“What do you mean?” Rosie tightened the knot around one of her action figures as it began to slip loose from her hair.
“Does he know who his father is? Does Finn want to meet him? Has he ever mentioned seeing his father around?”
“Ms Wair doesn’t like to talk about Finn’s dad,” Henry said. “She gets all sad whenever Finn brings it up. They’ve never met. I don’t think Finn really wants to meet him.”
“At least that’s what he told us,” Rosie added.
Fletcher finished constructing the tower and pulled the first block out, placing it on top. “When did that come up?”
“Last week.” Rosie went next, selecting a loose middle block. “It was Parent-Teacher Conference Night. John made fun of him for only having a mom.”
“And what did Finn say?” I asked. Henry took his turn, then Sean, and then Fletcher and the three kids stared at me expectantly. I looked back at Fletcher and raised an eyebrow. “What?” She nodded at the wooden tower. “Fine.” I found a loose block on the left and added it to the top.
“Finn said he didn’t care,” Rosie continued as soon as I was finished.
Fletcher was one of those Jenga players who liked to destabilize the tower as quickly as possible because she insisted on pulling blocks so that there were only middle ones left on the bottom. “We spoke with his music teacher, and she said a man tried to speak with him last month. She thought he might be Finn’s father. Did Finn tell you about that?”
The kids glanced at each other again. “Not that I remember,” Sean said, and the others shook their head in agreement. “But I don’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday.” He pulled out his block, and we went another round in silence. I tried to counter Fletcher’s destabilization efforts by picking a middle block, but the tower was looking pretty rickety.
“What happened on Tuesday?” Fletcher said after she set her block on top.
“We went to school.”
“Headmaster Finnegan was in a bad mood.”
“I had crisps for lunch.”
“We watched a movie in history class.”
“Recess ended early because it was raining.”
“I thought I saw an ice cream truck, but it was just this dumb white van.”
“My mom picked us all up except for Finn because he had his class.”
With each successive statement, another block got pulled from the tower and placed on top, and the whole structure grew taller and increasingly unstable. My phone buzzed after Fletcher’s next turn, and I motioned for them to keep going as I stood and walked towards the stairs to answer.
“MacBain.”
“Callum, it’s Martin. We found something on the scarf.”
“What?”
Behind me, I heard the tower crash to the floor, Fletcher shouting along with the kids.
“Blood.”
Nine
My fingers went cold around the phone. It almost slipped from my grasp, but I tucked it between my shoulder and chin and turned so that my back was to the children, lowering my voice to a strained whisper. “What?”
“We found blood on the scarf,” Martin repeated. “We don’t have a match for it in our system, but…”
“But you think it’s Finn’s,” I finished.
“Yes.”
“Thanks, Martin. I have to go.” I took a moment and a breath and then spun back around. “Fletcher,” I said more sharply than I intended.
She caught onto my tone immediately and grew serious as she stood and hurried towards me. “What is it?”
I glanced over her shoulder to see the kids trying to eavesdrop on us, so I pulled her in close and whispered in her ear. “They found blood on the scarf.”
Her eyes widened. Surely, Finn’s father wouldn’t want to hurt him, not after going through all the trouble to send alimony. But maybe Finn got startled, scared, and got hurt in the struggle, a cut cheek or a bloody nose. I certainly hoped it was nothing worse than that.
“Kids, thanks,” I said, forcing what I hoped was a bit of cheer into my voice. “You’ve been a great help.”
“Really?” Sean asked, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“Of course.”
“And you’ll bring Finn home?”
I returned to their little circle and knelt before him, holding out my pinky. “I promise.”
Sean wrapped his tiny pinky around my own and smiled up at me, tears whelming in his eyes as he passed my badge back. I ruffled his hair, though the gesture felt awkward and out of place, and I stood abruptly and rejoined Fletcher at the stairs. We thanked Rachel on our way out and left a card with her, though my stack was quickly running low.
Outside, I banged my fist against the roof of my car in annoyance. We still had no real leads, and with every hour that passed, it would become harder and harder to find the missing kid. Not to mention how Finn’s fear and confusion would continue to mount, how his mother’s grief would rise while her hope quickly plummeted.
My phone rang again as I was unlocking the car, an unknown number flashing on the screen. I held up a finger to tell Fletcher to wait, and she hung half in and half out of the door, a curious expression on her face.
“MacBain,” I said.
“Hello? DCI MacBain? It’s Haruto Sato.” Haruto sounded nervous, his words quicksand jumbled together. “I’m sorry to bother you, but that van is back. It’s been sitting across the street from the Archive Centre for the past hour.”
As if conjured by his words, another white delivery van cruised down the street Fletcher and I stood on. There really were a lot of them in the city. I’d started seeing them everywhere after Haruto had mentioned them the other day.
“Has anyone gotten out?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Haruto answered. “But I’ve been trying to focus on my work and not stand at the window watching it. It’s probably nothing, right?”
I pulled my door open and eased into the driver’s seat. “Fletcher and I are on that side of town now. Why don’t we swing by and take a look?”
“You’d do that, really?”
“Keep an eye on it and
