“Mr. Harper, this is Melissa Grant.”
He sat up so quickly that his knee struck the bed frame.
“Is Rosie all right?”
“Rosie is safe.”
“Can we speak to her?”
“Not at this time.”
Walter's shoulders sagged.
“Why not?”
“The department is reviewing your request for contact.”
“But we haven't done anything wrong.”
“Mr. Harper, I need you to remain calm.”
“I am calm.”
His voice had risen despite himself.
“We've been asking for six weeks. We don't know where she is. We don't know if she's sick. We don't know if she thinks we've forgotten her.”
Melissa closed her eyes briefly.
“I understand this is difficult.”
“No, ma'am. I don't think you do.”
Walter's voice broke.
“You see, every morning I wake up and remember that my daughter is dead. Then I remember that my granddaughter is somewhere in this city, and I don't know whether she went to sleep crying for us. I don't know whether she thinks we chose to leave her.”
He swallowed hard.
“We're not asking you to give her back to us tomorrow. We're asking you to let her know we still love her.”
Melissa had no immediate answer.
Finally, she said, “I'll contact you when I have more information.”
The call ended.
Walter sat with the receiver in his hand long after the line went dead.
Evelyn came from the bathroom.
“What did she say?”
He slowly replaced the receiver.
“She said she'll contact us.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
For a moment, they stood together in the small motel room, surrounded by the things they had carried out of their former lives.
Then Evelyn took Walter's hand.
“Come on,” she said. “Let's go downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because sitting here won't bring Rosie any closer.”
Walter looked at her.
She smiled faintly.
“And because we have a lawyer now. We have someone looking into things. That's more than we had yesterday.”
He nodded.
Outside, a motorcycle engine started.
Vincent Maddox was waiting in the parking lot.
And he had just received a call from Hector that would make the coming days far more complicated than anyone expected.
Hector had spent the afternoon making telephone calls.
He contacted a mechanic about the Harper Buick, a local housing organization about emergency accommodation, and an old friend who worked in the county clerk's office.
He did not ask anyone to bend the rules.
He asked questions.
By four o'clock, he had learned that the Harpers' former landlord had not evicted them out of spite. The building had been sold, and the new owner had chosen to renovate it. Walter and Evelyn had been given notice, but their financial circumstances had made finding another apartment difficult.
He also learned that the county had a program providing temporary housing assistance to grandparents seeking custody of children in foster care.
The Harpers had never been told about it.
Whether that omission had been deliberate or simply another administrative failure remained unclear.
Hector presented the information to Vincent at the clubhouse.
“There's a place on the north side that helps older adults find affordable rentals,” he said. “They've got an opening for an application tomorrow.”
“Take them there.”
“I already arranged it.”
Vincent looked up.
Hector shrugged.
“You said we were going to find out what happened. I figured that meant doing something while we waited.”
Vincent studied him.
“You've been paying attention.”
“Somebody has to.”
They found Walter and Evelyn sitting in the motel lobby, studying a brochure about affordable housing.
When Hector explained the appointment, Evelyn immediately shook her head.
“We can't keep accepting help from everyone.”
“Why not?” Hector asked.
“Because people have their own problems.”
Hector looked at her for several seconds.
“Mrs. Harper, I've spent twenty years riding with men who think the world owes them something. They take help when it suits them and disappear when somebody else needs it. I promise you, you're not the people I'm worried about.”
Evelyn's eyes softened.
Walter folded the brochure.
“We appreciate what you're doing.”
“Then let us do it.”
The housing appointment took two hours.
A counselor named Sandra reviewed their income, medical expenses, and rental history. She explained that they qualified for a subsidized apartment if they could provide the necessary documents.
It would not happen immediately, but it was possible.
For the first time, Walter saw a path forward that did not depend entirely on someone else's decision.
When the appointment ended, Vincent took them to a pharmacy to collect Evelyn's medication. Then they went to a supermarket, where Walter insisted on paying for groceries with the small amount of cash he had kept hidden in his wallet.
Vincent let him.
Pride mattered, too.
That evening, the Harpers ate dinner in a booth at Harlow's. This time, Walter ordered a full meal without looking at the prices first.
Evelyn noticed.
She also noticed that Vincent had ordered the same steak he had left untouched the previous night.
“Do you always eat so little?” she asked.
“Only when people keep asking me questions.”
She smiled.
“Then I suppose we should be quiet.”
“You could try.”
Her laugh surprised him.
It was soft and genuine, and for a moment, the diner seemed less cold.
After dinner, Walter asked Vincent whether he had children.
“No.”
“Ever been married?”
“No.”
Walter nodded as though he had expected both answers.
“That's a lonely way to live.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Depends on the life.”
“Perhaps.”
Walter did not argue.
He simply looked at him with the calm curiosity of someone who had survived enough to know that people rarely become guarded without a reason.
“Did you have a family growing up?” Evelyn asked.