toward the streets of her youth. Potrero Hill was in the southern section of the city. On one side of the hill, the houses and apartment buildings were well kept, rented or owned by families and professionals, but on the south side of the hill were two large low-income housing projects.
Second thoughts ran through her mind about this impulsive trip, her instinct for self-preservation telling her to turn back while she still had the chance. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell the driver to stop. Something was missing from her life, and maybe if she retraced her steps, if she went back to where it had all begun, it would become clear exactly what that something was.
Or maybe she’d just realize that nothing was missing – that she had it all, every last item on the wish list she’d made as a child. Then she could go home and go on with her life.
Thankfully, her mother had moved out of the projects and into a small apartment building about four blocks away. While the three-story building showed signs of wear and tear, the yard was well kept, and there were even a few flowers in the first-story window boxes that hid the metal bars protecting the windows.
The driver opened her door and she stepped out on the sidewalk, shivering in the cold. She probably should have stopped to get her coat before leaving the hotel.
“Is this the right place?” the driver asked doubtfully.
“It is.” She’d never visited, but this was the address she’d sent the compulsory Christmas card to every year for the last ten years. “Wait here. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
The front door to the building was ajar. If there was a security system, it was broken. She glanced down the list of residents and saw her mother’s name, Nora Dennis, next to 2B. She walked into the lobby and skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs. She might not have lived in this type of neighborhood
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