Missing Boy by Rick Polad

Author:Rick Polad [Polad, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 193954811X
Publisher: Calumet Editions
Published: 2015-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

An accident kept me from getting to my office without backtracking down side streets, so I parked a block away and walked. The exercise wouldn’t hurt. I entered by the front door for a change and admired my name on the window. Samantha hung up the phone as I walked in.

“If that was new business, I’ve got enough at the moment,” I said with a grin.

“Good morning, Spencer. I got all the addresses. The list is on your desk.”

“Yes, thanks. I picked it up a couple hours ago.”

I was almost to my office when she said, “Spencer.”

I knew by the tone what was next. I didn’t know how to handle it.

“It doesn’t look good for my father, does it?” She was staring down at her desk.

I walked back to her and touched her shoulder.

“At least there is no bad news. Someone could be trying to find out who he is and having as little luck as we are.” I knew how stupid that sounded, but it was all I had. If someone found a confused stranger their first call would be to the police.

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I felt helpless and had trouble keeping my own tears back when I thought of my folks. I needed to get to work.

Harold’s was the closest address on the list. If he wasn’t home I’d ring some doorbells.

***

At eleven o’clock, Harold and Barbara Reid still weren’t at work. I thought I saw Mooney but was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me.

Harold lived in the middle of a block on Paulina, north of Fullerton… a short, one-change bus ride from the park. The building was an old wooden rooming house that had been turned into an apartment building and ignored for quite a while. The gate in the chain link fence was missing, and rotted siding told a story of neglect.

The front door screeched open and I stepped into a dingy foyer with remnants of old wallpaper on plaster walls. Mailboxes were on the left wall, but none were locked. They all had a number but most didn’t have names, and all of the buzzer buttons were missing. 2D did have a name—Harold Dejan. When I saw the missing buzzers I wondered how I would get in, but the entry door wasn’t locked—it wasn’t even closed all the way.

Standing inside the door, the only sound I heard was faint music coming from the first floor hall. Sounded like Glenn Miller. I walked down the hall and back, noticing a Manager sign on one of the doors. I took a deep breath, patted the gun under my left arm, and started up the wooden stairs. 2D was in the middle of the hall on the right. I listened at the door, heard nothing, and then knocked. No answer. Another three knocks had the same result. A few seconds later I heard a door open and close on the first floor. I couldn’t tell if it was an apartment or the entry door, but no one came up the stairs.

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